Christmases Past

The decorations are packed away and stored in the basement. The wreath is gone from the door and the leftover candy canes look a little silly on the "treat tray" in the kitchen. We are still looking for "Prince Charming's" shoe. By the way, "Cinderella" is naked, so I wonder if that might have something to do with the missing shoe. Yes, Christmas is officially over; Even for us, The Episcopalians. A new season in the church year has begun. We call it, The Epiphany. For me it means moving from celebration to enlightenment. So what could this mean? It means that I miss my children and grand-darlings filling the house with laughter. It means that with all the disfunction in our world, for a sliver of time we found peace.

Those weeks of Advent (the 4 weeks leading up to Christmas) are filled with anticipation as well as preparations. I cook, shop, plan and wrap the gifts. Lists and more lists are made. I pull out the recipes for all the special things reserved for holidays and, yes, make another list. My usual frugality is dismissed and my hedonist self takes over my body and my brain.

Christmas morning arrives, as it always has, no matter the weather, as a bright and shining day filled with love and laughter. My heart swells! The grand-darlings are united in their delight and the children are best buddies as they call-up memories of Christmases past. We sometimes loose a few tears over the ones we've loved and lost and will miss always. This is a quilt, I think, made up of scraps and bits of the present and the past all woven together to spell, family. It is who we are.

Epiphany. What will this year be like? Enlightenment and discovery? Sadness? Loss? New friends? I think that it will be all those things and more. The one certain thing is that time will move on and these days it seems to move even faster than it did when I was a younger person. Change will take place because as my mother used to say, "When things stop changing; You'll be pushing -up poppies!" I'd rather not be pushing- up poppies this year because there is so much more to do! There are more lists to be made and more preparations for the celebrations of family. I am so very blessed.
Happy Epiphany to all and to all a Good Year!

We are sitting on the porch reading the Sunday paper. We do this every week; just somehwere else. Here is where we slow down and listen to "the worms breathing", he says. The house is quiet because our guests have left. The children are not here this year and that makes both of us sad and more than a little wistful. Watching the grandchildren repeat the rituals of this place is what we miss the most. There is a hole in my heart.

It's been a strange time without our family around us; not a ritual I'd like to repeat. This place, our summer home, is lonely without them. No amount of beauty can replace the beauty of family. I can honestly say that I miss even the sand and melted ice cream! The mess of the family stuff is not something we ever anticipate missing, but there it is. Families are messy. Feelings get hurt, wet towels get left all over the place and ice pops melt into puddles on the porch, but we are together and that, my friends is messy.

Today I am going down to the beach. I may need a sweater because here in this place, the sun has come but not yet the warmth. I will gather some stones for my garden at that other place we call home. They will remind me of the time we spent here this summer. I will scatter the stones like we are scattered this year.

Gathering stones from the water is messy business, but not as messy as families can be. I miss the messy family and my heart is a stone in my chest.

Proud to be an American

We spent the night in a nameless ordinary hotel. Sometimes the ordinary is followed by the extraordinary and we are surprised and delighted. This was the case yesterday.

I'd never been to a citizenship ceremony before so I had really no idea what to expect. Our beautiful Luana had studied, made flash cards (besting her friends at American facts), and taken her citizenship test. now the moment had arrived for her to take the oath; to swear her allegiance to the USA. Was she nervous? Did she feel like a traitor to her home? How did her family feel? I was abuzz with the questions and she calmly stated that all was well on all counts. This was right for her and for her budding family. We felt the excitement.

I had shopped for all things American, not easy to find in the middle of February. The local party store offer up sequined tiaras, flags, bandannas, Uncle Sam hats, leis (red, white and blue of course) stars and stripes sunglasses and flag wrapped mints. I bought some of everything! She was delighted, donned the tiara, waved the flags and posed in the parking lot of the USIC building for a pre-ceremony picture.

We moved inside with a sea of what looked like a cross section of the world. Women in flowing Arab garb, dark exotic-looking turbaned men, Asian people of all colors, small laughing children and the rest of us moved through security into a holding room. Everyone had papers to present and a few last minute details to take care of and then they, the almost citizens, were ushered into the ceremony room.

We followed and were seated in a room wrapped in red, white and blue bunting with our flag proudly displayed above every thing else. My throat caught as I looked at our grand-darling quietly taking it all in. She is the perfect mingling of the genes, of course, I am biased. She won't remember the day her mother became a citizen of this great country but we who were there will weave into our family lore like a colorful comforting quilt. Each home country was recognized, 45 in all. All the right things were said by the emcee and then it was oath-taking time. Our son moved into position to record the moment. His father, his brothers and I listened as they spoke their names and promised to defend the United States with all their might. Karaoke-style we sang the "Star Spangled Banner" and said the pledge of Allegiance. The real weeping moment for me was a video of American scenes with background music. I guess it was the music. Lee Greenwood's "Proud to be an American" does it to me every time. I don't know why, but it does. "From the lakes of Minnesota to the hills of Tennessee" is the lyric that pulls at my heartstrings because we are the Hills of Tennessee. Funny. It occurred to me yesterday that my homesickness for those hills for all the years we've been North Carolina transplants, is pale in comparison to those in the room who are so far from their homeland. They, these newly minted Americans, are now our sons and daughters. They come to us from many lands and rich cultures. I wondered about all these new citizens. What were there stories? I wish I'd had the time to ask, but we raced from the room to the parking lot for more pictures and then to a celebration lunch.

That the lunch was a Mexican feast struck me as funny! Maybe it should have been hamburgers or some other American dish, but she wanted Mexican so Mexican it was. I've always joked that she is my most American child. After all, her favorite meal is the Thanksgiving meal. She claims that she dreams about the meal in November for weeks before we actually eat it! We even had it in May as a welcome dinner for her Brazilian family when they came for her wedding. There is nothing like the smell of sage, onions and roasting turkey with the a/c running!

We were not complete yesterday. A few of us were missing, but there is a cake with red, white and blue frosting in the freezer for the next time we are all together. The most important thing she said to me yesterday was to freeze the cake for the next "family" get together. Eat the cake we will. This American family knows how to celebrate.