That’s What I Am

I admit it. I’m not ashamed. I will freely confess that I am an Advent purist, advocate, passionate promotor, whatever you want to call me. I find it such a beautiful season liturgically. It perfectly mirrors what is happening in nature. As the days continue to grow shorter the readings, the lighting of the candles, the preparations for the big feast are taking place. The keeping of Advent helps so much to make the Christmas celebration more special. When I had a Christmas tree I used to put that up and decorate it on Christmas Eve in the morning while listening to the Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols from King’s College in Cambridge, England. It would already be late afternoon there. The lone boy soprano singing the first verse of “Once in Royal David’s City” always sent chills up and down my back. I think it may have been that service that made me passionate to help found a boys’ choir here in the city. Even after the choir was founded and established we did not “do” a Christmas concert. All of the directors were busy with other Christmas events and we assumed the boys were as well. After several years and as many discussions we settled upon a Christmas Tea. The boys sang a rather short concert and then the parents hosted a tea for all those who came. It grew into a tradition. For the first time in over 20 years that is not happening this year. I will miss it. I will miss seeing a choirboy from many years ago who continues to come with his mother every year. It’s a part of that family’s tradition. He’s all grown up and married now but mom and son still come every year. Some of those traditions are very hard to give up mainly because they define the people we are. They form the memories that we hold dear. I will freely admit that the Christmas tree in my house went by the wayside many years ago. Cats and Christmas trees are simply not compatible. I still have boxes of ornaments that mean very much to me, but they stay in boxes in the basement storage room. Who would want them? I have no idea. To others they are just ornaments. To me they are memories of where they were acquired or from whom they were received. This week the figures for the crèche will appear on their way to the stable. The tableau has its residence on the mantel above the living room fireplace. The feline of the household has to admire it from afar since there is no access (by design) for Sophia to examine it more closely. The crèche was gift from a dear friend who was laid to rest several years ago. I’m still grateful. The closest IKEA to us is in the Twin Cities area. I think it was on my second visit that I spied these illuminated wreathes of which I am fond.

The lights had to be replaced but they still bring brightness to the living room with their sparkle dispelling the darkness. One frames a snowflake which was purchased at the gift shop of the art center in Brookings. The supposition is that we really have enough snow in South Dakota. Who needs one more flake hanging in the house? When it refracts the sunlight the room is full of rainbows. In spite of its shape, it’s lovely. The great good news of the week was the arrival of the first vaccine. Some have received their first dose and many more will do so in the next weeks. And then there are those who will refuse to be vaccinated. Probably many of the same persons who refuse to wear a mask. One cannot be thankful enough for the hope that the vaccine brings. Our lives may return to “normal” if we can remember what that is. In the meantime one cannot be overly careful. A very good friend who has been extremely careful is in the hospital with Covid-19. She has refused to go into stores, has everything delivered or curbside pick-up. She has avoided all social gatherings. I don’t know of anyone who has been more careful. Yet she is afflicted with the virus.

Many days this week we were blessed with tolerable temperatures and sunlight. It has been a joy to go for a couple of short strolls each day. I can tell that these walks are good for my endurance. Given all that is going on it is so easy to sit around in one’s cocoon. Sometimes it’s a struggle to get out but I’m usually happy I’ve done it. I’ve felt very well the past week. Christmas Eve morning I will have a CT scan and an MRI. These reveal what is really going on unseen and inside. Because of the way I feel I am not worried about bad news. Thanks for your prayers, your cards, your calls and all that you’ve done to keep in touch. I’m grateful for you. May your Christmas celebration bring you happiness, peace, and hope. I’ll get back to you on the Second Day of Christmas.