Christmas Surprises

"Christmas is not as much about opening our presents as opening our hearts." - Janice Maeditere

I don't like surprises; I never have. Even as a child I found surprises to be disarming rather than delightful. This probably has to do with being a fearful person who deals with the unknown by trying to maintain control of everything, all of the time. Needless to say, that doesn't work, ever, but especially not at Christmas time, for Christmas is a time that is supposed to be full of surprises.

Baby Jesus was certainly a surprise to Mary and Joseph, as well as to all humanity. For the Jews, that lamp burning brightly eight days on no oil was another surprise and miracle. Snow on Christmas Eve (even in Colorado, where I grew up) is a welcome surprise, as are visits from family and friends, tasting the outcome of a new recipe, and the bigger things that happen over the holidays, like getting engaged.

Gifts are supposed to be surprises, at least the best ones are. This trend towards mostly giving gift cards makes me sad; after all, where is the surprise in that?  

As you can see, my fear of surprises has not kept me from hankering after them. Christmas after Christmas, holiday after holiday, I observe how much joy surprises bring and I wonder what that must feel like. Imagine! actually enjoying a surprise. It's like I'm outside a snow globe, looking in.

It's not that I'm not thankful for the blessings I have; and, it's not that I'm some kind of perennial Grinch. It's just that it's obvious I'm missing some of the magic life has to offer, being so anti-surprise.

That's probably why the Good Lord sees fit to surprise me, mostly with animals to save, all of the time. In His wisdom, is He trying to break me of a bad habit? And, like anyone with a bad habit, am I stubbornly clinging to mine? "Yes," is the answer to both questions; hence the constant stream of lost souls that find their way into my life.

The latest was a badly matted, really ratty looking little dog that darted out in front of my car the other day. I stopped, so as not to hit him and he sat down in front of my car, refusing to move. I got out and he just looked at me, like, "I'm not budging until you put me in your car." So, of course, I did.

I was on the way to photograph three events for the paper, so Lil' Dude, as he quickly became, sat patiently in the car for the next three hours, sleeping in the sun and thumping his nasty, dirty tail as I came and went. He looked horrible and smelled even worse. His coat was caked with dirt and mud and other things; he smelled like rotten garbage.

"Good Lord!" I thought. "What kind of a surprise is this?"

After spending what felt like way too much time bathing and clipping Lil' Dude, taking him to the vet, making sure he had a few hot meals, some lap time and some love, I lost track of the wonderful message the Good Lord's surprises are supposed to give. By the time I found myself crossing things off my Christmas to-do list, because between meeting work deadlines and dealing with Lil' Dude, those things simply weren't going to happen this year, I had become downright resentful.   

Then I took Lil' Dude to the groomer for a professional cut and a bath. You should've seen the way that little dog looked and acted when I picked him up. He was so full of joy and life and love, after getting the last of his old, sad existence shaved away; my heart just melted. Talk about a diamond in the rough! Lil' Dude turned out to be a pure-bred Shih Tzu with an absolutely wonderful personality.

Once again, an unwanted surprise that started out as an inconvenience turned out to be a blessing and yet another lesson for me about what we are put here to focus on and prioritize. Lil' Dude the dumpster dog turned out to be the sweetest, nicest, most loving little guy - all he needed was a break. And, isn't needing a break, and the surprise and miracles that follow, what the Christmas story is about?

I am hopeful that by the time you read this, Lil' Dude will be in a new home, with a new family, making their holidays more merry and bright. How blessed am I, to get to be the one who could offer that 17 pound Christmas blessing a room at my inn?  

Reaching out, lifting up, helping, caring, giving and sharing, that's what Christmas is all about. I wish you all of those things this holiday season and may the new year bring you plenty of surprises, unexpected blessings, and simple delights.  

Angels Amongst Us

"All God's angels come to us disguised." - James Russell Lowell

I believe in angels and am pretty sure they walk amongst us all the time. Admittedly, I have a vivid imagination, but over the years I've encountered what were most surely angels over and over again. Sometimes they come in the form of a misfit animal, limping down the street or dumped on my doorstep, in need of food and lodging until I find them a new home. Those angels tend to show up at the most inconvenient times, but invariably, before they leave, give back more than they have received.

Other angels show up to provide support or rescue at exactly the right time. One such angel appeared to me in a Piggly Wiggly parking lot on a very rainy day shortly after we moved to Georgia. My groceries were in paper sacks and as I carried them towards the car, the sacks gave way and my food went rolling all over the parking lot. Alone, overwhelmed, homesick, wet and sad, I sat down on the bumper of my car and cried.

Then, I heard a voice, the softest, kindest, gentlest voice I've ever heard, say, "There, there, Sugar - everything's going to be alright." I looked up and there was a brightly dressed Black woman, with the most lit-up face. She had a scarf on, but the rain didn't seem to even be falling on her and in what seemed like an instant, she had my food gathered up in a canvas shopping bag and loaded in the car. Before she left, she hugged me really tight and whispered again, "I mean it, Sugar, everything's going to be just fine for y'all here." Then she was gone, poof! I have no memory of watching her walk away.   

That was such an inconsequential thing, helping me with my groceries in the rain; but, at the time it seemed like a miracle because what that angel really did was give me hope that things would turn out okay in my new home. And, it's clear, 23 years later, she was right.   

Another angel came to Mr. Clark and I at a time when we were under a lot of stress, things were going poorly for us financially and our marriage was a mess. It was a hot Sunday morning in August, six years ago. Our daughter was getting married in a few days and we were trying to spruce things up for a houseful of out-of-town guests. One of the things on our to-do list was repair an old building in the back yard with some barn wood. We had spotted a collapsed barn on what appeared to be a deserted lot out in the country and we were headed that way.

As Mr. Clark started to back into what once had been a driveway, he landed our old pickup truck in a ditch so deep there was no way out. In trying to pull out of the ditch, he buried the truck axle-deep. There we were, seething and sweating in the hot sun, pretty much hating each other for a million reasons other than that we were stuck in the middle of nowhere and neither of us had remembered to bring our cell phone. It was a tipping points and the only thing we agreed on was that once we got this wedding pulled off, a divorce would be next.

Then, out of the clear blue, a great big diesel pickup truck pulled up - it was black, a huge dualie with a winch on the front. A tall, fit-looking Asian man, dressed in a Sunday suit got out and said, "You look like you could use some help." Then, before we could even respond, he opened a large tool box in the back of the truck, got out some tow cables and other things and had our old truck out of the ditch before we could register what was going on.  

He did this without getting any mud or dirt on his clothes or shoes; his hands weren't even dirty and I don't recall that he wore gloves. "This really wasn't such a big deal," he said, as he stepped back into his truck and prepared to drive away. "You're going to be alright, trust me on this." Then, poof! just like the angel in the Piggly Wiggle parking lot, he was gone. Neither of us could remember seeing him drive away....

"You know that was an angel," Mr. Clark said; this would be Mr. Clark, the computer guy, who doesn't believe in such things. "His message was pretty clear. We can get through this if we just stick together." And, like the other angel, the angel in the black truck was right.  

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 one another...After all, who knows what kind of angels are out there, just waiting to be seen?

Adopting the Trans-Siberian Mindset

"Beware of the barrenness of a busy life." - Socrates

Here we are again - that time of year where the "To Do" list gets longer and longer, the days get shorter and shorter, and the approach of "the holidays" looms larger and larger. (By "the holidays" I mean the combination of dates and celebrations that occur this time of year - no disrespect to Christmas intended.) In spite of the joy the holiday season brings, there is also the annual stress of, "How am I going to get all this done?"

Germans have a term "zerrissenheit" which is the state of "torn-to-pieces-hood." Sound familiar? The notion is that to be human is to feel fractured and pulled in a dozen directions. And, while this is a relatively common state, it is not a comfortable or easy one to be in. When my level of "zerrissenheit" gets too high, I melt down. And, that is what happened last week.

As is usually the case, the thing that caused the melt down was inconsequential. On a regular day or week or if I was in a regular state of mind, the melt down catalyst wouldn't have effected me at all. But, in a state of maxed out-zerrissenheit-ness, all hell breaks lose when that minor tipping point is reached and that's what happened to me.

Long story short, I have been given permission to cut back on my hours at work (thank you, kind and understanding publisher and editor) and I have been challenged by Mr. Clark to get my act together simplicity-wise. For months, years, most of my life I have been yearning after balance and simplicity; and, for months, years and most of my life they have eluded me. Given the choice between chaos and simplicity, I choose chaos every time. You can imagine what a mess my life, my mind and my house are in after 54 years of choosing chaos.

What better time to contemplate and institute simplicity than during the holidays? It is a time of birth and blessings, a time of shining stars and bright lights, a time when it is easy to feel a heightened sense of spirituality and clarity on the things that really matter. It is also a time when we get to pull those who are dearest to us close, either physically or through the exchange of cards, letters and gifts. It is a wonderful time of the year that challenges us to sort through the clutter and focus on what really matters. Easier said than done and therein lies the simplicity/balance/holiday challenge...

When you cut back on work hours, you have to cut back on expenses. Something about belt tightening makes identifying unnecessary lifestyle clutter more obvious. Mr. Clark and I pay money for a lot of things we don't need or can do ourselves; that starts to end now. Do those meals out really justify the stress that working too much causes? No. Can I clean my own house? Yes. Can we do a better job of keeping up with yard work and repairs if I have more time? Yes.

The things that seem like no-brainers after a melt-down/life revamp appeared to be impossible only a few weeks back. There is no doubt I can make a calmer, more balanced life if I do more and stress less. And, an important part of all that involves doing more for those who are less blessed.
In the midst of all this soul-searching and life restructuring, I read an NPR story on "Russia by Rail: Trans-Siberian Traditions," by David Greene. While reading it, a light bulb went off in my head.

The story is about what a big place Siberia is and how long it takes to cross it on a train. A ride like that, especially across a place as barren and beautiful as Siberia, gives travelers ample time to stare out the window, relax, read, think and develop a sense of camaraderie with the other riders. Greene describes it as hours and hours to "look at the peaceful emptiness...that stretched into the distance...eager for the next stop where even the smallest things are thrilling."

Travelers who have experienced this have coined the phrase "the Trans-Siberian mindset." I like that thought; it involves fully experiencing things and sharing food with strangers. "Sharing food on the train is how friendships are cemented," Greene says, and during his first few attempts he did a shabby job of it. He has since "gotten better at buying tasty offerings to share" and now makes that a priority at every train stop.

This holiday season, I'm on a journey to adopt "the Trans-Siberian mindset," which means simplifying my priorities and taking more time to enjoy the ride. Hans Hofmann said, "The ability to simplify means to eliminate the unnecessary so that the necessary may speak." What better time than the holidays to listen loud and clear?