Christmastime is Here

I really do love to look at Christmas decorations-AFTER they have all been finely arranged. And that is usually in someone else's home! I do put up decorations each year; although each year I say I will NOT do any decorating-yeah, right. Truth be told, I really do love pulling out the decorations from underneath the basement steps. It actually motivates me to clean under there-mostly remainders of small crawling things. Sorting through each container is like stepping back in time-each piece has a memory associated with it. I need to force myself to stay on task so I don't end up with STUFF strewn everywhere. Oh wait. When I am DONE decorating, I do have STUFF STREWN EVERYWHERE! But it is a joyful 'strewn'-and meaningful to my family anyway.

If visitors would openly express their invisible thought bubbles above their heads, I might hear comments such as, "What was she thinking?" and, "I can't believe she kept THAT!" or maybe, "WHAT IS THAT?!" (Put the emphasis on any of those three words; it all works.) I must confess, most of my decorations are an eclectic collection of my children's works of 'art'-beginning many years ago. I simply will not get rid of it. Each item has a sweet story to tell and holds a piece of my heart. Although there are many items my kids (do you still call them 'kids' when they are long ago all grown up?) would be happy if I pitched, they also admit that pulling out those same decorations year after year-while laughing and wondering, "What WERE we thinking?"-is just one of the precious elements of the Christmas season. Most of the other decorative items that are not gifts from them, or from someone else, are 'gifts' from garage sales. It doesn't seem to matter though. We all love when it all gets set in its special ordained place. I think it must have something to do with 'familiarity'. Familiarity feels safe.

As I think back to my childhood, I realize how safe and friendly 'familiarity' felt to me. Each Christmas season brought out the SAME decorations, and traditions, in that family of mine. Mom put on her "Firestone" Christmas album collection-vinyl on the Hi-Fi. (Does ANYBODY know what I am talking about?!) The REAL tree would be brought in. Dad would string the lights-excuse me; we called them 'bulbs' back then. They were BIG! Then, it was his self-appointed labor of love to hang four ornaments-each identical to the other-way at the top of the tree. They were exquisite looking-at least in my young eyes. Mom would pull out the advent wreath and place it on the round coffee table (as it was called way back when). After all of us children (eventually, there were nine of us!) finished hanging the ornaments, it was time for those classic ICICLES. Yes, those silver, shimmery strands of-TEDIOUSNESS! My parents always instructed us (as if we could ever forget!) to HANG THEM ONE AT A TIME! I did find a way to hang two or three at a time without getting caught. Okay-I'm quite sure they really did know; they just chose not to engage in that battle.

During the holiday season it was my dad who spent days baking delightful cookies. He would carefully place each kind in a freezer container and build up the supply over time. All of us kids found a way to sneak an occasional cookie by taking one out of the back of the container. Well, duh; of course Dad discovered our antics when he opened the containers to find the back half of the container empty. I don't remember him being upset by that. I do remember him experimenting with recipes. Now that I think about it, I don't even remember him using recipes! That would explain some things. Seriously, ALL of his cookie creations were fantastic. His cobblers were a different story. Maybe I'll write about them another time. Let's just say they seemed to share some of the same characteristics as the wheat paste that we used for paper mache projects.

So many memories; so much familiarity; and I thank God for ALL of it-even the stuff that may not have been so pleasant. The other day when one of my students asked me what I did "last night", I told him, "I called my mom; then I called my dad." My words hit me in a whole new way. It used to be, "I called my mom and dad", because they lived together. Not any more. Mom continues to journey deeper into the unknown realm of dementia (I'm afraid to even ask her if she knows who I am-don't really want to know the answer if it's not the 'right' one!). She seems content in her assisted living surroundings-who really knows? Dad just moved into a different house; one I have yet to see. There will be no more family gatherings in that big, oh so familiar house. There will be no more setting up of the family tree. Yes, even though I have been out of their home for 30+ years, some of those early childhood traditions continued in their home.

It can be quite difficult to transition into 'new traditions' when we simply want to hang on to the 'used to be's'. Change is inevitable. So-when faced with change, face it with the 'unchanging One'-God. Change will never surprise Him. He will never wring His hands and say, "I didn't know THAT was going to happen!" He is in control of all change, and He delights in guiding us through the 'newness' of it. So, as I continue to decorate with what is near and dear to my heart-the old and familiar!-I will also continue to seek His face and hold His hand as I will surely need to continue to journey into the unfamiliar.

"Sweet Lord, I thank You that everything is completely familiar to You; nothing surprises You. You make me ready for whatever You have planned. Please help me to be ready and willing to go 'there' with You."

Thanks for reading,

Libby