“The piano is
not firewood yet, but the cold does get cold, so it soon might be that. I’ll
take it apart, call up my friends and we’ll warm up our hands by the fire…” –
Regina Spektor lyrics, “Firewood”
Christmas is less than two weeks away and the Winter
Solstice is on Dec. 21. Getting past the shortest day of the year always seems
like an accomplishment, as does completing all of those holiday tasks. These
next 10 days or so are when the real frenzy happens for me because I try to get
everything (or at least most things) done so that I can relax and truly savor
the last few days before Christmas, then really languish in the day itself.
The other day, I heard Garrison Keillor describe what I hope
to experience with all this frantic prep work on “A Prairie Home Companion”
from 2011. He said, “One of the best parts of Christmas is the part before it
starts, where there are these whole patches of serenity that open up and you
feel this peace…You sit and enjoy this quiet…You breathe it all in…that’s the
peace of Christmas.”
Striving early in order to experience the peace of Christmas
later is a luxury of age. Years ago there was no peace at Christmas - only
excitement, anticipation and stress. When the kids were growing up, the holiday
season was hectic, often too busy, and making the money stretch far enough to
make the dreams come true was a challenge.
It seems like only yesterday my kids were lying under the
Christmas tree in pajamas with feet, shaking their presents, giggling together,
trying to guess what was inside. We kept the belief in Santa alive as long as
we could at our house because we just didn’t want the magic to end…Baby Jesus,
the Star of Bethlehem, angels singing on high…It’s so much easier to see
miracles through children’s eyes.
Now my kids are grown and a dinner, an overnight and a
breakfast with them is all we get – not that that is not blessing enough – it
is. It’s just that sometimes I miss the month of anticipation and laughter Christmas
used to bring.
I’m not sure why that Regina Spektor song about the piano
not being firewood yet hit such a chord in my heart. It’s not a very happy
thought nor is it very “Christmassy.” It’s so poignant, though; the notion that
something as beloved as a piano might have to end up keeping one warm, but at
least there’ll be friends by the fire.
The same song has the lines, “Love what you have and you’ll
have more love…though there’s still no cure for crying…Everyone knows it’s
going to hurt, but at least we’ll get hurt trying.” Another sad, yet somehow
uplifting thought…There’ll be more tears, but there’ll also be more love.
As you can tell, the holidays are an emotional time for me.
Tears well up in my eyes and I find a lump in my throat more often this time of
year. Everything is so beautiful and bright, yet fragile and fleeting. It’s the
juxtaposition of glory and miracles against the frailty of a newborn, a special
son whose mother knows his fate, while blessed, will not be easy.
There’s that bright star with its warmth and light, shimmering
against the cold of the night…The riches the Wise Men offer, in the face of
such poverty. One of the messages Christmas brings, so loud and clear, is that
we are blessed with such bounty and yet, there is such need…Life is fragile;
the future is unknown. The piano is not firewood yet, so as long as we are
blessed to do so, let’s keep playing…
