not this year

Christmastime is here, and with it much merriment with family (and coffee filters).  Getting to the celebration was a challenge, as in the final days of Advent we were all fighting The Sniffles whilst trying to "get things done." 

Decking the halls for Christmas is one of my favorite things to do, but not with the full array.  Not this year. 

Many of the (breakable) Christmas decorations I wanted to put up at the end of Advent are still in the box  (which means less to put away later!).  Our Christmas tree went up on the Third Sunday of Advent, and I marveled to myself how it has evolved since the first year I had a Christmas tree of my own -- one waist-high number in my first apartment, trimmed in a monochromatic white and silver scheme, my massive Persian cat shedding on the velvet tree skirt underneath.  That tree has been replaced by one trimmed with ornaments that tell the story of our family life thus far (but only about three-fourths of the way up its nine-foot stature, with breakables at my eye level or higher for obvious reasons).  I like this one better.

There have several family gatherings over the course of this past week.  It's always wonderful to see everyone -- so much so that we have a difficult time extracting ourselves from the festivities in time to make it home for a reasonable bedtime.  After so much fun commotion, it's difficult for little ones to wind down, which makes us question why we even went out after contending with the late night and the resulting fussiness in the morning. Even while trying to stick to our routine, the inevitable deviation catches up with us eventually.  Someday, we'll be better able to partake of the later evening festivities, but not this year.

Awash in the many expressions of delight from our four bambini at the wonders of the Christmas celebration, we draw them close and are reminded once again of this brief but intense season of our family life.  Together with our extended family, our celebration of Christ's birth continues.   We might not be out and about as much as other folks, but that's alright.  Grateful for the gift of this time together, God willing, we will never forget this Christmas.  Not this year.

drumroll, please

There were no shooting icicles or sleeves stapled to gutters, but still I couldn't help but think of Clark Griswold in the 1989 movie Christmas Vacation as my beloved (whose motto for such endeavors is "safety first") scaled a gargantuan ladder to hang Christmas lights on the exterior of our house today.  The elder lad has long been lobbying for lights, but this is the first year for us to hang them outdoors.

It was meant to be a surprise for the bambini, but when the elder lad spotted his father on the ladder out the front door, the lad knew something was up.  "Did you guys plan this?" he wanted to know.  When I answered in the affirmative, the look on his face read "whoa.  I wonder what else they talk about when I'm not around?"  If you only knew...

However disappointed the younger lad may have been to miss out on the ladder scaling fun (as climbing really is his favorite pastime), he and his brother were happy to help flip the switch when the moment was right.  They and their "sissies" were delighted to see the little lights twinkling, and no nuclear generators were necessary to supply electricity to the surrounding houses because of our festive but not ablaze light display (as in the movie I called to mind). 

It was a fitting if freezing activity to usher in the second week of Advent, building upon the preparations and decorations we began rolling out last weekend.   As we prepare to welcome Jesus, the Light of the World, I will always remember the expressions of glee emanating from the bambini as they took in the beautiful light.

Gran-tastic faith

Every trip to Chicago has included at least one trip to Mass. Going with my Grannie is always an honor, an outing I savor.

Hailing from a small town where Catholics are a minority, visiting my family in Chicago and going to Mass with them was a major source of encouragement for and reinforcement of my own faith. I was always astounded by the sheer number of people at Mass. Compared with our little parish, Grannie's was humongous. It was my first glimpse at the universal Church.

The number of Masses Grannie's parish would offer over the Christmas holidays in order to accommodate all those wishing to attend boggled my mind. Many Christmas Eves I'd go to (a usually very crowded) Mass with my cousins, the four of us girls (this was before my sister and boy cousins were born) in our crinkly Christmas dresses. We'd come home to a Christmas Eve feast and all manner of merriment.

We've spent many Christmases in Chicago, and they've come to celebrate Easter with us a few times. We've gone there and they've come here for many sacramental occasions including baptisms, first communions, confirmations, and weddings. The celebrations afterward are always festive.

Such happy occasions have been largely due to living the liturgical year, celebrating the sacraments together, and sharing a common faith.

Grannie's faith has long been a source of inspiration to me. As I reflect upon the events of her life, some very joyful and some filled with sorrow, I realize that it is her faith that carries her through them. So it is for me too, God willing.

favorite Christmas books

We benefit hugely from a longstanding tradition in my beloved's family at this time of year: our children receive books as gifts every year from my beloved's parents and grandparents (among others; my sister gave them books this year as well).  Each book is selected with great attention to detail both with regard to the story and how it relates to the child for whom it is intended.  The opening of the Christmas books is one of my favorite parts of the Christmas festivities.  I love to go back and look at the inscriptions in each one year after year, as these books are ways of remembering our bambini at particular stages in their lives and the things that captured their fancies at the those times.  They're also ways of marking our journey as a young family.

For example, the year we were expecting our second lad, we received Little One, We Knew You'd Come by Sally Lloyd-Jones, illustrated by Jackie Morris.  With beautiful imagery both literary and visual, this book captures the profound joy and hopeful expectation of not only a couple expecting a baby, but the world awaiting its savior.  The interactions depicted between Mary and Joseph and the two of them and the newborn Jesus are tender and intimate, creating a sense of quiet wonder coexisting with abundant joy.

When a shepherd boy goes in search of the lost sheep in his care, he finds much more than he was expecting.  The boy (and the lamb missing its mother the sheep) finds Mary, Joseph, and newborn Jesus in the stable.  Something inside him recognizes the immensity hidden within the humble couple and their baby, and he longs to be a part of it.  The warmth of Raúl Colón's illustrations evokes a sense of wonder and peace.

"After the star had set, after the angels had roosted, after the shepherds had hurried back to their sheep, there was one person still awake in the dark stable."   Thus begins Geraldine McCaughrean's Father and Son: A Nativity Story.  Joseph sits awake in the stable after everyone else is asleep, wondering how he can ever care for, teach, admonish, instruct, and joke with the one who formed the world and all its contents.   This is a book filled with emotions that will resonate immediately with parents both seasoned and those just starting out.

Kate DiCamillo's Great Joy is a visually arresting book (with illustrations by Bagram Ibatoulline) with a profoundly moving story centering on a little girl living in a busy city and the homeless organ grinder on the street corner she watches from her window.  She's getting ready for her Christmas program, but she can't stop thinking about this sad man and his little monkey, especially after seeing them sleeping on the street corner in the snow.  Moved with compassion, she is compelled to reach out to him.  The result is pure joy.

 In Saint Frances Celebrates Christmas, Mary Caswell Walsh tells the story of the first nativity scene in an easygoing manner perfect for young children.  Saint Francis gathers people and animals together for a wondrous effect.  This Christmas we received The Song of Francis and Jingle the Christmas Clown by Tomie de Paola, which I eagerly await reading with my bambini. 

Cynthia Rylant's Silver Packages is a poignant story of an Appalachian town awaiting the yearly Christmas train.  A wealthy man once helped by the people of the town stands on the caboose tossing Christmas presents to the children standing in the snow clad in threadbare clothing.  One little boy learns a profound lesson about receiving, then giving back.

Our list of favorites would not be complete without a couple more of Tomie de Paola's books, including The Legend of the Poinsettia and The Story of the Three Wise Kings, and Merry Christmas, Curious George.

Snuggled up with my bambini reading these books makes for some of my most favorite times.  I hope it adds to their joy and understanding of the reason we celebrate Christmas.  I know it adds to mine.

great expectations

When I was a novice music director planning the first Christmas liturgies of my service, I selected Marty Haugen's ebullient "Awake, Awake, and Greet the New Morn" as the opening song of the Christmas Day liturgy.*

"Awake, awake, and greet the new morn,

For angels herald its dawning,

Sing out your joy, for now he is born,

Behold! the Child of our longing.

Come as a baby weak and poor,

To bring all hearts together,

He opens wide the heav'n-ly door

And lives now inside us for ever."

Festive, yes, and fitting, sure -- but not "O Come, All Ye Faithful" or "Joy to the World" or some other such bulwark of the Christmas carol repertoire as some might have been expecting.  I was known for introducing a lot of new music to the parish, and Christmas was no exception.

Each of us has our own set of expectations when it comes to such things as major holidays like Christmas.  They are built on tradition, the memories of our childhood, the hopes we have for how we'd like to celebrate in the future, and (at least) what we think the people we plan to celebrate with expect of the holidays.  But what happens when it all turns out differently?

The final two weeks of Advent passed in a blur for our family.  Our lad who seemed so fragile was for good reason.  He was diagnosed with pneumonia, then a week later turned up with an allergic reaction to the antibiotic prescribed to treat the pneumonia.  Before that latter revelation, we were contending with breathing treatments and medicine and such.  This left little time or energy left for fully entering into the Christmas mystery -- at least, in the way I thought I should have.

With Christmas Eve came a blizzard -- an anomaly for our region of the country.  Its arrival meant no family coming over to spend Christmas Eve with us or us going to visit other family on Christmas Day as we had planned, treacherous travel conditions for those who did venture this way, and no outing to Mass -- the centerpiece of our entire Christmas celebration.

Now the weather conditions are improving, and family is on the way to celebrate with us.  May our tidings be festive, joyful, and grateful for the blessings of family, the restoration of good health for our young lad, and most of all for the gift of redemption that comes with the arrival of the Christ child.

Christ enters into our reality knowing full well what it is, and wanting to be a part of it.  Our desire to be still and listen and make every little detail perfect is itself a gift from God -- a stirring of our devotion and faith.  But he knows our particular circumstances -- chaotic and stressful and exhausting though they may be -- and embraces us and them.  Even when we can't come to him, he comes to us.

I don't remember if we got to this fourth verse of the carol that Christmas morning with the obscure music (there *were* other, more familiar selections that morning), but it certainly seems fitting this year:

"Rejoice, rejoice, take heart in the night,

Though dark the winter and cheerless,

The rising sun shall crown you with light,

Be strong and loving and fearless;

Love be our song and love our prayer,

And love, our endless story,

May God fill ev'ry day we share,

And bring us at last into glory."

*In our Catholic tradition, there are several Masses celebrating Christmas beginning on Christmas Eve, including the vigil Mass on Christmas Eve, Mass at Midnight, and Mass during the Day on Christmas Day.