Christmas Day. I’ve been in bed with a virus for the past couple of days, so I probably should not have been surprised when I awoke this morning at 3:30. (My nose looks a lot like Rudolph’s.) Eventually I got out of bed and wandered through the dark house to the sun room, where I could look out across our yard and into the woods. To my surprise and pleasure, the snow was still there, at least in our yard! We had a white Christmas in spite of mid-40’sF temperatures and periodic rain!
When I awoke again at 7, much of the snow had disappeared. I just went outside to greet neighbors. I’m guessing the temps are well into the 50’sF! We are assured by the Weather Service that the winds will pick up and the temperature will go down throughout the day.
Jennie and Robin have gone to the Unitarian Universalist church to serve breakfast to the community. This is a tradition in our family. Last year I was fortunate to serve, and chat with, an award-winning poet who was also essentially homeless. We have stayed in touch, and throughout the year I have been treated to the occasional poem via e-mail as the poet travels the country.
Last night Jennie sang in the choir at both services. We both love the Christmas Eve candlelight services and I was loath to miss them. Robin generously stayed home with me, rather than returning to his apartment. About 9:30 Jennie returned with glad tidings of a fine evening. It sounds as though the choir was in fine voice!
Last weekend we attended the annual Chanukkah party hosted by friends from the synagogue. Most of our group is aging and each year we seem to lose someone dear. This year was no exception and our friend, Don’s, presence was palpable, as was his absence. Three of our friends are Holocaust survivors, and this year we heard stories of miracles unknown to us. Also, for the first time, our friends pointedly spoke of the linkage between the Holocaust and Native American experience. It was a deeply moving evening.
The following night Jennie and I hosted our annual Solstice Ceremony and Gathering. We were blessed with the presence of many friends, including Native people from both North and South America. At 6:02 in the evening, the time of the Solstice, we were sharing stories of light, miracles, and healing. It was truly a sacred moment. As so often happens, folks stayed late, chatting and feasting on the magnificent potluck meal. Later, when everyone had departed, several folks having stayed late to help us clean up, Jennie and I spoke of our deep appreciation for our community. We are indeed lucky.
As the storm clears, patches of blue sky are visible over the Adirondack Mountains across the lake. Jennie and Robin will be home soon, and we will get ready for our Holiday Revels with family and friends. I’m not sure how much I’m going to be awake for. We’ll see.
May your day, whether you celebrate Christmas, or not, be filled with miracles, light, and joy.