Thursday, January 2, 2020

THE IMPERFECT CHRISTMAS



Christmas is over and the New Year is here.  It went too fast, not just this Christmas but all of them.  The ones when my grandparents were alive and got to our house in time to see me and my brother wake up to Santa.  The one when my husband and I got engaged.  The ones in London with our baby where like the gift of the Magi we each gave the other a long winter scarf.  The one where we were planning that baby's January wedding.  The ones where the grandchildren were all in cat-in-the-hat pajamas.  

Our old analog photos show a young woman in a pink velveteen sheath dress flashing her new engagement ring for the camera, a handsome equally young man by her side.  A couple of years later the analog photos show a bald but happy baby in her infant seat next to the table-sized tree in our London flat.  The best gift.  But not all Christmases have been Instagramable.   More like imperfect Christmases to be exact.  There was the year my volatile aunt threw the dinner rolls across the table at her husband.  Worse, the year my parents drove to our country parsonage separately because they were living apart that winter.  Then the year the baby, the first grandchild, had an undiagnosed ear infection and couldn't be comforted.  And the year (this very year) I finally gave away the winter lace dress left at my house from the January wedding because that marriage is over.  

This is how life is isn't it?  Our Christmases are markers, sometimes marking blessings we'll never forget--the newborn in our arms, the red bicycle under the tree, the elderly parent presiding at table, the whole family together in church.  Sometimes marking a year that for one reason or another we are thankful to have survived. Sometimes a little of both.

As we enter the New Year I'm content with how life is and if your holidays follow a similar pattern I hope that you are too.  All things considered this was a good year.  My gratitude list is long.  I took out my 2020 brand new Prayer Journal this morning to tell God about that. But I bet God already knew.  With thanksgiving, Nina Naomi





  

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