she's more than an angel at the top of the tree

“I will honor Christmas in my heart and try to keep it all the year,” – Ebenezer Scrooge  

 

The angel who graces the top of our Christmas tree is as old as me. My parents bought her the year I was born because my mom thought the angel was beautiful and her cherubic face reminded my mom of my fat, little, round one. The angel has bright red hair, a sweet wise smile and golden cardboard wings. She floats on a cloud of tightly curled, shiny bright “angel hair” (a fiberglass substance that, for safety reasons, is probably not made anymore.) To me, she has always been magnificent.

 

Carefully unpacking the angel and placing her atop the tree was always one of my favorite Christmas memories. So when my mom died, I was very happy to find the angel in my box of family ornaments. I knew that angel would hover as patiently, spectacularly and lovingly over my young family’s festivities as she had when I was growing up. And, even though my kids never saw what was special about “that old cardboard angel mom likes so much,” they understood putting something else on top of our tree was not a possibility.

 

When you think about it, it shouldn’t matter what perches on the top of a Christmas tree. After all, it’s not the tree that matters, but the family that gathers around it. Yet little things like seeing that cardboard angel appear year after year warm our hearts. They bring our holidays a sense of continuity and create a connection between things past and present. They provide a bit of predictability in the face of the uncertainly and challenges that lie ahead.

 

W. Somerset Maugham said, “Tradition is a guide, not a jailer.” That is a thought to ponder as we make our holiday memories. The things we did in the past, no matter how pleasant and precious, often no longer meet the needs of the present. The things we call “tradition” currently may well change in the future.

 

In our family, we share dinner and open gifts on Christmas Eve, then the kids, though grown, sleep over. The gay apparel we don is a new pair of pajama pants and in the morning we wake up and have breakfast together. The evening meal changes every year; the breakfast menu, however, is set in stone. It’s a breakfast casserole my dad’s wife made for us for years, every Christmas morning.

 

Like my funny old cardboard angel, it’s not that the casserole is all that special. It’s that eating it reminds us of times we had together, laughing, unwrapping gifts and enjoying each other’s company. We used to travel back to Colorado and spend Christmas with my family every year. Now we don’t do that anymore and the taste of that casserole on Christmas morning brings back those memories and joins us together again. We call, they’re eating the casserole; they call, we’re eating the casserole. It’s as if, just for a few moments, all those years and miles no longer separate us.   

       

For Woody Allen, tradition is “the illusion of permanence,” and while we know things will change as they inevitably do, the illusion of permanence is a precious one, especially as we gather together in groups large and small during this special time of the year.

 

Seeing that cardboard angel, still resplendent though 56 years old, gives me a sense of continuity…Her wise, cherubic smile, surrounded by that glorious “angel hair” cloud connect me to times past and give me faith in the future – after all, she’ll still be on the tree, won’t she?

 

Merry Christmas to you and yours! And, may your traditions, old and new, bring you the same sense of warmth, continuity and connection that my cardboard angel and that Christmas morning casserole bring to my family.

 

"'those Christmas lights..."

“Oh Christmas lights, light up the streets; light up the fireworks in me. May all your troubles soon be gone. Oh Christmas lights, keep shining on.”  - Coldplay song 

 

That particular Coldplay song has been playing in my head for a few weeks now, with such regularity it has become my mental soundtrack for “the Holidays, 2013.”  For me, ‘the holidays” start a few days before Thanksgiving and last through Valentine’s Day. Winter is a dark, cold time; I’m in no hurry to give up bright lights and warm feelings just because the calendar says I should.   

After years of stressing over every detail on list after long holiday list, I’ve changed my approach. A near pathological need for perfection and closure has been replaced by a wondering fondness for the surprises a slowly unfolding, minimally organized holiday season brings.

The thankfulness of Thanksgiving is made festive by the appearance of Christmas lights, music and decorations. Shopping for gifts, I hear complete strangers wish each other, “Merry Christmas!” at nearly every stop. Yes, this season is feeling pretty bright. Once those holiday cards, photos and letters start arriving, there’s a near constant smile on my face.

Add to this bounty of holiday cheer the richness the juxtaposition of light and dark, having and needing, wanting and being well blessed brings – such stark contrasts everywhere.  While I am wrapping gifts, others are out of work and will have no Christmas this year. While Mr. Clark, our resident chef, is busy planning meal after delicious meal, others don’t have enough food to feed their families. While I have the luxury of keeping my thermostat at 70 degrees while also burning cozy fire after cozy fire in the fireplace, others are cold, bone cold, with no prospect of warmth. There’s no time like the holidays to re-realize, over and over again, how my cup does truly runneth over.

Pastor Liz from Garrison Keillor’s A Prairie Home Companion challenges her congregation of stoic Lutherans to “give what you do not have.” She adds, “The thing you do not have is certitude and so you should give certainty to others as a gift.”  

What a precious thought. We, none of us, know what tomorrow will bring. At any time, this glorious excess I am currently blessed with can be snatched by an unforeseen act of God or twist of fate. So, for now, take this hug, this can of cat food, this blanket or dog bed or coat, this ham or turkey or box of canned goods, and let it create a few moments of certitude for you, from me.

The season of Advent brings promise and with promise comes hope. It’s so important for us to encourage those who are struggling. A few Christmases ago, Mr. Clark was out of work and things were grim at our house. There were no gifts; we had food, but it was simple and there were no leftovers. We had no idea what the New Year would bring…”At least we have our health and our family” was the mantra we clung to.  

The simplicity and sadness of that Christmas has stuck with me, even as I celebrate this holiday season with such plenty. Family matters; gifts do not. Gathering together matters; having an elaborately decorated house does not. Health and love matter; filling elegantly wrapped boxes with things no one really needs does not. If you are in need, hold on; better times may be right around the corner, even if you can’t see them yet.    

Luciano de Crescenzo said, "We are each of us angels with only one wing and we can only fly by embracing one another." What a lovely thought, especially for the holiday season. There's no better time than now to reach out and fly a little closer to each other.