Let's Decorate the Christmas Tree

The tree went up yesterday. It is over twenty-five years old and surviving gamely. We thank Sears. Granted, it takes a little longer each year to persuade the branches to look tree-like, but then it’s harder each year to make the parts of my body work. I sympathize.

Skip wove the small coloured lights we like through the branches and garlanded the tree in gold and silver. Around the base he wrapped the tree skirt that we have had for over thirty years, a cheap white skirt with stamped pictures; sometimes it’s about the tradition.

The cardboard box with all the balls and inexpensive decorations sits nearby. Today I will pull out the numerous smaller boxes in which I pack our more unusual and expensive ornaments. During the day, we will wander out from our rooms, put up a few ornaments, and wander back in, Skip to play WoW, or check gmail, or Facebook, me to write, or play adventure games, or check mail and Facebook.

I look forward every year to opening each box to see which ornament I have packed away. Old friends all of them. Once they are hung we fill in the gaps with the generic decorations from our local grocery store. As they are all gold, or frosted red, they create a pretty background for the more unique ornaments.

I prewrite posts in my head, often drifting off to sleep that way. I realised that almost every post this season, I start with: There is something magical about…By the time I write the post I have changed the beginning, but I want to write those words. There is something magical about every aspect of Christmas to me. Part of it is that it only happens once a year: that we see the associated items; make the eggnog and cookies; listen to the carols; remember why the season in the first place; and stop for a moment in our lives to think of others.

Peace, as my friend KC would say.

A Wreath for the Door

Skip pulls out the tree today and with it the ratty cardboard box in which we store our eclectic accumulation of decorations for the house and tree. Our main collection of ornaments went into storage several years ago and we have since picked up the odd thing here or there, more with the intent of looking Christmassy, rather than adding to our collection. There are notable exceptions when we have spotted an ornament in our travels, or mom has given us one.

We have silver, gold, and red garlands to drape and intertwine around the house as well as the tree. One small stuffed Santa Claus. We shall have poinsettias and maybe a candle or two. A small pewter tree from my friend Pam. I shall lay our stockings over the banister. And, I have the resin nativity set I bought for our children over thirty years ago: Joseph, Mary, a donkey, and the baby Jesus in a manger. The baby stays in a drawer until Christmas Eve. Doesn't sound like much, all told, but it suffices for now.

But no wreath; just a door decoration. Another two years and I shall be able to look for a lovely wreath to put up every Christmas. I miss wreaths.

Candles

"Out, out, brief candle." I have taught Macbeth for too long when I look at a Christmas candle and that is my first thought.

I am not a fan of candles, although I love the idea of them and the sound of the word: caan-dull. There is weight to the word and elegance. Candles themselves I have always thought of as dust catchers or really good metaphors.

But, I confess, when I walk into my friend and colleague's classroom and smell the cinnamon from the candle she has been burning, I think maybe it might be pleasant...maybe, someday.

The flame, though, the flame I like. I could have a wick floating on oil, a flame dancing on clear liquid. Those are the house fires I like, too, the ones with glass pebbles and flames flickering blue and orange wavering their way up from the glass surface, reflecting off the facets, miniature flames winking beneath the flickers of fire.

Christmas Bells

I heard the bells on Christmas day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet the words repeat
Of peace on earth, good will to men.

And in despair I bowed my head
“There is no peace on earth,” I said,
“For hate is strong and mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good will to men.”

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
“God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The wrong shall fail, the right prevail
With peace on earth, good will to men.”

In 1864, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow added to the wealth of traditional carols. Bells of all sizes and tones carry magic, from the deep-throated bronze bells with their somber, ponderous tolling, to the tinkling silvery bells refreshing as a light rain shower, to the jingle of sleigh bells, perhaps the most magical of all for what they evoke: snow, horse-drawn sleighs, roasted chestnuts, hot chocolate, pine trees, bundling up warmly, and Santa and his reindeer.

The Tree

Our tree goes up this weekend. For a long time here, I haven't felt Christmassy. Not since the kids left. More and more I left the tree to Skip. Part of my climbing out of the pit is a renewed interest in Christmas. Last year I joined in decorating the tree and liked the togetherness of sharing the decorating. We have an extensive and intriguing collection of ornaments and I enjoyed remeeting them. I even found comfort in the routine of repacking them until the next year and now it's here. This Saturday the tree goes up and maybe I can talk Skip into eggnog. Even if I can't yet, there is a packet of hurricane mix on his dresser...the eggnog can wait until school is over and we can give ourselves over to the holiday.

Angels in My Life

On the way home, thinking of my advent calendar and opening the second day, I thought about what image to use for my blog Christmas calendar. I was settling on angels because they begin with "a" when I thought about the real angels in my life.

My husband is the greatest of them all. Without his patience, friendship and love, I would not have had a reason to climb out of the pit. And I would not have grown as much as I have during our many years together.

My children each in his and her way have given me precious gifts. My son gives me friendship, honesty and the time to listen to me. My daughter gives me friendship, strength, and the ability to do things I fear. She too gives me time. My mother who is my friend like no other gives me wisdom, laughter, and time.

My mentor and close friend, Jack Penha gave me the gift of poetry; taught me how to teach; kept me on the right paths when I strayed down tangled ones; and requires nothing of me other than my self.

Then there are former students, like Brandon Weaver, who is the rock in my life, who cherishes me and makes sure I know it, who worries about me and takes time in his full life to check on my wellbeing.

How can I not be thankful this season whefen I realise how much I have in my life.

'Tis the Season

The Christmas season is my favourite. One of the reasons is advent calendars. My mother may be approaching 80, but every summer when I visit, she has a new advent calendar for me for the next Christmas. And I may be in my 50s, but I anticipate the opening of each window with joy.

Part of the fun is waiting to see what she finds for me. Last year it was a traditional calendar similar to the one pictured. This year it is a contemporary setting, of the Washington Cathedral, with traditional symbols in the windows. I even have travel calendars some years, when we spend Christmas in another city. They are 4x6 and come with an envelope to protect them.

For twenty-four days, I shall have something extra to look forward to in my day.