Re-Entry, Re-Newal

You probably thought I was still languishing on that sunny Floridian beach, didn't you? I'm not, more's the pity.

No indeed, late Monday evening I took the silver bullet express straight back to the hell that is Michigan in mid-winter.  When I woke up yesterday morning, I was greeted with skies the color of a battleship, and just about as menacing.  But they coordinated perfectly with the two inch layer of ice carpeting the driveway, not to mention the three week old slushy snow that's still piled in mounds along the roadsides.

Ick.

"How can you stand to come back here after being in Florida?" my boss asked me yesterday morning.

"It's not easy," I replied. "It always takes me a few days to accept the reality of my situation and come to terms with it."

I must admit that this particular re-entry has been harder than normal, and I'm sure I haven't been the most pleasant of people to be around for the past couple of days.  Even the dogs seem to sense it, looking at me warily from a distance as if they're unsure whether it's safe to approach.  I've actually written three blog posts since I got home and deleted every one of them as simply too depressing to post for public consumption.

So I'm trying to get myself into a more positive frame of mind before the ball drops on 2011.

One of the things I hope to do in 2011 is write more ~I say that every year, but this year I have a couple of writing projects in mind that might provide the impetus I need.  Also, several of my blogging friends (including my son!) have announced their intentions to do more writing...maybe we can all keep each other honest.

And in that vein - Wordpress just announced a new initiative called The Daily Post, a blog on which they will post something everyday in an effort to inspire other bloggers to do the same.  Check it out - I'm planning on signing up.  Nothing like a new project to give me something to look forward to.

It's not quite a walk on the beach, but it'll do for now.

How about you?  What creative goals do you have for 2011?

Christmas on the Beach

The other day I was writing about traditions (or notably the lack of them in my particular case), which led to me musing on the possibility of deliberately setting out to start a new holiday tradition. Well, gentle readers, I believe I have found one.

Christmas on the beach.

We woke up rather late this morning, and when we learned we'd have the morning alone (son was busy packing and boxing in final preparations for movers tomorrow) decided to drive down to the beach.  It was just the sort of beach weather I enjoy - not overly warm, bright sun, blue sky, gentle breeze.  Forgoing the beach paraphenalia - chairs, umbrella, refreshments - we smoothed sunscreen on our faces and hopped into the car.  We'll walk for a while, we thought, listen to the surf, collect some shells.

I was surprised to find lots of people at the beach on Christmas morning, many of them families with small children happily playing the sand, gathering buckets full of the shells which are so plentiful on the Gulf Coast.   One little girl kept running back and forth from a huge mound of seashells, filling a strainer and then rushing down to the ocean and dipping them in the waves.  "How about if I just rinse, Daddy?" she asked, when her father encouraged her to spend some time sifting through for perfect specimens.

A young couple walked dreamily hand in hand, so obviously dumb struck by the sheer wonder of each other's presence that they might as well have been walking on Mars as on Vanderbilt beach.

Grandparents sat huddled in sweaters and blankets, their Floridian blood not accustomed to the unseasonably cool breeze off the water, but bravely soldiering on for the sake of the grandchildren.

And we walked, just as we had planned, barefoot along the hard packed sand, occasionally drifting close enough to let the chilly water stream over our toes.  I chose a handful of shells which I'll layer into the big glass vase I have at home representing my finds of countless trips to the beach over the past 10 years.  The surf's gentle rhythm had its usual calming effect, traipsing through the sand made us nicely tired, and after about an hour we were ready to head home for some lunch and a nap.

Now there is chicken roasting in the oven, salad greens washed and ready to be tossed, some good bread about to be baked, and wine breathing in preparation for pouring.  Our little family will soon gather to share a meal and celebrate the goodness of the past and the hopeful promise of the future.

Although some of our Florida traditions will soon be ending, I was well pleased with the new one we started today.

...and to all a good night

So here we are,  just minutes away the from Day of Days, the one all children everywhere have been anticipating, the one Christians the world over have been awaiting, the day we've all been preparing for in some way, shape, or form, since Thanksgiving. Christmas.

I've been writing about the holiday in somewhat generic terms and musing on memories of holiday's in general rather than delve into the specifics of this holiday in particular.  There's a reason for that, which I'll get to in a minute.   But first, here's what Christmas means to me.

Hope.

At its heart, the celebrations which have evolved in the past 2010 years surrounding the birth of a Jewish baby in a manger stall in Bethlehem, are all about the amazing possibilities which can occur in the life of an ordinary person.  Mary, the Blessed Mother, was just an ordinary young woman.   Joseph, her husband, was only a humble carpenter.  Neither one of them had any claim to fame in their society.  Neither one of them was special in any way.   Yet somehow they gave birth to a miracle child, who became known as Wonderful Counselor, Blessed Savior, the Son of God.

Hope.

None of that could have  happened without Mary and Joseph's willingness to take a chance, to embrace the opportunity that came unto them, to journey into the unknown and welcome the possibilities that lay at the end of their journey.

Hence, the specifics of this holiday in particular for me.

Within the next week, my son and his wife will set out on a journey of their own, moving from their first home where they've lived all of their married life,  into another state far away, into another way of life, and into embracing a new family of friends.  It's a wise move for them, an opportunity to expand not only their careers, but their social network as well.   It's a move filled with positives, a move filled with hope.

I'm nothing but happy for them ~ and proud, too, that they have the courage to take on another life change with all the unknowns and plunge ahead  with such aplomb.  Like Mary and Joseph they go forward into the future, following the star of their dreams, not knowing exactly where it will lead but holding faith in the hope of brighter and better things to come.

Of course, I'd be lying if I said I had no sad feelings - I've loved having the ability to fly here and see them regularly and easily, to have the double luxury of having a vacation home in the same neighborhood so we can combine seeing our kid with having a nice getaway in sunny Florida.  Having them close by to look over the house and pick us up at the airport has been a blessing, one we'll really miss if we end up keeping our house here much longer.

But I know that a life without change and growth is no life at all.  And though I sometimes have to be dragged kicking and screaming into it, I believe change is the backbone of the thing I call hope.

The promise of something better to come.

That's what I wish for my best beloved son, and for all of you on this Christmas Eve night.

Traditionally

Each year our boss hosts a holiday party for the staff and this year's event was memorably lovely.  Because it's a small group (we topped out at 10), we fit rather nicely into an anteroom of a local restaurant.  Seated around an elegantly dressed table in front of a gently sputtering fire, we enjoyed a delicious dinner, some lively conversation, and well chosen personal gifts. As we finished our coffee and dessert, discussion turned to plans for the holidays, and my boss initiated one of her famous "let's go around the table" questions.  Tonight's query - "What's your favorite holiday tradition?"

"We always play board games on Christmas Eve," one of my co-worker's responded.  "Even though the kids are teenagers now, they still look forward to staying up late for game night."

"Going to the tree farm and choosing our Christmas Tree is special to me," another colleague answered.  "Especially this year, since all the kids are older now and I don't know how much longer we'll be able to do this together."

"I enjoy having the family together on Christmas day and being able to hang out in our pajamas all day if we want," my boss answered, earning a laugh from all of us.

As I listened, I was scrambling through my mind for an appropriate response.  In the past decade, our holidays have become noticeably tradition-less. Sometimes we're in Florida, sometimes we're not.  Sometimes we have Christmas dinner, sometimes we have brunch instead.  Sometimes we exchange gifts, sometimes we say "let's not bother."

Holidays in my childhood weren't notably  tradition- filled either.  The tree went up sometime in early December, and soon the gifts began appearing underneath it.  There would be a flurry of baking -pies, cakes, cookies, and my Aunt Lil's famous Divinity candy (my mouth is watering as I recall the sugary sweetness and the moist, chewy coconut).  The holiday dinner was sometimes at our house, but some years it would be at my aunt's tiny house on the lake in Pontiac.  Other than my Christmas reading ritual, I was hard pressed to come up with any tried and true traditions there.

When my son was little, our holiday routine was written in stone, but that didn't necessarily make it a "favorite tradition." On Christmas morning, the three of us would open our presents at home, which usually took quite a while because Brian liked to play Santa and he only allowed us to open one gift at a time.  After we finished at our house, we'd drive up the street to my parent's house, and go through the entire present opening process again, one gift at a time.  Then, we'd rush home in preparation for my in-laws arrival (we tried to postpone the agony of that as long as possible), at which time we'd go through the gift exchange for the third time.

Then, I'd serve dinner.

So throughout the holiday season,  I have this uneasy sense of expectation, as if I should be engaging in a series of traditional activities specific to me and my family, but I don't know exactly what they're supposed to be.  I wonder if it's too late to start traditions now?  And are traditions something by nature that must be repeated every year?  If you have to skip a year, does it count as a tradition?

Obviously, I over-think.  Perhaps I should just accept that not all holidays must have "classic" traditions, that the things we do in honor of the season each year are valid whether they're "traditional" for us or not.

Or that whatever traditions we once had, though now retained only in our memory, can still be called up and counted as favorite, though the time for celebrating them has passed.  In the end, it was this kind of tradition I chose to recount at the party last week.

"When my son was little," I said, "he was allowed to open one present on Christmas Eve.  That present was always a book, and I would bundle him into bed and read the new book until he fell asleep."

In retrospect, that was definitely my favorite Christmas tradition.

Time On My Hands

It feels strange to have time on your hands when the majority of the world is running around in a state of mad confusion, trying to complete all the items on their holiday to-do lists as they fight the crowds, battle the elements, and deal with whatever nasty virus has invaded their body.  At the risk of being mauled by the crowds of revelers who find themselves in this sad and sorry state, I might even go so far as to say I've been a bit bored this holiday season. In Christmas past, I've been accustomed to performing all over town with one musical group or another at this time of year, running from one rehearsal to the next, traveling hither and yon with bells or choirs.

But that was then, and I don't do that anymore.

So there was none of that busyness this month. I was scheduled to accompany one school concert, which was cancelled when the director was injured in a car crash two weeks ago.  Now it seems we won't be at church on Christmas Eve, so I haven't even gone to church choir rehearsal for the past couple of weeks, as rehearsals are pretty focused on the events of that night's service.

What have I been doing then, with all that wonderful, sweet, free and unencumbered time?

I'd love to tell you that I've baked dozens of delicious and decorative Christmas cookies.

Or that I've festooned the halls of my house with garlands and lights, and smothered a ten foot evergreen with ornaments and lace.

I really wish I could report having spearheaded a campaign to raise money for Toys for Tots, or Meals on Wheels, or some other wonderfully worthy charity.

Alas, I have not done those things.

Mostly, I've just wandered around in wonderment that I have so little to do.

I've been to some parties, I've done a little shopping.

I've done a comparison test with Peppermint Mocha's (so far Bigby Coffee's is the winner).

There's been lots of reading in the morning, and even a nap or two in the afternoon (sinful, isn't it?)

In comparison with so many of my past December's which absolutely roared with activity and pressure, this one has been utterly tame and placid.  I'm considering it a gift, one I've unwrapped a bit more each day, peeking beneath the shiny paper to catch a glimpse of what I might want to do next.

The gift of time is a precious one indeed - in any month - but especially in December.

How about you?  What are you doing with your bright and shiny days this month?