When You Can

Over Thanksgiving weekend I felt inspired to start decorating for Christmas.

In recent years I've become very attached to Advent and the notion of preparing for Christ. Slowly decorating and taking in the small joys of the season is one way I keep my focus on the Christian aspect of this holiday.

Dad and I found ourselves putting the lights on the outside of the house. Erik loves the lights, in fact we all do, and it's been so dreary here in Kentucky we thought, 'Why wait any longer?'.

'This is fun!', I said to Dad, with a note of surprise in my voice.

The lights are something I've always delegated to Lee and the kids. It became our tradition. This year, though, found Lee under the weather. Spencer was also battling a cold (or allergies? We never know!). Liam couldn't be bothered, and Erik had a headache.

So it was Dad and I. Because of my ridiculous fear of heights I opted to let my 76 year old father climb the ladder. I kept asking, 'Do you feel secure?' as a means of keeping him safe.

Maybe I've never told you of the time he fell of the ladder, breaking a few vertebrae about 25 years ago.

Still, I felt that Dad was the best choice for the ladder work.

'You never know who's going to be helping with this,' he said. It was just a comment, not a judgement. But it got me thinking: this is one of the first years I felt that I could.

We do what we can, when we can.

Being in the same place for nearly five years has given us time to make memories. It's given us time to figure out new things.

Taking walks most days is one of me and Liam's traditions. The other kids used to come along, but now it's just us two. Arguing is a pastime of Liam's, so there are days that I go it alone.

Living in our neighborhood are some sweet Christmas elves. These elves place ornaments in and around each home. I think it started the year after we moved here, but I can't quite remember.

The flash of color on dull December days is a reminder that someone cares. As we walk and point out shiny orbs spied in various trees, bushes, or bird feeders we can't help but be cheered.

On our most recent walk Liam turned back to go home because he refuses to wear a coat. You see, coats are puffy, tight, and too constricting. Maybe you don't see. I don't, but on child #4 I'm done arguing.

Anyway, meandering through the neighborhood alone I felt nostalgic. It feels good to be a part of a tradition, even one that is someone else's doing. Thinking about the recent years gone by I felt surprised by my own joy.

Years past have found the holidays feeling heavier. Harder. Like slogging through mud.

This year I recognize that I am better able to do things. Life feels easier. A lot of this is because I've put effort into my mental and spiritual health - though I actually think that they're the same thing.

Figuring out the next thing, my parents are through with surgeries, Lee is over some of his health issues, our adult children are adulting at a developmentally appropriate pace, and we're settling into our new way of life are also making the world feel less mud-like.

Also, my children are now old enough that they do not cycle through sickness every three weeks. That definitely helps.

Learning to be gentle with myself during those harder years, but especially in how I recall those harder years, has been important in things getting easier. Hard Times come and we each do our best.

Beating yourself up for how Hard Times were handled is counter-productive to moving forward. It will just get you stuck.

Recognizing that there are always shiny things hanging around, though, that can be the ticket out. Thinking back on daily walks in years past ,the Hard Times rise up like ghosts from Christmases past. Just as in the Dickens tale, there are lessons I can learn from them.

Perhaps being haunted is a choice we're unaware of.

I think I'm done punishing myself for how we were, when we were, and where we were.

As I walk I feel a lightness in my step that I haven't paid as much attention to. Rounding the corner to our park I'm greeted by our new walking path with every new tree decorated with an ornament.

This is new, because the walking path is new.

There's never been this before, and yet it is familiar. It feels like the Already and Not Yet of Advent, walking around the track. Where do you feel that tension?

I see him, but not now;

I behold him, but not near;

a star shall come out of Jacob,

and a sceptor shall rise out of Israel...

~ Number 24:17

The gray sky, thick with clouds, holds back the bright round star that gives us life. But it is there, pushing through. And it won't stop.

So we won't either, friends.

Light a candle, put something sparkly on your front door, and smile at the stranger.

Be brave, misfits. Do what you can, when you can.

Thanksliving

My parents had their 50th Wedding Anniversary on Tuesday. To celebrate, they did what they always do and spent the day hanging out. Shopping, a movie, and dinner out was good enough for Mom and Dad.

What I love about my parents is their romance and how obvious it is to everyone who knows them. Even Liam recognized it when he was just 9. We went to family counseling and one of his tasks was to select a figurine to represent each family member.

Liam chose a 1950's looking wedding topper 'because Mimi and Grandad are so in love.'

Oh, yeah. I cried.

Mom and Dad met at a party at my aunt's house.

*My Dad filled me in on the fuzzy details: "The First Date was not a party. Julie's brother-in-law asked me if I would go on a blind date. I lived across the street. I said no blind dates but Julie's sister made him come back with a better offer. The drive-in theater and they would buy the beer. After the movie we stayed outside talking until about 3 a.m."

They fell in love on their first date. Seriously. I think they talked about marriage immediately.

Mom was finishing her time in the Air Force while living on base in Shreveport, Louisiana. Dad had recently gotten out of the Navy and was working for a little company called IBM here in Lexington. He drove down on weekends as soon as he got off work.

Twelve hours later he was with my mother. Dad told me he once drove so fast that his tires were beginning to melt. I believe him because he still drives that fast.

They married November 26, 1969. Mom was out of the service in March and moved to Lexington with Dad. They lived on fried hamburgers and cooked apples.

Knowing my parent's history gives me this realization: I come from people who make it work.

Everything in my life makes sense in the light of their history. Of course I say yes to hard things. I come from people who don't believe in the easy way.

I'm thankful for their tenacity. Seriously, coming from people who said yes to Hard Things because they believe that love conquers all has gotten me through some hard @#$%.

Mom and Dad understand that life isn't about being easy. They learned quickly that it's hard. They suffered greatly and still came out on the other side.

Granted, the other side found them quite changed. So you know what they did? They adapted and kept living & loving people anyway.

Also, they kept going out for dates. Ice cream dates, walk around the neighborhood dates, and drives in the country. and just enjoying one another's company. They bickered, of course, too. No marriage can escape that.

At least not a good marriage.

My big take away from my parents marriage is not that they love each other in spite of their individual quirks, but they appear to love each other because of their individual quirks.

Dad might roll his eyes over Mom's ability to be late no matter how early she wakes up, and Mom might cringe over one more project that Dad has going, but they also love each other for those traits. They love the whole package.

Mom and Dad don't say mean things about each other, and they don't hold grudges. They laugh at themselves and don't take life too seriously. They're generally up for doing anything.

Except getting another dog. I think we're all in agreement there.

I love that my parents celebrate so close to Thanksgiving. Partly because it helps me to remember the date, but also because they're all about #thanksliving.

So, Happy Anniversary, Mom and Dad. Sorry it's a week late. I forgot to hit publish when I was done.