Tag Archives: Christmas Letters

Sans letters

02 Friday Dec 2011

Posted by in Life at Home, Writing

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By Monday, they should be at their destination — delivered to mailboxes, which if anything like mine, will be full of the too-familiar chorus of catalogs and flyers — each shouting for attention with color and bulk — drowning out the rare voice of a personal greeting — like that annual Christmas Carol of mine.

I Imagine most on my mailing list will make quick work of their mail.  Like me, they’ll sort.  Then make short stacks — one to discard now; one to discard later.  And in so doing, they’ll come across that little card. It will stand out because of its handwritten address — not done by computer, made to look handwritten — and the mere sight of it — if they are anything like me — will make their hearts sing.  Oh, the joy — that comes from receiving a piece of personal mail.

My Christmas cards always contain a letter.  The tradition grew out of handwritten notes which in recent years, graduated to being typed and professionally printed.  Many tell of how they enjoy my letters, how they look forward to receiving and reading them —  how my words inspired them to pen their own annual letter.  One friend on my list has a rather small printing:  she sends out one.  And this — I probably don’t have to say but will anyway — makes me feel all-day special —  for many days.

Yet, I wasn’t up to writing and packaging my year in 500 words or less this time around.  So sans letters, I sent out cards..  And in a year where I’ve written so little, relative to others — releasing them into the world without weight of  personal words felt right — in keeping, in harmony, in tune with my year.  And at this moment, in the now, I can’t imagine any will mind.  Most, in the busyness of life, won’t even miss my missive — why, if truth be told, I probably wrote more for myself than any one on my list.

But while at peace with the act of going letter-less, what wouldn’t go away was a desire to make my greeting personal.  And with a wish to put my best face forward —  and other faces in my family forward too — I enclosed something better than a letter — a glossy little card, offering a small collection of six black and white images — each depicting joy, peace and hope, to harmonize with my card’s printed message:

“May the gifts of peace, hope and joy be yours at Christmas and throughout the New Year.”

No need to embellish these words with my own, I thought when I found them.  But how good and right to underline them — to show rather than tell, as they instruct in the world of writing  —  with faces of joy, hope and peace from my everyday life.  And so I did.  The photos were easy to choose.  The first, captured last January — seconds after her birth, almost a year ago now  —  is of my newest granddaughter, Reese Caroline, with her newborn parents.  The second, a cropped photo of our new front porch leads to the third, an already poignant photo of Don this past June — where he sits at his mother’s kitchen table, in front of a lit birthday cake baked by his dying mother — in a wordless poem, her back is turned to the camera.  Four, five and six celebrate the wonders of an October wedding.  And all of these, I pray, let me never forget.

***

Go now, my best bits and pieces of joy, hope and peace for 2011.  Make your way into the world, as I cover you with this borrowed benediction from a favorite pastor:   Today.  Always.  “Go in peace.  Not in pieces.”

Hallelujah!  My little Christmas Carolers.  Handel with care.

Watershed Wonders

25 Saturday Dec 2010

Posted by in Life at Home, Prayer, Soul Care

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“Say after me:  It’s no better to be safe than sorry.”  –  a-ha

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Watershed years defy tidy summary.  But as a nod to Dad and his passion for movies, I’ll begin by calling ours, “Two Funerals and a Wedding,” but then focus on these other in-between moments: Two college graduations; a wedding announcement by Bryan and Amy; and soon — anytime now — the birth of a new grandchild, Kara and Joe’s first.  Next year’s sequel waits to answer our family cliffhanger: Is it a girl or boy?

Amid these transitions, Don’s travel schedule was lighter than usual, with just a few short trips to Houston and overseas.  And while his annual backpacking trip fell by the wayside, we headed off into the western sunset together to enjoy the beauty growing wild in Alaska. It was our first taste of life on the retiree’s travel circuit – and while we may not have made the cut, we didn’t leave the ship without booking next year’s trip.

Closer to home, our family enjoyed a different sort of travel as we again took turns hosting a monthly moveable feast.  Most months we kept it simple by gathering at a local restaurant, where we played our assigned roles.  Don’s regular part is the manager who keeps us anchored in reality while moving clockwise, Kyle and Kara are our two creative souls, who talk someday of writing a children’s book together.  Then Kara’s husband Joe is the consummate sports fan, who is always strategically positioned to watch whatever sport happens to be airing on television.  Next are resident lovebirds Amy and Bryan — just glad to be together again, with Amy having just returned from a month-long family visit.  Finally there’s Glen and Kate, who keep us in stitches with their repartee — with Kate rolling her eyes, Glen’s been talking about how he knows how to fix their broken toilet — but that he’s just not worked up to it yet.

And then there’s me — the one who could write the book on not yet working up to doing “this” or “that.”  So how fitting it was for my watershed moments to pry me out of my contemplative comfort zone:  From leading my father’s funeral service in April to spending ten days at the Iowa Writer’s Workshop in July, you may be surprised to learn I’ve continued to set aside my introverted nature to make cold calls on Dad’s family back East.  While the calls began with hope of picking up the missing and puzzling pieces of Dad’s sad childhood story, my restored family connections have evolved into something more – especially my regular visits with Aunt Carol, Dad’s only sister – but exactly what the ‘more’ is I’m not ready to name.  Yet I can report how downright comical it’s been to listen to my own introductory spiel — telling unknown cousins how we really are related — before they hang up the phone, thinking I’m some sort of strange solicitation call.

I don’t know where the changes will lead.  But I know mine began during Lent, listening every morning to this ‘song-bite’ – “Say after me:  It’s no better to be safe than sorry” – performed by a band fittingly named a-ha. In a year punctuated by my father’s and aunt’s deaths – as well as the upcoming marriage of my brother Jon – I can’t help but wonder how lives would differ if we were to live everyday believing this song-bite true.  And on this dangling question I’ll close – for in this Season born of watershed wonders and professions of faith, who could want a tidy ending?  Like some movies, tidiness can be overrated.

Christmas Greetings

25 Friday Dec 2009

Posted by in Life at Home, Mesta Park

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This year I’ve traded paper and pencil for digital pages and keystrokes.  Everyday life is now carefully preserved in the blog that Kyle encouraged me to begin last Christmas. There I rewind and hit pause to really see and listen to everyday life — it keeps my days from slipping into a sea of lost memories.  I find peace by anchoring sleep-robbing thoughts to a line of words — to write is to mutter sleepily to my worries, “Now stop your whining.”  Deeper thoughts and feelings lie beneath the easily spoken words of, “We’re doing fine.” —  which are resurrected through writing, from the depths of unconsciousness.

To pull up a post from last January is to again see two gorgeous standard poodles frolicking in the snow.  I smile as Maddie and Max, coated in icy rhinestones, make their own snow ice cream — all from scratch.  A story in February makes me laugh at my own Lucy Ricardo moment.  Once again, I stand trance-like in front of the oven watching Kyle’s 21st celebratory birthday meal go up in smoke, while nearby, Don remains his unflappable, supporting self.  Much smarter than Desi Arnaz, Don knew no amount of “splainin’” would avert the dinner party crisis staring us in the face.

The food that doesn’t burn up in the oven continues to set the stage for everyday life.  The blog is becoming a repository for all our favorite recipes.  Recorded are recipes for comfort foods such as Oatmeal Cherry Cookies, Potato Soup, Sure Shot Rolls, Meatloaf and Firehouse Chicken Enchiladas. All recipes are prefaced by a story of the recipe’s origin; the first names of friends and family always receive screen credit.

The joys of everyday life are there, like the stories from last March, born from our trip to Las Vegas for Kate and Glen’s wedding.  Downhill days, including the five weeks in late April and May when Don worked in China, live here also.  While Don kept close watch over contract negotiations for Dow, I kept my own watch over Dad’s sharp decline in health.  After four ER visits and two hospital stays, Dad now lives in a nursing home.  Every Tuesday afternoon, my brother Jon and I share our lives with our greatly diminished father.

And on and on everyday life goes.  The boys will soon graduate.  Kara and Joe settle into married life, shaking wanderlust from their systems.  My list of “grands’ has doubled with Kate’s remarriage.  Yet importantly, we count each and every day a miracle.  To wake up to the sounds of Don brewing his morning cup of tea makes me thank God for the life we share together.  And with our supporting comedic cast of three dogs, including a new Scottie I call our holy terror, it sometimes feels as if Don and I animate life in a cartoon.

Everyday stories are sacred.  It’s ironic that we remember the days where certificates are handed out – like for marriage, the birth of a child, a college graduation or some other milestone – yet forget that the best of real life is sandwiched in between.  Don and I are better people for knowing and sharing everyday life with you.  Even now, we carry you within us.

It is good to celebrate life while we can.  And there is no better way to celebrate than with a good old fashioned face-to-face visit.  Facebook may do in a pinch, but when I can’t have the “real deal”, I like the good new fashioned visits which come through my blog — my front porch to the world.  Here I welcome old friends and new.  I tell my story and my guests share theirs.  And sometimes… life slows down enough… so that we can really take in… a “long loving glance at the Real.” “Meet Me in Mesta Park.”