I was looking for an old post I wrote. It’s the one where the beloved husband (who is a Quaker) went to midnight mass with me. I love midnight mass — the pageantry and ceremony. Maybe you had to grow up with it to appreciate it. His perspective was more like a Roman chariot race from Ben Hur. Perhaps it was the incense or the procession of priests and altar boys in frocks or the choir belting out hymns. Anyhow, I found this old one. I don’t remember it but it reflects me. Enjoy.
When you get older your perspective changes.
Holidays are not about the presents. You can buy your own in a color you really like.
It’s not about crowds of people because you can’t connect with anyone in a crowd.
It’s not about insane activities. You’ve seen and done all that. A 50th version of the Nutcracker Suite holds no interest. (Although a 50th viewing of White Christmas at home with a loved one does. Or Love Actually!)
We’re past the parties. We haven’t been invited to a real Christmas party in years.
So what are the holidays about?
Reflection. Gratefulness. Hope.
So much happens each year – some good, some bad. The bad always takes center stage but the good is there in spades.
The good comes in small packages that often go unnoticed — a new crop of cardinal babies or baby rabbits munching on my new spring plants. (How can you get mad at that?)
Silly squirrels and chipmunks racing around the pond. (Me with a net ready to fish them out if they slip but they never do.)
Frog eggs in the pond that turn in to tadpoles.
A chore that goes away because someone else did it.
A stranger buys you a drink at Starbucks for no reason. They don’t even know if you’re naughty or nice. They just do it.
Cat purrs when you’re sad.
Just when you think that the bleak winter will never leave, Mother Nature pushes out leaves and makes everything green again (and just in a nick of time!).
Ripe tomatoes picked from your own garden (enough said).
Intimate dinners with a few people so everyone gets to talk and catch up. (More importantly I can hear everyone!) That’s when you feel the connection.
Family that you know will be there if you need them. With bells on. (And maybe some strudel.)
Best of all, having a good year with you! We’re healthy. All synapses snapping (mostly). Intimate pizza lunches at the mall (I always was a cheap date). Wrestling for control of the TV remote (you fall asleep!).
It’s the normal routines that bring peace and tranquility.
Merry Christmas to the beloved husband.