You have likely heard of the Law of Divine Reciprocity: What goes around comes around. Karma. And you may remember that in my most recent blog post, I spoke a bit harshly about the airline industry with its baggage fees, lack of food, and silly security policies. So I have to ask myself, "Could it be karma?"
Let me explain. Shulamith took me to the airport in plenty of time for my 7:30 flight to Denver Tuesday evening. She even parked her car and went in with me because her sweet Mathew was due to arrive back from New York at about the same time my plane took off. Everything seemed normal. My flight was listed as "on time." I made my way to the gate, where the monitor showed my "on time" flight to Denver scheduled to board in 30 minutes. Excellent.
Those 30 minutes came and went. And though the monitor still listed the flight as "on time," there wasn't an agent to be seen. Along with several others awaiting the flight, I began to worry. Then I tried to reassure myself. I had a 90-minute layover in Denver, so I should be okay, right?
Wrong.
Minutes passed. Finally, an agent arrived to inform us that our plane was on its way and should arrive in 15 minutes, and they would "turn it around" just as quickly as possible. Okay, fine. Those 15 minutes turned into 30, and the quick "turn it around" was anything but quick. By the time we were off the ground, it was a full hour later than our scheduled departure. This would give me at best only 30 minutes in Denver. Now I was scared. You see, Wednesday was the first day of my new semester at school. I had classes at 8:00, 9:10, and 11:30 a.m. I had to get to Billings.
You may have noticed that I'm not very good at accepting what I can't control. "Flexible" is NOT my middle name. Or my first name. Or my last name. Not sure it's even part of my vocabulary. Any attempt at relaxation during the flight was utterly futile because surely if I worried enough, my anxiety would make the plane fly faster. It was not a pleasant ride. Now you'd think that once we touched down in Denver, I could push my way off that plane and begin my marathon sprint through the "B" concourse from gates B88 to B37 where the plane to Billings would depart.
Nope, wrong again. Because of the fees to check baggage (see earlier post), most of us frequent fliers, myself included, do not check our bags. Instead, we take the biggest bag that qualifies as a "carry on," only these bags don't actually fit on the smaller commuter jets, and must be checked plane side and retrieved at the top of the jet way. So, as I considered that my plane to Billings might be pushing back at any second, I was forced to wait...and wait...and wait...and wait at the top of the jet way for my suitcase. Grrrrr.
Once the bag was retrieved, I made the familiar dash through the airport hoping against all hope that maybe my flight was delayed. If these people only knew that my classes started the following morning, surely they would wait! Wrong again. Panting breathlessly, I arrived at Gate B37 to find no one in sight. My flight was gone. The very last flight to Billings that night was gone. Fighting back tears, I called Gerald briefly to tell him, but of course he already knew because he is our family's would-be travel agent, who tracks every single detail of our flights whenever anyone travels. Had I called him as soon as I had my suitcase, I'm pretty sure he could have told me it was hopeless, but well, in desperation I really needed to make the run for it. Just in case. Just to know I did all I could.
Next, I called two colleagues from my school. I left voice mail for the first, and luckily, the second picked up. It was nearly 10:00 p.m. Once I related my tale of woe and explained that under no circumstances would I be in Billings for my first two classes the next day, she graciously admonished me to "Be safe." Barb, you cannot know what that simple phrase of kindness meant to me in that moment. I was crying yet again.
The next order of business was to make my way to the Customer Service desk where the line was thick and deep and turned out to be 90 minutes long. I was familiar with that line because Lindsey and I stood in it over a year ago with little Emma on our way to visit Celeste, when our delayed flight out of Billings caused us to miss our connection in Denver. But that's another story. At some point during the wait, a United Customer Service Rep. told us that if we were on the flight from Salt Lake City, we would receive hotel and food vouchers because the issue causing the delay was mechanical. I know I should have been thankful, but really, all I could think about was missing the first day of the semester and my students who would show up at 8:00 the next morning to find no teacher.
Vouchers in hand, I headed to Burger King, the only restaurant open that late. Others in my same situation joined me for a late dinner, and we all headed out into the bitter cold (-12 with wind chill) together to wait for the hotel shuttle. It arrived about 20 freezing minutes later and took us on the 30-minute jaunt to the Holiday Inn. Then there was yet another line to check in. Finally, at nearly 1:00 a.m., I was in my hotel room, a quite luxurious one at that. Problem is, I could hardly enjoy it since I needed to catch the 6:30 a.m. shuttle back to the airport the following morning. Fearing I would miss that shuttle, I barely slept.
The rest of the journey was beautifully uneventful. I arrived back in Billings in time to teach my 11:30 class. I wanted to say to my students: "If it looks like I slept in these clothes, it's because I did!" I don't pack clothes when I visit Shulamith because it's easier to just wear hers. Oh, and I don't pack make-up or hair products either because I can just use hers. If you'd like to imagine what I looked like that morning when I met my 11:30 class for the first time, I can assure you it's much worse that anything you are thinking.
Could it be karma? I don't know. But I'm pretty sure I won't be dissing the air travel industry again any time soon.
Friday, January 14, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
Monday, January 10, 2011
As I type, I'm listening to Shulamith's student teacher, Michelle, do the calendar with her kindergarten class. I just learned that today is Monday, January 10, 2011. Wow! My last blog post was Monday, December 27th, a whole two weeks ago. Where did those days disappear to? I spent most of them immersed in post-Christmas relaxation: sleeping late in the morning, enjoying the calm of a quiet home, reading, watching "Prison Break," and doing little productive. It was fabulous really. Then about a week ago, I experienced a bit of an emotional fog. Let's see...how can I describe it? You know how sometimes it feels like you are walking through water? No matter how hard you try, you can only move in slow motion, trudging along as the rest of the world races past you at normal speed? Yeah, that's how it was. For about 48 hours. Perhaps that would still be going on, except this past Thursday I boarded a plane bound for Salt Lake City to spend six days with Shulamith while Matt is in New York.
Nothing like air travel to lift you out of the fog (figuratively AND literally!) and bring you back to the normal rush of life. As I made my way through airport security, it occurred to me how much has changed in the past ten years. It used to be that friends and family could accompany travelers through security, wait with them for their flights, and then say goodbye as they boarded the airplane. At the other end of the flight, others could be waiting at the gate, which made for some wonderfully romantic reunions. I remember the year Gerald and I were engaged. I went to Niagara Falls to visit my dad's relatives over spring break, and Gerald went to Alabama to visit his sister. When I landed back in Portland (nearest airport to Hermiston), we did one of those classic runs through the airport, falling into each other's arms.
No more.
These scenes have gone by the wayside, right along with in-flight meals and free checked baggage. Now we literally "lug" our luggage through the airport because we don't care to pay the ridiculous fees to check it. Clumsily, we lug it through security, as we put our liquids and gels into small ziplock bags, remove our shoes, and subject ourselves to embarrassing body scans. I'd be more sympathetic to all this fanfare if, in doing so, I felt one iota safer on the airplane. I don't. Regardless, I jump through the hoops along with everyone else because I have no choice. I need to fly, often, just about every month it seems.
We are now starting the fifth day of our six together. Tomorrow night I'll once again maneuver through the hassle of airport security and board a plane back to Billings. But we won't talk about that now. We still have two fun-filled days ahead. In the past four we have eaten lots of delicious food; found some excellent post-Christmas sales; watched one good movie (Hereafter); finished Season 3 of "Prison Break"; and spent a glorious morning with Matt's mom at the temple, followed by lunch at Olive Garden (Thank you, Dawn!).
And now, I'm learning so much from Michelle's calendar lesson. Not only do I know what day it is, but I also learned that yesterday was Sunday, and that tomorrow will be Tuesday. And I learned that this is the 74th day of school, which (by the way) is seven bundles of ten sticks plus four sticks by themselves. And I learned that it is snowing outside, and it is cold!
I'm not sure if ALL I really need to know I learned in Kindergarten. But I definitely learned a lot.
Nothing like air travel to lift you out of the fog (figuratively AND literally!) and bring you back to the normal rush of life. As I made my way through airport security, it occurred to me how much has changed in the past ten years. It used to be that friends and family could accompany travelers through security, wait with them for their flights, and then say goodbye as they boarded the airplane. At the other end of the flight, others could be waiting at the gate, which made for some wonderfully romantic reunions. I remember the year Gerald and I were engaged. I went to Niagara Falls to visit my dad's relatives over spring break, and Gerald went to Alabama to visit his sister. When I landed back in Portland (nearest airport to Hermiston), we did one of those classic runs through the airport, falling into each other's arms.
No more.
These scenes have gone by the wayside, right along with in-flight meals and free checked baggage. Now we literally "lug" our luggage through the airport because we don't care to pay the ridiculous fees to check it. Clumsily, we lug it through security, as we put our liquids and gels into small ziplock bags, remove our shoes, and subject ourselves to embarrassing body scans. I'd be more sympathetic to all this fanfare if, in doing so, I felt one iota safer on the airplane. I don't. Regardless, I jump through the hoops along with everyone else because I have no choice. I need to fly, often, just about every month it seems.
We are now starting the fifth day of our six together. Tomorrow night I'll once again maneuver through the hassle of airport security and board a plane back to Billings. But we won't talk about that now. We still have two fun-filled days ahead. In the past four we have eaten lots of delicious food; found some excellent post-Christmas sales; watched one good movie (Hereafter); finished Season 3 of "Prison Break"; and spent a glorious morning with Matt's mom at the temple, followed by lunch at Olive Garden (Thank you, Dawn!).
And now, I'm learning so much from Michelle's calendar lesson. Not only do I know what day it is, but I also learned that yesterday was Sunday, and that tomorrow will be Tuesday. And I learned that this is the 74th day of school, which (by the way) is seven bundles of ten sticks plus four sticks by themselves. And I learned that it is snowing outside, and it is cold!
I'm not sure if ALL I really need to know I learned in Kindergarten. But I definitely learned a lot.
Monday, December 27, 2010
There's Nothing as "Over" as Christmas
My friend Patty tells me her sweet mother always said, "There's nothing as "over" as Christmas.
How true.
I so vividly remember the first weekend I began shopping and wrapping this year. It was still a couple weeks before Thanksgiving, and I put on some lovely Christmas music (I believe it was Josh Groban). For me, the season had begun! Even my kids complained, "Mom, it's still November!" I didn't care. It's my absolute favorite time of year, and I wasn't about to wrap Christmas presents without Christmas music. I attributed my early start to the fact that we had three new people join our family this year, a nearly 50% increase. I would certainly need more time.
As November faded and December arrived, I was already in full swing. The tree was up. The house was decorated. The lists were made. The shopping was under way. As the days flew by, one after the other, and I watched Seth move the mouse in our Christmas countdown calendar, I was okay until the mouse reached the final row beginning with December 20th. At that point, I began to feel much like the Grinch. "I've got to stop Christmas from coming!" I thought. Not because I don't like it. Not because my heart is two sizes too small like the Grinch's (at least I hope not), but because as Patty's mother so eloquently points out:
There's nothing as "over" as Christmas.
And I didn't want it to be over. I wanted to slow down time those final few days in order to stretch out the joy just a little longer. What if we simply didn't move the mouse? Would that work? Obviously not.
Christmas came and went. Just like that. It was lovely, by the way. We had a houseful of people most of the week, constant coming and going, the normal last-minute shopping, plenty of cooking and eating with no regard for calories or fat grams. Still, in all the bustle, some quiet moments found their way. On Christmas Eve, before opening our traditional one gift each, Gerald and I read aloud the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke, and Mathew offered a prayer of thanksgiving for the gift of the Savior and for the blessings of family. It was quiet for just a moment, even with all ten of us in the same room. Christmas morning, we waited with anxious delight for Seth to ascend the stairs and find his "Santa" gifts, an electric scooter and a new fish to replace Orange-head, who died a couple weeks ago.
And then, as quickly as it came, it was over. Early this morning, Shulamith and Matt got into their car to begin the long drive back to Utah. This afternoon, Désirée and Luke and Evelyn boarded an airplane bound for Texas. We get to keep Isaiah for another week, thanks heavens! Tomorrow, I will take down the mouse calendar, along with the tree and other decorations and pack them safely away for another year. I will try not to cry. Isaiah is still here. And Lindsey is in town this week as well. Both these things will help tremendously. I will try hard not to cry.
Generally speaking, January is my very least favorite month. It's still so cold, but Christmas is over. It's much easier to tolerate the bitter cold when Christmas is coming. I find myself thinking about the curse of the witch in Narnia, which made it always winter but never Christmas. How wretched! January feels so long. This year, however, I get to go to Utah and spend six days with Shulamith while Matt is in New York. I'm thinking January won't be so bad after all.
There's nothing as "over" as Christmas, and yet, the new year is rich with opportunity. Who knows what is in store for each of us. Two thousand ten brought us two weddings and three new family members. I doubt 2011 can measure up to that, but you never know.
How true.
I so vividly remember the first weekend I began shopping and wrapping this year. It was still a couple weeks before Thanksgiving, and I put on some lovely Christmas music (I believe it was Josh Groban). For me, the season had begun! Even my kids complained, "Mom, it's still November!" I didn't care. It's my absolute favorite time of year, and I wasn't about to wrap Christmas presents without Christmas music. I attributed my early start to the fact that we had three new people join our family this year, a nearly 50% increase. I would certainly need more time.
As November faded and December arrived, I was already in full swing. The tree was up. The house was decorated. The lists were made. The shopping was under way. As the days flew by, one after the other, and I watched Seth move the mouse in our Christmas countdown calendar, I was okay until the mouse reached the final row beginning with December 20th. At that point, I began to feel much like the Grinch. "I've got to stop Christmas from coming!" I thought. Not because I don't like it. Not because my heart is two sizes too small like the Grinch's (at least I hope not), but because as Patty's mother so eloquently points out:
There's nothing as "over" as Christmas.
And I didn't want it to be over. I wanted to slow down time those final few days in order to stretch out the joy just a little longer. What if we simply didn't move the mouse? Would that work? Obviously not.
Christmas came and went. Just like that. It was lovely, by the way. We had a houseful of people most of the week, constant coming and going, the normal last-minute shopping, plenty of cooking and eating with no regard for calories or fat grams. Still, in all the bustle, some quiet moments found their way. On Christmas Eve, before opening our traditional one gift each, Gerald and I read aloud the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke, and Mathew offered a prayer of thanksgiving for the gift of the Savior and for the blessings of family. It was quiet for just a moment, even with all ten of us in the same room. Christmas morning, we waited with anxious delight for Seth to ascend the stairs and find his "Santa" gifts, an electric scooter and a new fish to replace Orange-head, who died a couple weeks ago.
And then, as quickly as it came, it was over. Early this morning, Shulamith and Matt got into their car to begin the long drive back to Utah. This afternoon, Désirée and Luke and Evelyn boarded an airplane bound for Texas. We get to keep Isaiah for another week, thanks heavens! Tomorrow, I will take down the mouse calendar, along with the tree and other decorations and pack them safely away for another year. I will try not to cry. Isaiah is still here. And Lindsey is in town this week as well. Both these things will help tremendously. I will try hard not to cry.
Generally speaking, January is my very least favorite month. It's still so cold, but Christmas is over. It's much easier to tolerate the bitter cold when Christmas is coming. I find myself thinking about the curse of the witch in Narnia, which made it always winter but never Christmas. How wretched! January feels so long. This year, however, I get to go to Utah and spend six days with Shulamith while Matt is in New York. I'm thinking January won't be so bad after all.
There's nothing as "over" as Christmas, and yet, the new year is rich with opportunity. Who knows what is in store for each of us. Two thousand ten brought us two weddings and three new family members. I doubt 2011 can measure up to that, but you never know.
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Christmas Is Still Wonderful As Long As You're in Love
Once upon a time in a park on a swing way back in December 2009, a dashing young man proposed marriage to a beautiful young girl. That was a whole year ago. About six weeks later, they were married.
Since then, they have lived the first ten months of "happily ever after," but they had one regret. They wanted to get a picture in the park where they got engaged. As the anniversary of their engagement approached, the young man had an idea. What if they went back to that swing and took a mom with them to take a picture. This idea grew into another wonderful surprise.
So the young man and his beautiful bride, along with her mom, set out for the park. It was very cold, and they had to climb over mounds of snow just to reach the correct swing. The girl sat down on the cold swing, and the young man knelt down in the snow as if to simulate last year's proposal, only this time, he pulled out a box with yet another ring, a stunning blue topaz set in silver. He asked her to stay married to him forever. It was very romantic! The girl was overcome with surprise, and the mom (who was in on the secret all along) photographed the whole event.
Overcome with excitement, the girl shoved the ring onto her right ring finger because, of course, she wears her wedding ring on her left hand. Everything seemed perfect...at least for a while. But then..
A crisis occurred. Oh no! (Warning: if you only like happy stories, you should stop reading now. Remember, you were warned!)
The young man went home to play videogames with the girl's brothers, and the girl and her mom headed out to shop for Christmas groceries. With loaded shopping carts, they proceeded to the check-out when the girl attempted to remove the ring. It wouldn't budge. Not at all. Apparently, her right ring finger is slightly larger than her left. The finger had swollen up below the ring, and the harder she pulled, the more swollen it became. They arrived home and tried every online technique to remove rings: she elevated her hand above her heart for an hour. The young man iced her finger and applied cream, oil, and butter. He even tried wrapping dental floss around her finger to make it small enough to pull off the ring.
Nothing worked.
By now it was11:00 p.m., and it was obvious we would need to find someone to cut off the ring. The girl was very sad. Her beautiful new ring would need to be cut off her finger. We called the fire department, and the nice firefighters told us to come right over. Even they tried to remove the ring without cutting it, but to no avail. They used their "ring cutter" and cut off the ring.
I'm trying to find a way to make this story end happily. What can I say? That the ring can be repaired once they get back to Utah where the young man bought it? Indeed, it can! That Christmas is still wonderful even when slightly unfortunate things happen? Indeed, it is. Most importantly, that the young man and his bride are still madly in love despite this incident? Indeed, they are!
Since then, they have lived the first ten months of "happily ever after," but they had one regret. They wanted to get a picture in the park where they got engaged. As the anniversary of their engagement approached, the young man had an idea. What if they went back to that swing and took a mom with them to take a picture. This idea grew into another wonderful surprise.
So the young man and his beautiful bride, along with her mom, set out for the park. It was very cold, and they had to climb over mounds of snow just to reach the correct swing. The girl sat down on the cold swing, and the young man knelt down in the snow as if to simulate last year's proposal, only this time, he pulled out a box with yet another ring, a stunning blue topaz set in silver. He asked her to stay married to him forever. It was very romantic! The girl was overcome with surprise, and the mom (who was in on the secret all along) photographed the whole event.
Overcome with excitement, the girl shoved the ring onto her right ring finger because, of course, she wears her wedding ring on her left hand. Everything seemed perfect...at least for a while. But then..A crisis occurred. Oh no! (Warning: if you only like happy stories, you should stop reading now. Remember, you were warned!)
The young man went home to play videogames with the girl's brothers, and the girl and her mom headed out to shop for Christmas groceries. With loaded shopping carts, they proceeded to the check-out when the girl attempted to remove the ring. It wouldn't budge. Not at all. Apparently, her right ring finger is slightly larger than her left. The finger had swollen up below the ring, and the harder she pulled, the more swollen it became. They arrived home and tried every online technique to remove rings: she elevated her hand above her heart for an hour. The young man iced her finger and applied cream, oil, and butter. He even tried wrapping dental floss around her finger to make it small enough to pull off the ring.Nothing worked.
By now it was11:00 p.m., and it was obvious we would need to find someone to cut off the ring. The girl was very sad. Her beautiful new ring would need to be cut off her finger. We called the fire department, and the nice firefighters told us to come right over. Even they tried to remove the ring without cutting it, but to no avail. They used their "ring cutter" and cut off the ring.I'm trying to find a way to make this story end happily. What can I say? That the ring can be repaired once they get back to Utah where the young man bought it? Indeed, it can! That Christmas is still wonderful even when slightly unfortunate things happen? Indeed, it is. Most importantly, that the young man and his bride are still madly in love despite this incident? Indeed, they are!
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Seth, Loose Teeth, and Safe Airplane Travel
Everyone loves to hear children around age six or seven sing the song "All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth." If visits from the tooth fairy aren't exciting enough, visits from the tooth fairy around Christmas time must be the epitome of excitement for young children. Seth, at the mature age of ten, is obviously past that point; however, he's at another milestone in the ongoing process of replacing "baby" teeth with permanent ones. When kids get to be ten or eleven, it seems like every baby tooth they have left in their mouths becomes loose, all at the same time. I distinctly remember this situation with Luke. Nervous mom that I was (am?), I couldn't imagine it was normal for one kid to have that many loose teeth at the same time. Panicked, I called the dentist, who graciously reassured me that children are supposed to lose their teeth. I knew that. But all at once?!? Apparently so. Luke's situation was perfectly normal, and it's the exact situation in which Seth finds himself now.
As he was pointing out to me all these teeth at varying degrees of looseness and speculating about how much money he might receive, I casually mentioned that the tooth fairy is likely very busy in December, what with Christmas and all. Okay, okay, so why would the tooth fairy be any busier around Christmas than at any other time? I don't know. Trust me, it sounded good when I said it. Poor Seth had to wait three weeks last time he lost a tooth. There's something about being the fifth child in the family that causes that tooth fairy to be awfully slow and forgetful. I just wanted him to be prepared. His response: "If I don't get lots and lots of money for all these loose teeth, I want nothing more to do with the tooth fairy!"
Did you hear that, Tooth Fairy? The kid is serious.
This entire conversation occurred as we flew between Indiana and Denver this afternoon. Next topic: the safety of air travel. Upon descending into Denver, we experienced a bit of turbulence, not a lot and not bad, but a little. Seth hasn't flown that much, so the turbulence caused him some concern.
Seth: What if this plane crashes?
Me: The plane is not going to crash. You don't have to worry.
Seth: But what if it does?
Me: Seth, if I thought there was any reasonable chance at all that this plane would crash, I would not take you on it. Because you are very important.
Seth: No Mom, you are more important than me.
Me: Seth, that is just not true.
Seth: Mom! Yes, it is. I am just a kid, but you are the mother of five children. If I die, you still have four left. But if you die, none of us would have a mother. You are much more important.
Oh, my precious baby boy! Your logic is lovely, but in this case, you couldn't be more wrong.
Wishing everyone plenty of loose teeth followed by regular visits from the tooth fairy, and safe holiday travel, whether by plane or otherwise.
As he was pointing out to me all these teeth at varying degrees of looseness and speculating about how much money he might receive, I casually mentioned that the tooth fairy is likely very busy in December, what with Christmas and all. Okay, okay, so why would the tooth fairy be any busier around Christmas than at any other time? I don't know. Trust me, it sounded good when I said it. Poor Seth had to wait three weeks last time he lost a tooth. There's something about being the fifth child in the family that causes that tooth fairy to be awfully slow and forgetful. I just wanted him to be prepared. His response: "If I don't get lots and lots of money for all these loose teeth, I want nothing more to do with the tooth fairy!"
Did you hear that, Tooth Fairy? The kid is serious.
This entire conversation occurred as we flew between Indiana and Denver this afternoon. Next topic: the safety of air travel. Upon descending into Denver, we experienced a bit of turbulence, not a lot and not bad, but a little. Seth hasn't flown that much, so the turbulence caused him some concern.
Seth: What if this plane crashes?
Me: The plane is not going to crash. You don't have to worry.
Seth: But what if it does?
Me: Seth, if I thought there was any reasonable chance at all that this plane would crash, I would not take you on it. Because you are very important.
Seth: No Mom, you are more important than me.
Me: Seth, that is just not true.
Seth: Mom! Yes, it is. I am just a kid, but you are the mother of five children. If I die, you still have four left. But if you die, none of us would have a mother. You are much more important.
Oh, my precious baby boy! Your logic is lovely, but in this case, you couldn't be more wrong.
Wishing everyone plenty of loose teeth followed by regular visits from the tooth fairy, and safe holiday travel, whether by plane or otherwise.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
A Weary World Rejoices
I dearly love the Christmas season. The words from the familiar carol "It's the most wonderful time of the year" don't begin to express how I feel about it. I love every part of Christmas, and I am not alone. Something about this season brings out the best in folks. We smile more. We think of our neighbors instead of ourselves. We cut each other a little more slack. We're more tolerant. We're kinder.
Those of us who are Christians attribute this to our feelings about the Savior and our desire to celebrate His miraculous birth. But even those with no religious faith are affected by this magical time of year. My father, for example, was not religious. I don't even know if he believed in God. He might have, but I can't be sure. He had no use whatsoever for organized religion. However, he was a good man, a good man who became better at Christmas. I have fond memories of shopping with him for gifts for my mom when I was a little girl. We would pass by the Salvation Army bell ringers, and he would always donate whatever spare cash he had. "Why do you give them your money," I asked. He told me about the good work of the folks at the Salvation Army. He said when he and his co-workers were fighting fires in the middle of cold winter nights, Salvation Army workers would be there with hot coffee and sandwiches for the fire fighters. "Never pass by one of those bell ringers without donating," he instructed me. And I don't. To this day, I can't walk by a Salvation Army bell ringer without digging for all the change in my purse.
Historians tell us that the Savior was likely born in the spring. Nevertheless, we unite with Christians worldwide to celebrate his birth in the deepest, darkest month of December; at least in this hemisphere it's deep and dark, and that is my only reference point. I find much symbolism connected to this time of year. With short days, long nights, and freezing temperatures, what causes us to rejoice with such gladness in this season? Certainly not the weather in Billings, Montana! I haven't been warm since October. And no, I don't enjoy slipping around on frozen roads every time I try to walk or drive anywhere. Yet, we celebrate.
Out of the darkness, comes the light. Out of the cold, comes the warmth. Out of the pain and suffering, comes the one "Risen with healing in His wings."
Rejoice in this unique time of year. Smile an extra smile. Pardon the driver who cuts you off in traffic. Give one more hug to your children as they head off to school. Drop some change in the Salvation Army bell ringer's kettle. Love fully.
"Hark now hear the angels sing
A new king born today.
And we will live forever more
Because of Christmas Day."
Those of us who are Christians attribute this to our feelings about the Savior and our desire to celebrate His miraculous birth. But even those with no religious faith are affected by this magical time of year. My father, for example, was not religious. I don't even know if he believed in God. He might have, but I can't be sure. He had no use whatsoever for organized religion. However, he was a good man, a good man who became better at Christmas. I have fond memories of shopping with him for gifts for my mom when I was a little girl. We would pass by the Salvation Army bell ringers, and he would always donate whatever spare cash he had. "Why do you give them your money," I asked. He told me about the good work of the folks at the Salvation Army. He said when he and his co-workers were fighting fires in the middle of cold winter nights, Salvation Army workers would be there with hot coffee and sandwiches for the fire fighters. "Never pass by one of those bell ringers without donating," he instructed me. And I don't. To this day, I can't walk by a Salvation Army bell ringer without digging for all the change in my purse.
Historians tell us that the Savior was likely born in the spring. Nevertheless, we unite with Christians worldwide to celebrate his birth in the deepest, darkest month of December; at least in this hemisphere it's deep and dark, and that is my only reference point. I find much symbolism connected to this time of year. With short days, long nights, and freezing temperatures, what causes us to rejoice with such gladness in this season? Certainly not the weather in Billings, Montana! I haven't been warm since October. And no, I don't enjoy slipping around on frozen roads every time I try to walk or drive anywhere. Yet, we celebrate.
Out of the darkness, comes the light. Out of the cold, comes the warmth. Out of the pain and suffering, comes the one "Risen with healing in His wings."
Rejoice in this unique time of year. Smile an extra smile. Pardon the driver who cuts you off in traffic. Give one more hug to your children as they head off to school. Drop some change in the Salvation Army bell ringer's kettle. Love fully.
"Hark now hear the angels sing
A new king born today.
And we will live forever more
Because of Christmas Day."
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Remembering Gifts
In this season of gift-giving, it is natural to think about the many gifts in our lives. We remember the excitement of special Christmas gifts from childhood. The earliest one I remember is a doll called "Baby First Step." I wanted her more than anything, and I remember running down the stairs on Christmas morning to find her 'walking' across the living room to greet me. Santa had remembered. As time went on, dolls were replaced by make-up, jewelry and clothes. I remember getting a flower pot that blossomed with an array of different colored lipsticks. I felt so grown up. (Yes, there was a time when I actually longed to be older).
As a parent, I remember the joy of so many magical Christmas mornings; nothing is sweeter than the delight in our children's faces when they are caught entirely by surprise. One such Christmas, we surprised Luke and Shulamith with a trip. We were to leave only a few hours after opening our gifts. As they opened various travel items, one by one, they were first curious, then baffled, then hesitant, and ultimately stunned that we were really boarding an airplane later that day, bound for Disneyland. What fun! Then there was the year we gave 8-year-old Eli his own Desert Tortoise. He stood over the tank, speechless, his jaw dropped and his mouth wide open. It was priceless. Almost as priceless as the year Isaiah got his first hand-held video-game console, the Nintendo Game Boy Color. W00t!
This year, as always, I've thoroughly enjoyed shopping for my children. I've also reflected on other gifts such as the love of family and the atonement of the Savior, those gifts that are more important than tangible items. In addition, especially these past few days, I've contemplated the gift of friendship and its significance in my life. I've written many times in this blog about my two closest friends, Lindsey and Celeste. You can read about them here. And here. You can even see their pretty pictures. But as you know, neither of them lives in Billings anymore.
When Celeste moved to San Antonio 2-1/2 years ago, I cried hard. When Lindsey moved to Rexburg last summer, I cried harder. Because then they were both gone. My two best friends. I felt terribly alone. To clarify, it's not that I don't know other people. I do. I am acquainted with many lovely folks from around my life: from school, from church, from book group, from Seth's activities. But they are not "close friends," you know, the kind you can call at the last minute to watch your child, or the kind you can spend hours with just talking because you never run out of things to say. Or the kind you can trust with your whole soul because you know they would never betray you. I didn't have any of those friends left....
Except for one. Her name is Mandy. And I'm pretty sure Mandy curses the days my other two friends left town, because she, single-handedly, has been left with the burden of being my only close friend in Billings. And let me tell you, it hasn't been an easy job. Every time I need a favor, I call Mandy. Why? Because I truly can't think of anyone else to call. Why do I need so many favors? I'm not sure. Lately, it seems like I can't handle life on my own. Let me give you a few examples.
1. I needed a place to ship my Christmas packages, so my family wouldn't inadvertently receive them and discover their Christmas presents. Mandy, could I please have my packages shipped to your house? Of course!
2. I needed a baby-sitter for Seth's stupid goldfish, Mr. Orange-head Fisher, when we went to Utah for Thanksgiving. He won this thing two months ago at Saturday Live. Honestly, what goldfish lives for two whole months? I thought the one thing goldfish knew how to do was die. But no, Mr. Fisher is still swimming around alive and well. Mandy, could you please keep this fish at your house for five days and feed him while we're in Utah? Of course!
3. I needed someone to push my car out of the snow in front of Mandy's house after a fun evening together. Mandy, I'm stuck! Can you come outside in the freezing cold and help me push my car out of the snow? Of course!
4. I need someone to come take a family snapshot to send with our Christmas cards once Shulamith, Mathew, Isaiah, Luke, Desiree, and Evelyn arrive on Tuesday the 20th. Mandy, I'm sure you have nothing better to do four days before Christmas, so could you come over and take a picture of all of us? Of course!
What next??? I don't know. But if I were Mandy, I'd be hiding in my house, screening my phone calls.
Gifts. I am thankful for all of them, the magical memories from childhood; the joy on my own children's faces years later; and especially--the gift of my close friends, the two who have moved away, and the one who is still here.
Remembering Gifts.
As a parent, I remember the joy of so many magical Christmas mornings; nothing is sweeter than the delight in our children's faces when they are caught entirely by surprise. One such Christmas, we surprised Luke and Shulamith with a trip. We were to leave only a few hours after opening our gifts. As they opened various travel items, one by one, they were first curious, then baffled, then hesitant, and ultimately stunned that we were really boarding an airplane later that day, bound for Disneyland. What fun! Then there was the year we gave 8-year-old Eli his own Desert Tortoise. He stood over the tank, speechless, his jaw dropped and his mouth wide open. It was priceless. Almost as priceless as the year Isaiah got his first hand-held video-game console, the Nintendo Game Boy Color. W00t!
This year, as always, I've thoroughly enjoyed shopping for my children. I've also reflected on other gifts such as the love of family and the atonement of the Savior, those gifts that are more important than tangible items. In addition, especially these past few days, I've contemplated the gift of friendship and its significance in my life. I've written many times in this blog about my two closest friends, Lindsey and Celeste. You can read about them here. And here. You can even see their pretty pictures. But as you know, neither of them lives in Billings anymore.
When Celeste moved to San Antonio 2-1/2 years ago, I cried hard. When Lindsey moved to Rexburg last summer, I cried harder. Because then they were both gone. My two best friends. I felt terribly alone. To clarify, it's not that I don't know other people. I do. I am acquainted with many lovely folks from around my life: from school, from church, from book group, from Seth's activities. But they are not "close friends," you know, the kind you can call at the last minute to watch your child, or the kind you can spend hours with just talking because you never run out of things to say. Or the kind you can trust with your whole soul because you know they would never betray you. I didn't have any of those friends left....
Except for one. Her name is Mandy. And I'm pretty sure Mandy curses the days my other two friends left town, because she, single-handedly, has been left with the burden of being my only close friend in Billings. And let me tell you, it hasn't been an easy job. Every time I need a favor, I call Mandy. Why? Because I truly can't think of anyone else to call. Why do I need so many favors? I'm not sure. Lately, it seems like I can't handle life on my own. Let me give you a few examples.
1. I needed a place to ship my Christmas packages, so my family wouldn't inadvertently receive them and discover their Christmas presents. Mandy, could I please have my packages shipped to your house? Of course!
2. I needed a baby-sitter for Seth's stupid goldfish, Mr. Orange-head Fisher, when we went to Utah for Thanksgiving. He won this thing two months ago at Saturday Live. Honestly, what goldfish lives for two whole months? I thought the one thing goldfish knew how to do was die. But no, Mr. Fisher is still swimming around alive and well. Mandy, could you please keep this fish at your house for five days and feed him while we're in Utah? Of course!
3. I needed someone to push my car out of the snow in front of Mandy's house after a fun evening together. Mandy, I'm stuck! Can you come outside in the freezing cold and help me push my car out of the snow? Of course!
4. I need someone to come take a family snapshot to send with our Christmas cards once Shulamith, Mathew, Isaiah, Luke, Desiree, and Evelyn arrive on Tuesday the 20th. Mandy, I'm sure you have nothing better to do four days before Christmas, so could you come over and take a picture of all of us? Of course!
What next??? I don't know. But if I were Mandy, I'd be hiding in my house, screening my phone calls.
Gifts. I am thankful for all of them, the magical memories from childhood; the joy on my own children's faces years later; and especially--the gift of my close friends, the two who have moved away, and the one who is still here.
Remembering Gifts.
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