Happy New Year! It's an almost balmy day here in the Lewis-Clark Valley – 49 at this writing.
I've spent a week trying to set down my feelings about the Christmas season. What comes to mind is something Hallie said years ago: "We don't like Christmas. We just like to get ready for Christmas." At first I was dismayed at her observation – that I had failed to convey to my family a love of the Chirstmas spirit. But I had to admit
I right regularly came unglued at Christmas, followed by a month of the blues. Then, as long-cherished traditions – and people -- disappeared, I began to think there's just nothing wrong with perpetually getting ready for Christmas if that's what I like to do. And as I began to see Christmas as a beginning rather than an end, a quieter, more reflective celebration took shape, allowing for continuance of the season in delightful ways.
The tree – now artificial through necessity – is down and stored in the barn for another year, the ornaments stashed under a bed. But my collection of holiday ceramics will remain in view until I'm moved to make a change. The two of us – or even the four of us – don't need much by way of Christmas goodies, so for the next month or two I will occasionally make some so-called Christmas goodies from new and old recipes. Why do we save them just for Christmas anyway? I have even selected some holiday music to enjoy during the winter months. Many of those favorites are really winter songs anyway. I'll continue to wear many of my less-obviously "Christmas" shirts until it's time to wear the dragonfly and the pansies. And I have come to look forward to January as that time of reflection and organization – some of it planning for next Christmas. And it's always the right time to study and ponder the birth of the Christ child and other worthy holiday literature.
Well, that sense o
f continuance really works for me. By giving myself permission to continue, I find myself gradually accepting the need to move on with the tasks at hand. As I focus less on Christmas as a day – or two days – or a special week – I find more peace and joy. After all, the Christmas spirit should never pass from experience but be cherished and nurtured in our hearts. I think of a so
ng on a Johnny Mathis album: "Let Christmas be a feeling in your heart."
The other day I remarked over at the "Last Resort" that I don't bake cookies at night, but inspired by my friend's example, I found my cookie shooter, cookie stamps, and cookie cutters, and last night – while Mike watched yet another football game -- I tried a recipe from the Better Homes and Gardens site for "brown sugar shortbread" cookies. Nellie knows that good things happen for those who watchfully wait. KW
4 comments:
Well done, girlfriend! January is a great time to take stock and relax, letting thoughts wander in remembrance, and allowing the blessings to wash over us in thanksgiving. And baking cookies, whatever the time, is always a good thing! Happy New Year, pal of many, many years!
Dad has his game face on for Risk.
Chris -- Since I grew up as basically an only child, probably no one shares with me the background of childhood experience that you do, and I cherish that we can be in regular contact through these blogs.
There's a down side to playing Risk amongst those who want to remain friendly. If we're going to play a game, I prefer one that involves all of us all of the time. Dominoes and Scrabble are our standards. But this year Butch Alford's annual Tribune article about new games mentioned the new version of Risk which includes shorter versions, so Mike bought it and we played a couple of times.
I think we bought our original Risk game at your instigation, Murray. I'm sure you are thinking of the games we played at Boiling Pot. (Boiling Pot was Mike's mother's cabin on the Ouachita River in Arkansas.) Remember how we carefully moved the board to the crib at bedtime to protect the game in progress and the next morning found it warped in that humid environment?
Did Nellie ever get a cookie? LOL! She's waiting so patiently!
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