Thursday, December 24, 2009

Is There Room at Your Inn?

I don't know about you, but try as I might, there is still a rush to get "ready " for Christmas.
The presents to buy - no matter how small or simple - the house to clean, the food to prepare.
The Journey of Advent. Preparation.
As I sit at the computer this morning, waiting for Nattie B, one of my precious Grand babies to arrive, I think about the Journey.
We Americanize our version of Mary traveling in the dessert on a donkey, but no matter what culture it is in, all women can identify with the feelings of a very pregnant woman traveling with her husband while she awaits the birth of her child. We can identify with the necessary preparations tangible and emotional. And to be traveling? Away from our mothers, our friends, our home.
And then, the journey finally drawing to a close and to be told there is no room at the inn! UGHHHH. How exhausting.
And still the time was drawing near. And the stars were shining and the stable was clean and the cattle were lowing. Have you ever heard cattle lowing? I have and it is as soothing as a mothers lullaby. God provides.
Advent is drawing to a close. The time is drawing near. The time for preparation is ending. Have you made room at the inn of your heart to welcome this baby?

Monday, December 21, 2009

The moment of UGHHHHHHHHHHH

It wasn't what I thought it would be; this day of advent days. I have had several tugs in unexpected directions the last few weeks and have left shopping to the end. My tree is up, beautifully decorated and the needles are falling at an alarming rate, but in the absence of an earthquake - it will last. My nativities are carefully placed all over the house, the red and green table linens are readied, the cranberry relish is sweetening itself in the fridge and the star is hung on the porch. My house and my heart are ready for Christmas but, I have no presents to give. So, today was the day.

I was actually looking forward to it. I am not a shopper, but I had all the right ingredients for this day of choosing gifts to go perfectly AND, the weather had held. We did not get the expected Nor'easter and the sun was shining brightly on this shortest day of the year. I had to get a few non holiday related details tended to first, but I expected to be in the shoppes by noon. HA HA HA to HO HO HO!

The phone rang and rang and loose ends were unraveling instead of being tied up, but still, my mood held. The day was young. I would be out of the house by noon. I just had to stop at the post office, the bank and the dry cleaner and stop at the hospital to help a friend in need, then I could shop. No Problem. It was four o'clock when I entered the first store. FOUR O'CLOCK, and still I was smiling. Everything I had done all day long, I had done joyfully, and now, I would shop with glee.

Eight hours later, bags and boxes unloaded from the car, garbage out for pick up, recycling sorted, dogs watered and walked, I finally headed to bed. And then, I remembered and the smile was gone. My warm and wonderful king size bed, was unmade. The sheets were in the dryer. UGHHHHHHHHHH.

Wednesday, December 16, 2009

Mary, Joseph and a donkey welcome a baby

I love the Christmas story. I actually love the Santa part too, but that is such a small part of the celebration. I love getting the house ready. I love the smell of the freshly cut pine tree in the living room. I love the brightly colored bows sitting in a big basket waiting expectantly to be chosen for packages that I never seem to get around to wrapping in time to worry about ribbons and bows. I love garland; the star garland and the cranberry beads. I like real cranberries and popcorn threaded to put on the "cemetery trees" (another story). Some years we wrap the tree in raw wool spun into long fluffy ropes. I like how the bird ornaments look on the wool. I even like the eco damaging tinsel though we rarely use it any more.
But most of all, I love nativities. Nativities serve to remind us of the Christmas story, and that is, after all, what and why we celebrate. I love to pick up my nativity pieces and handle them before I choose where to place them. I have the whole Avon pure white nativity complete with the Holy Family and the donkey who carried Mary. It includes the Angel of the Lord, the shepherds, wise men, camels, and sheep. And the cow. My daughter worked really hard to get me the cow, a Christmas gift from her heart.
This year, since my grand baby is only two, this beautiful but breakable nativity rests on the mantle piece out of reach but I have always made sure that the little ones had a nativity set of their own. Felt, wood, plastic, resin, we had lots of them over the years and have the remnants of many with one piece or another missing. I always felt it was important for the kids to play act with them. They would move Mary and play with Baby Jesus ( we never held the tradition that Jesus couldn't be in the manger until Christmas though we do have a neighbor boy whose family holds that tradition and we thing he may be responsible for a few missing babies).
I think I have 15 nativity sets though I haven't unwrapped all of them yet this year so I can't count. The pure white one is my favorite for many reasons, but I really love them all. I have a beautiful locally hand-carved wooden one with no adornment and it feels precious in my hands. When I feel the curved figures, I feel close to the expectant woman somehow. This one feels earthy and real. My father was a wood worker, a craftsman really, so this one makes me think of him.
And I have one that is rough, gray cement like material that has a coarse black wire stable. I put that one on black cloth with shredded off- white paper that looks like straw. The short crude figures touch my heart in a way the others don't.
And I have tiny ones. A little pewter one I leave on the piano all year long. It is all one piece and fits in the palm of my hand. My brother Carl gave it to me years ago and it keeps the Christmas story in my heart throughout the seasons but it also makes me think of Carl when it catches my eye. I like that.
I even have a Playmobile nativity. It is the most work to set up with it's pop up cardboard background and the zillion pieces to be put together. I am hoping Axel who is now eleven will put it up for me tomorrow.
There are more. Smooth, softly painted ceramic ones, cheap dime store and catalogue versions that are tucked on every surface in every room upstairs and down for the kids to play with whether baby Jesus is missing or not.
Tonight I put up my metal one. It is copper and silver. It has a very different feel than any of the others. It is shiny. I remember the first time I saw it and knew I wanted it in my collection.
I love to look at each Mary, each Joseph and each swaddled baby and think about the story over and over. I have a Hummel Nativity and in that one Mary is riding on the donkey and Joseph is leading her. The colors are magnificent but my favorite part of that one is the donkey. How grateful a pregnant Mary must have been for a donkey to ride on as they traveled to Bethlehem.

I am 59 years old and still, every year for Christmas, my mother gives me a book, a piece of jewelry and a doll. I am so very grateful that for so many years my "dolls" were Nativity sets.
I am so grateful that my home is so full of these beautiful reminders of the true cause of celebration. I am so blessed to hold the Christmas story in my heart.

Tuesday, December 8, 2009

Unpacking Christmas

There is something quite wondrous about unpacking Christmas boxes. I am not a decorator - I have very few knickknacky kinds of things in general - but I love all things Christmas. I collect Nativity sets, from the tiniest pewter manger scene to a full mantle piece set of pure white Avon collectibles including the cow ( the cattle were lowing, remember ).
I have cranberry garland made of wood and raw wool garland in both white and gray. I have every Advent calendar that my four kids ever owned and a whole host of other decorations. I even have old fashioned waxed stencils and glass wax to adorn the windows of my hundred year old house with Santa's reindeer flying high in the sky above snowmen lined up on pinky white hills and the star of Bethlehem hanging way up in the top corners of the very old glass above a tiny baby sleeping in a manger.
So, when I say unpacking, I really mean unpacking. We relay the plastic boxes down to the yellow bedroom which we use for a staging area choosing to haul only the ornaments and nativities - 15 in all - all the way down to the living room. There is a box for table linens, a box for candles and candle holders, several boxes of wrapping paper, a box of gift bags and ribbons and bows. There are small containers and big containers and tins full of little pieces of delicate things wrapped in tissue and bubble wrap that all of us have popped over the years and now is really only wrap since there are no bubbles left to protect the cherished items and yet, by some miracle of Christmas, none are broken.
My grandson, almost 11 year old Axel, said tonight that unpacking Christmas boxes is like finding old friends you forgot you had. I would have to say that captures it pretty well as we unwrap ornaments decorated with Snoopy and Garfield, ornaments hand painted by children now grown and with their own homes, ornaments from Gila Bend and the Grand Canyon and from St. Petersburg, Russia and a favorite red hook from right here in Hometown, USA. We have skaters and ball players, puppies and birds in little nests, Big Bird and mice. They are made of felt and plastic, blown glass and ceramic. They are big and small, heavy enough to weigh down even the sturdiest of branches and so light I worry they will get lost in the tangle of lights and I will not retrieve them when it is time to wrap Christmas back up. They are pewter and clay, hand carved wood and mass produced resin. They are ours and they tell the stories of our lives from Christmas to Christmas.
I love unwrapping Christmas. As we lay out each pair of Mary and Joseph, each shiny star, each tattered felt stocking that was made by one or another of the kids in 4-H or Kindergarten, or Sunday School, it prepares me for waiting.
Unwrapping these packed away treasures unwraps my heart from the bustle that is outside these walls and must be reckoned with but does not need to be indulged. It reminds me of how much I love my children and grandchildren and how very much they love me. It reminds me to wait with the heart of a child who does not wait idly, but waits breathlessly for the joy that comes after the waiting is done.