CHRISTMAS FUTURE, CHRISTMAS PAST

I am writing this the morning before Christmas Eve, 2024. Two mornings from now the Christ child will have been born again and that evening the first candle of Hanukkah will be lit.  The candles on the Advent wreath will have given way to the first candle on the menorah.  Christian homes will have red and gold paper strewn about, children over-sugared and cranky, and everyone needing a day of rest.  In Jewish homes, gift-opening may just be beginning. According to the Gospel of John, Jesus celebrated Hanukkah, also known as the Feast of Dedication.  Thus the beliefs of many flourish in their winter celebrations.  

When we were children, our birthdays and Christmases were magical.  Especially when we believed in Santa Clause, but even later as we were off school and there was snow, enough for snowforts and sledding and snowball fights.  We didn't have to shop or plan or cook until later in our lives.  As children, Christmas didn't put us in debt.  At our house, Grandma Giesler brought the ham, or some years hosted a turkey dinner in her dining room.  We cousins were spoiled. 

Years later my mother, by then a grandmother, made Christmas stockings for all of us--red quilted fabric with green rick-rack, trimmed with appliqués, beads and jingle bells.  We draw names, like a secret Santa gift exchange. In this way, she is still part of our celebration.  My Grandma Giesler's lace tablecloth has been our tree skirt for years. 

One year I made Christmas dinner in borrowed electric skillets and served it from the Clubhouse of the apartment complex where we lived.

Now I am third from the oldest in my immediate family.  More Christmases behind than ahead. They are still magical.  Everything about the preparation is magical.  I get to cut the greens from our forest, the berried branches from the holly and fill the vases with fragrant pine. I tell Alexa to "play classical Christmas music."  I wait for gifts to arrive on our stoop.  I go to cheerful, busy grocery stores to shop.  We keep the Advent candles company each Sunday and still send and receive a few Christmas cards in the mail.  Our Jewish friends are almost ready for their holy days to begin.  

And the celebrations will continue.  The shortest week of the year, between Christmas and New Year's, most of us see more family and friends.  Even those who work those days, get an extra day at New Year's.  The nights are still long and dark and give us breathing room.  Don't we always look forward to a new year?  

I hope to someday be remembered as my own grandmothers are, as someone who gave love and special attention, who imparted faith and joy and whom they might wish to emulate.  

Merry Christmas to all.          Nina Naomi

CHRISTMAS IS ALMOST HERE

A quick thought standing at the kitchen sink:  I've almost got a handle on Christmas. A moment of pride. The menu in my head, the gifts mostly under the tree.  I'm not adrift and I'm the one who has to make it happen. I plan, I buy, I cook, I decorate, I wrap, I stack the log rack . I, I, I.

Then minutes later, looking out the window at the red sun behind the trees:  I don't make Christmas happen at all.  Whether I'm stressed or harried, the house a mess, the tree lights tangled, the cookies store-bought, the late arrival of a gift or two, nothing is about me.

Whatever made me think I needed a "handle" on Christmas?  When has that ever mattered? 

We will go to one of the many Christmas Eve services and sing Silent Night, Holy Night by candlelight. The family members who spend Christmas Eve at our house will arrive somewhere near the allotted time.  We will, in fact, have too much food for our small group.

The next day we will unwind, my husband and I and the day after more grandchildren will come.  No one cares if wrapping paper is strewn and the ham or turkey is left-over. Hopefully we will count our many blessings, our OK-to-good health, the warmth of our homes, the love of friends and family.    

Hopefully we will remember that Christmas is not about Santa or jingle bells or how many gifts we give or receive.  We will remember that Christmas is about our faith in the Christ child who was born in a manger to die and be resurrected on Easter Sunday and give us eternal life.  

And you and I will say, "In this we believe."  Lord, let us pray.  AMEN

  
 

THERE'S NOTHING WE CAN'T LOVE

The deer come by tonight at dusk

While I am standing still.

Night falls so early as it must.

I wait for dark until

It catches me by quick surprise,

The sun to sudden drop.

How cold and bright our winter eyes.

I wish that time would stop.

The day, bare trees, December stars, 

The white tail boundless free.

its home is one without false wars.

where I would rather be.

 

On cue I see the geese in flight.

They loudly cross the sky

To give the rising moon a fright.

Whole towns hear them squawk by.

It's darker now and all I feel

Is breath of faun and doe

Beneath the cedars settling in.

The geese are quiet too.

A Silent Night is such release,

To huddle close like deer.

Or wait for morning like the geese,

With nothing frightening near.

It's true there's nothing we can't love

If greed we keep at bay.

If our heart's focus is above

Where saints and angels play.

It helps to see the doe and stag,

The goose and gosling too.

The waxing and the waning moon,

The people called the poor.

 

It helps to know we're not alone, 

That we are creatures sure.   

That what's at stake is life on earth.

 

 

                                                  

                                                 

 

YES, IT'S TIME TO GIVE THANKS

It's that time of year when everything is happening.  Thanksgiving is upon us.  I am thankful the celebration is at my house.  I am thankful that my granddaughter is helping me prepare.  Lots of chopping for the stuffing and the old-fashioned Golden Glow Jello salad from Grandma Edna's recipe box. Setting the table for eight this year, not that many.  I remember when it was more and we used two tables.  Or occasionally just me and my husband, and we travel.  Why not? 

Not that all is good.  One of our dear friends died last week.  You know how hard it is when someone you love dies.  We all know that.  You can't be alive and not know that.  We can't believe how fragile we all are.  We don't quite want life to go on as usual, it seems callous.  "Stop all the clocks...Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come," W. H. Auden wrote.  Then just now we got a call that my husband's college roommate is gravely ill.  I read a beautiful essay in the New York Times today by a woman who lost her teenage daughter Orli.  It hit home.  Tears are defining our week. 

And yet, eight people who are alive and well will be here on Thanksgiving.  We might have prayers, maybe silent, for others who aren't here and not doing so well.  But we will also have much for which to be thankful.  Our family, like yours, is full of love.  Our family, like yours, is coping.  This is the most wonderful of American holidays.  A day devoted entirely to giving thanks.  No other holiday is like that, not Christmas, not Easter, not Hannukah, not our birthdays or 4th of July.  Isn't it something--we don't give presents, we give thanks.  Our religion doesn't matter.  We just gather and enjoy food and each other.  

This year I am again thankful that my husband and I still have one another after so many years, and have not grown tired of our conversations, our playfulness, our needs; that our younger grandson decided to spend his summer with us; that our older grandson is graduating soon; that so much of the family is local and we see them often. 

I know the world is not this easy for many, for those who are the victims of war, for those who are poor, for those in harm's way.  But if that is not you, give thanks.  Give thanks and do for others.  Join the throngs who use Christmas as a giving time.  Live in the spirit of Christ by doing for others as you would have them do unto you.  

And if that is you, or has been you, give thanks anyway.  For what else is useful, helpful, consoling and comforting but to look for your blessings and give thanks?  Not one of us is without blessings.  Not one of us need despair.  Not one of us is not a child of God with the flutter of hope in their heart.  Not one.

Happy Thanksgiving, and the peace that passes all understanding be yours this day and tomorrow.  AMEN

A PRAYER POEM FOR TODAY

Mourning the loss of hope,

Missing those moments of joy,

We shelter in place

As if from a storm.

. . . 

We know that history is long

And tyrants are made of flesh,

That power corrupts but does not last.

. . . 

Hitler is dead.

Mussolini is dead.

Stalin is dead.

Saddam Hussein is dead. 

Judas is dead.

No resurrections there.

. . . 

Only love can defeat hate.

Only light can drive out darkness.

. . .

The fight is long,

The fight is hard,

The fight continues.

God bless the fight. 

"We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope."  Martin Luther King, Jr.

NO, WE'RE NOT FINE

"Democracy is the theory that the common people know what they want, and deserve to get it good and hard" H.L. Mencken, Satirist and Cultural Critic (l8980-1956)

today I was reading a poet who talked about greed and stupidity and hate.

Such everyday things now.

I could write a poem about that, I thought.

I read, I scroll, I listen to the news.

I see who's on deck, who's failing already.

But then I thought, I'll be OK.

The stock market's rising, I'll be OK. 

I have a home, I'll be OK.

I have health insurance, I'll be OK.

The woman who cleans my home, the man who mows my grass, they aren't criminals.

It must be the others that are.

The boy who loads my groceries, he isn't lazy.

It must be the others who are. 

The mothers and their children who shop with me in Food Lion, they're not vermin.

It must be the others who are.

I haven't met anyone who doesn't deserve a hand up, but I must be wrong. 

Anyway, I was born here, I'll be fine.

If I don't care about our country, the world, or the future, 

I'll be just fine.

On second thought, I'm not in the mood to write a poem.  

                               

                                                       Nina Naomi

A DAY FOR HYGGE, DEFINITELY

 "Complete absence of anything annoying or emotionally overwhelming."  This is part of the Danish concept of hygge, the term that captures feelings of coziness, warmth, charm and simplicity.  All things good.  I admit to needing, even longing, for that.  We don't want emotional overwhelm right now.  Our thresholds are low.  Mine is. 

The word comes originally from the Old Norse word hugga, which means to comfort or console, i.e. our word hug.  But in Denmark it's an entire cultural phenomenon and has become so here as well.  Especially in fall and winter, we strive for hygge (pronounced hooga) as we bring out our quilts, sweaters and cozy socks.  In our country, the concept so named became noticeably popular by 2017 when in response the Oxford English Dictionary added it to our vocabulary.  The same year The Little Book of Hygge became a hit.  Community, family, simple quiet times and warm feelings--who wouldn't be enchanted?

What intrigues me is the idea that we can create a spot, a mood, a corner or an evening devoid of the annoying or overwhelming.  That is definitely worth a try.  And since the Danes consistently win the competition for the world's happiest people--despite their long, cold, dark winters--who better to emulate.  

In a prior post I mentioned that we have been sitting by our fire pit in the evening, the one (of two) that got so much use during the pandemic.  While there's no way to remember fondly the fear Covid without a vaccine engendered, we might have fond memories of some of the ways we coped.  For example, we brought out warm throws and sat by the fire pit with friends, chili bubbling in the crockpot under the market lights and candles spread about, their flames flickering into the dark.  Our Maltipoo Wiggles took turns lap-warming.  I knitted hats for Christmas gifts.  It was, despite all, a hygge season.  

And that's where we are now.  Post-election, nursing our wounds, guarding our hearts and Thanksgiving around the corner.  Leaves falling or fallen, wanting very much not to be overwhelmed or anxious.  I love the idea of taking control of our own well-being by snuggling under lap robes by a fire with a warm drink and a book or movie.  I love the idea of herding the kids onto the couch, even though my own kids are grown.  I love, don't you, these early nights with comfort food and soft pajamas?  

Let's think of all the things that make us feel warm, loved, happy and at peace.  Then let's pursue them.  If there's something unpleasant holding forth in your mind, shut it out.  Don't give it space. Not today. Take a mental and emotional break from annoyances or worse and love yourself and each other.  Let fragrances loose everywhere:  vanilla tea, cinnamon cider, apple pie, pumpkin spice lattes, cedar branches mixed with holly.  Add in the family quilt that someone carefully made with generations in mind, knowing it would outlive her.  Find a cuddler--a dog, a child.  Even chickens purr like cats, I've been told.  Pick up your favorite craft and have on music in the background. 

Draw your life in or let it expand, whatever works best for you.  This is not the time for emotional overwhelm.  Let the hygge begin.       Nina Naomi