What I Want for Christmas

There are several intangible, cliched (yet truthful!) things I would love for Christmas. I would love it if my brothers, sister-in-law, and niece could all be with me and my parents this Christmas. I would love it if no sadness hung over the season, but instead the purest joy, contentment, and maybe - yes, definitely - even happiness. But none of these things are really in my control, and even if I pray for them, God is not a Santa Claus who delivers our desires wrapped in red paper, but a Father who recognizes our needs in light of the big picture that we can't see.

So. What I want for Christmas.

1. A Pilot Dr. Grip gel pen. They're $10, and the one I have used to write in my journal for seven years (that my father gave me for Christmas with the explicit instructions to "use it to write") was stolen by a homeless person over the summer. I guess even little commodities make a big difference in someone's life who owns nothing. Had I known he/she would steal my pen that day, per Jesus' instruction I would have given him/her my two gel ink refills, too. (They're not doing me any good right now.)
2. New shoes. I've only had the ones I usually wear less than two years, but the top layer is peeling off and I can feel a breeze in my foot whenever I take a step forward. I would like to not have to plan what socks I wear depending on whether I care if they get wet from the holes in the bottom of my shoes. (Did I mention the rubber on the bottoms is also worn through?)
3. Axis & Allies. Yes, it's a Risk-like board game where each player participates in World War II. "Control the fate of the world in this incredible game of military strategy, courage, and cunning!" My only hesitancy in owning this game is that no one will want to play it with me.
4. A hand-held mixer. I could really go all-out and tell you I want the green, "country pear"-colored upright Kitchen Aide mixer from Bed, Bath, & Beyond, but it's $400, and that's almost 3-months' salary for a persecuted pastor in China. All I need is a hand-held mixer so that my butter doesn't clump with my brown sugar.
5. A new loofah, Olay vanilla-scented body wash, toothpaste, a new toothbrush, dental floss, and one of those super nice Venus razors. This is the Christmas list of a college student.

be it ever so humble

There are some things that the absence of is needed in order to make you realize how much you loved it. My cold feet at night remind me of how warm my heated mattress pad made my flannel sheets. The orange-ish red concoction on the main line makes me realize how delicious Dad's turkey soup was. Waking up to the dark and a piercing alarm reminds me of the slow, sleepy awakenings to dishes clanging in the kitchen and light peeking through the slats in my blinds. Icy pellets from the sky onto sloppy muddy earth only slightly resemble the large flakes landing softly on an already existing blanket of whiteness.

Highlights of Christmas break '08:
+ Hiking through 2 feet of snow, burrowing under fallen logs, getting pushed in the snow by Dad who thought it'd be funny to spear me with his walking pole like Moby Dick.
+ the Christmas Eve service...twice.
+ Watching Band of Brothers in my bed.
+ Shoveling snow the first five times...after that it got tiring.
+ The first 300 pages of Anna Karenina...after that it got tiring.
+ Playing the Andy of Mayberry trivia game and speed scrabble with the fam. (Dad: "Do you spell 'slut' with one 't' or two?")
+ Watching Clint Eastwood movies, war documentaries, and Valkyrie with Dad.
+ Staying in my pajamas all day.
+ Baking peanut butter cookies every time the supply ran out.
+ Venturing by foot into unknown, snowy lands in search of the post office and stumbling into it like a dazed elf sutmbling into a ginger bread house on his way to the North Pole.

I miss Bing Crosby. And this:

Glory to God in the highest!

Sing sweet and low your lullaby
till angels sing, "Amen."
A mother tonight is rocking
A cradle in Bethlehem.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And I celebrate the day
that You were born to die
so I might one day pray for You to save my life.

the eve of our Saviour's birth

I'm sitting in the kitchen surrounded by sugar cookies and gingerbread boys dotted with little red candies. I sit here because through the glass doors in the kitchen I can see the snow falling. I love the snow. What is it about snow that makes me feel such a quiet gladness? What is it about walking through the snow, watching the snow, lying in the snow, that makes me feel such a still happiness? The war movie-watcher in me remembers scenes of battles in the snow, frost bite and gunfire and exploding shells breaking the silence and peace of the snow. The numbness in my fingers and toes while shoveling the driveway gives me just a taste of what those men must have felt, and forces me to respect and admiration and gratefulness. The writer in me tries to document and analyze the feeling I have at the sight of snow. It's always a futile attempt.

Still, still, still one can hear the falling snow. For all is hushed, the world is sleeping; Holy Star is vigil keeping. Still, still, still, one can hear the falling snow.

This year Christmas has been more about Jesus than is has all the years before. The focus hasn't been so much on presents and traditions, since parts of my family are absent and the traditions have sort of shattered and been swept under the rug. So Christmas morning won't be spent waiting at the top of the stairs for Dad to get his camera ready, like the previous 21 years of Christmases. Instead of the bustle of wrapping paper flying and telling Kitty to stop eating the ribbons, I can spend more time thinking about why Christmas even exists. "'The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel'—which means, 'God with us.'"

My anticipatory prayer on the eve of our Savior's birth: O come, o come Immanuel!

"thanks" doesn't even come close

Tonight I sat in the Methodist church downtown Wilmore as a brass band played Christmas carols and ribboned wreaths hung on the walls. I thought of the fact that this was my third year sitting in this church, letting my hands and feet warm after long walks up and down the street, ducking in and out of shops to eat cookies and drink hot chocolate. The last line of Bing Crosby singing "It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas" came to my mind, and I agreed: Sure, it's Christmas once more.

Afterward, I turned on the Christmas lights in my room and curled up on my couch, listening to my "Solemn Christmas Music" playlist. Mannheim Steamroller's "Still, Still, Still" came on, and I was reminded of what Christmas really is. Buttons and signs in peoples' yards declare "Jesus is the reason for the season!" but how often I forget the solemnity of Christmas.

Still, still, still
tis the eve of our Savior's birth

It reminds me of Psalm 46:10, "Be still, and know that I am God." Still. Jesus commanded the wind and the waves to Quiet! be still, but I think He also commands us to be still. Just be still. Amidst the Christmas carols and traditions and foods and shopping and movies....be still, and know who Jesus is. "'The virgin will be with child and will give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel'—which means, 'God with us'" (Matthew 1:23).

I love when the angel appears to the shepherds in Luke 2, and in verses 13-14 it says, "Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying, 'Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace to men on whom his favor rests.'" I can't imagine being those shepherds when that heavenly host appeared praising God. It reminds me of the heavenly host in Revelation 5:11-12, "Then I looked and heard the voice of many angels, numbering thousands upon thousands, and ten thousands times ten thousand. They encircled the throne and the living creatures and the elders. In a loud voice they sang, 'Worthy is the Lamb, who was slain, to receive power and wealth and wisdom and strength and honor and glory and praise!'"

I just love that we join in with that. The shepherds joined in with that then, we join in with that now, and when we get to heaven, we will join in with that!

Ding dong merrily on high, in the heaven the bells are ringing
Ding dong merrily the sky is riven with angels singing
Gloria, hosanna in excelsis!
Even so, here below, below, let steeple bell be swungen,
and i-o, i-o, i-o by priest and people sungen!
Gloria, hosanna in excelsis!

"For to us a child is born, to us a son is given, and the government will be on his shoulders. And he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace" (Isaiah 9:6).

get behind me, Satan

I feel like I'm trying to quit smoking and people keep blowing cigarette smoke in my face. I'm not sure if I've ever been this tempted to listen to Christmas music this early in the year. I keep listening to soundtracks from The Family Stone and Little Women in attempts to assuage my needy Christmas spirit. My mom just sent me my favorite cookies (which we always bake at Christmastime) and Holiday Inn (Irving Berlin's debut of "White Christmas" - but it doesn't count as a Christmas movie). I am going to eat and watch and think about how there are only 27 days until Thanksgiving break.

we need a good assassination

When my alarm went off at 7:00 yesterday morning I thought back to Christmas morning when, after going to bed at midnight, I woke up at 6:15 and eagerly bounced out of bed. Now I was struggling to get out of bed after 8 hours of sleep, and I delayed until my roommate's alarm went off at 7:30 before finally venturing out of my 100% Egyptian cotton sheets. There's such a difference between getting up to eat Stollen and sit by a fire while my cat toys with the ribbons on our presents and sitting for an hour and a half in my economics class while it's raining outside.

It's also interesting how much I didn't want to get up at 1:30 in the morning to sit in the basement during a tornado, as opposed to how excited I'd be to get up at 1:30 in the morning to, say, rise with all the saints at Jesus' second coming. I can just imagine Sam coming into my room and saying calmly, "Heather, Emily, you need to wake up. Jesus is coming back." I'm sure silver trumpets would be a much better awakening than tornado sirens. Though I think there's a special bonding that occurs between girls who are scrunched in the hall of a basement, wearing pajamas and sharing blankets, girls without makeup or contacts, wearing glasses and retainers. It's funny to see what people thought to bring when in a hurry to flee from a tornado. I thought about what I would miss if our dorm was destroyed and all of the contents of my room strewn across campus. And the one thing I thought about wasn't the 60 DVDs or my pristine complete history of WWII book or even my guitar. I began wishing I had brought down my teddy bear. I'd be sorry to ever be without Gilbert.

Mom and Dad are getting 12 inches of snow today in Wisconsin, and Dad woke Mom up this morning to make him pancakes. I sat in semi-darkness this morning at 7:15 eating cereal I stole from the cafeteria, and though I enjoy raisins and granola and bran, I wish I could have traded in my groggy munching for Mom's homemade buttermilk pancakes and Perkins' apricot syrup. I'm not quite ready to forgo my sweaters and argyle socks, but if it's going to be 65 degrees and thunderstorm anyway, I'd rather it be summer so I could go home and eat pancakes. Weather, get your act together.

I miss doing this....

What is leave?

- A pause that only makes everything after it so much worse. ((All Quiet on the Western Front))

It's raining outside, and the occasional rumble of thunder makes it feel more like a foggy spring morning than the first week of the new year. The air is tinted a strange yellow color through the raindrops on my window screen. The snow started melting drastically a couple days ago, about the same time our tree refused to light. It's as if Christmas has gone and is now reaching back to pluck away whatever remnants it left behind. Mom even threw away a tin of Christmas cookies that Dad and I weren't quite finished with.

Some might enjoy the warmer weather. Dad went out without a coat on the other day, excited that the temperature had reached 30 degrees. I, on the other hand, rather like turning on my heating blanket to a toasty 8 and falling asleep while my toes search out the warm spots in my bed. I almost prefer the cold of the bathroom linoleum on my bare feet; it makes the reward of crawling back in bed so much more worth it.

I think the mornings are definitely my favorite, while Mom's still in bed and Dad's at work. I lie on the love seat with my book (first All Quiet on the Western Front, then The Good Soldier, and now A Room with a View), my subconscious listening to the tick of the grandfather clock while I'm completely absorbed in the black letters on the page. And I hear the clock strike 8...then 9...and I realize that while my body has been lying on the love seat this whole time, my mind and emotions have been racing through Germany and England and Italy with characters deep, pensive, and true.

Why is it that I only seem to find the books I want to read when I've so little time left? Now that second semester swiftly approaches, I have a good 5 books in my sight that I want to read with less than a week left to read them. I'm sure if I devoted myself to only that, I could do it. But I get distracted by the sounds of the football game and the warmth of the blanket and the sleep that beckons me after a long Sunday morning. Only a month left of football season. Why must everything come to an end?

Things that don't have to come to an end, no matter the season: Lindt white chocolate truffles, the Glenn Miller orchestra, House marathons, friendships, knitting projects, my list of "to read"....

Why, I remember on that afternoon I saw a brown cow hitch its horns under the stomach of a black and white animal and the black and white one was thrown right into the middle of a narrow stream. I burst out laughing....I chuckled over it from time to time for the whole rest of the day. Because it does look very funny, you know, to see a black and white cow land on its back in the middle of a stream. It is just so exactly what one doesn't expect from a cow. ((The Good Soldier))

goodbyes

I feel like Frodo Baggins at the end of The Return of the King: "It's gone. It's done." (Except I'm not standing on a rock surrounded by lava on Mount Doom, in need of a shower and a new index finger.) I never liked New Year's. Sure, as far back as playing Jeopardy on Brandon's Playstation at Y2K I can remember spending New Year's with my family and friends, watching the ball drop, eating shrimp, going to bed to Frank Sinatra's "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" and wondering where the season went. This year I spent 4 hours with a group of people I didn't know, was too tired to eat shrimp when I came home, dismissed the ball-dropping because it had dropped an hour earlier, and went to bed a little after midnight without any Christmas lights on. I have yet to have that "one last time"-listen to "White Christmas."

The snow has been lovely, as has the time with my family. The traditions haven't stopped just because we're in a new house, but they feel different. Is that possible? Yes, I know it is. In a sense I feel very homeless, because school isn't home, and this isn't home. I love being with my family...but it's possible to feel out of place even when they're here.

Well my friends, it's time to say goodbye to Christmas and wish you all a happy beginning to 2008. I wonder what the year will bring? What things will be different this time next year?

We sing His praise this day of days and pray this time next year
we'll all be near to share the cheer of a Christmas auld lang syne

a wish your heart makes

I think I get more excited over the idea of things than the things themselves. I was just thinking about how much I want to own a bookstore, live in an apartment, own a cat with a literary name, read books while it's snowing outside, drive over to Mom's to bake cookies for whatever church function is happening that night....But what about the things I don't take into account? How much responsibility will it be to own my own bookstore? How much work will it take? Paying rent and bills and cleaning out the kitty litter - maybe I won't even have time to read while it snows (maybe it won't even snow!) and I'll be too tired to bake. My, imagining is fun. But that's exactly what imagining is: thinking about things that aren't real or true or haven't happened or won't happen. But I do like to think about it, even if it is unrealistic. If I didn't have these "unrealistic" dreams about my future, I would feel very much like I was wasting my time in Accounting and Small Business Management and How to Be a Grown-Up 101. (I wish that was a real class.)

Amidst the 72-degree weather here in Kentucky, it's snowing 5 inches in Wisconsin. I want very much to go home for Christmas now. I have a strong urge to read something Nathaniel Hawthorne, but maybe that's another one of those "ideas" that I won't really like once I get a hold of.

Happiness is celebrating the little things - my Dove chocolate holiday wrapper

Pearl Harbor Remembrance Day

Time is an odd thing. I don't know if you ever noticed, but it doesn't stop. Thanksgiving was already two whole weeks ago. We are in the thick of the Christmas season. Lights are strung across mall ceilings and every department store plays "Deck the Halls" behind the voices of bustling Christmas shoppers. Sales! Pushy peddlers! Did you know the Leo diamond is the most beautiful diamond in the world? Or so says the nice gentleman at LeRoy's Jewelers who was either bored or really thought I had $6700 in my red polka-dotted purse to shell out on a sparkly ring (with 6 more cuts than a regular diamond! See how it glitters in the light? Uh, not really. Do you want to try it on? No, thanks. It looks better on! The only way I am putting that ring on is if Mel Gibson is offering it to me on one knee).

Monday I walked around a housing development at 9 o'clock, the cold air filtering through the knit of my gloves. I stopped in front of a house completely covered in white icicle lights as Frank Sinatra began singing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas" on my iPod. As I watched the house, I imagined cars pulling into the driveway and parking on the street, walking up to the door in knee-length coats and red gloves, a woman opening the front door in an apron and revealing a warm world lit with candles and smelling of gingerbread. Instrumental Christmas music flowed out of the house and voices rose in greeting as desserts were presented to the hostess as a thank-you offering. And as I stood there on the sidewalk, Frank Sinatra singing, "Through the years we all will be together," I thought about the Christmases past, with youth group and church and family. How different it'll be going home to a house I've only known for 4 days and a church who forgets my name.

Time is an odd thing. I never thought Thanksgiving would come, but it has, and is passed. Christmas break seems so far away, but in two weeks I'll be home with the semester behind me. Time keeps going. Sometimes I feel like something will never come or never end, yet somehow I end up on the other side of it looking back at it, wondering how I got through it. I just can't wait to be on the other side of this semester. TWO MORE WEEKS!

Christmas time is here

It's Christmastime. What does that mean? It means jingle bell earrings that sing a silvery song with each step I take and bobble of my head. It means Wilmore Old Fashioned Christmas, walking around town bundled in knitted scarves and drinking hot chocolate provided by vendors selling homemade Christmas gifts. Covering our doors with snowman wrapping paper and cutting snowflakes out of construction paper to hang from the ceiling. Lit angels attached to streetlights and Christmas lights outlining homes like gingerbread houses. It means that soon I'll be going home to be with family again, baking peanut butter cookies and watching the lights on the Christmas tree blur when my eyes water. Dad says it's snowing in Wisconsin right now, and I know the fire will be lit in the living room as the flames reflect off the hardwood floors and the Christmas tree fills the room with pine. I can't wait to go home again, but for now I breathe in my pumpkin spice candle and string my Christmas lights around my room and listen to my 15-year-old Christmas carousel run out of batteries. It's Christmastime! No matter where I am, the mere thought that it's Christmastime makes me feel full, warm, and joyous. My heart sings this song...or maybe this song sings my heart....

Still, still, still,
One can hear the falling snow.
For all is hushed,
The world is sleeping,
Holy Star its vigil keeping.
Still, still, still,
One can hear the falling snow.

Sleep, sleep, sleep,
'Tis the eve of our Saviour's birth.
The night is peaceful all around you,
Close your eyes,
Let sleep surround you.
Sleep, sleep, sleep,
'Tis the eve of our Saviour's birth.

Dream, dream, dream,
Of the joyous day to come.
While guardian angels without number,
Watch you as you sweetly slumber.
Dream, dream, dream,
Of the joyous day to come.

"I've got plenty to be thankful for"

I'm thankful for, among so much else.... cranberry tea and football games and traditions and stone fireplaces and cream cheese frosting on pumpkin cookies and Christmas lights and Christmas music in the kitchen and cinnamon candles and endless turkey leftovers and snow on Thanksgiving Eve and nutmeg-sprinkled eggnog and all four Lethal Weapons for $10 and Christmas movies at night and "homemade" and

my neighbors being home when I locked myself out of the house on Wednesday. As cold as it was running down the street in my pajamas and socks, I enjoyed meeting Peggy and Phil.
("Which house do you live in?" Peggy asked me.
"That blue one down there," I answered.
"Do you live at home? I've never seen you before."
I should have introduced myself as Boo Radley and then stabbed her leg with a pair of scissors.)

and afternoon naps, which I think I'm going to take right now, as Alton Brown makes coconut cake on the Food Network.

Oh there's no place like home for the holidays // for no matter how far away you roam // If you want to be happy in a million ways // for the holidays you can't beat home sweet home