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.
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