Looking ahead to Christmas: now we can finally celebrate!

So Advent is almost over, but as most of you know the Christmas season really begins on December 25, as we celebrate the Feast of the Nativity. In the pre-commercialized past, traditional celebrations of Christmas really kicked in as everyone celebrated the twelve days of Christmas from Christmas Day to Epiphany on January 6. That's what the song refers to, obviously. That's also what Shakespeare is talking about in his play, Twelfth Night; in his time Twelfth Night, or Epiphany, was a time of revelry, when everything was topsy-turvy -- like the capers and shenanigans of the play.

In my crowd, we try pretty hard to stick to these old ways. The husband and I host a swingin' party on December 26 every year -- traditionally called Boxing Day in England (for reasons that are explained various ways by various sources).  A couple of days later we will all gather at Mr. and Mrs. K.'s home to sing carols and eat fabulous cookies and drink fabulous wine. We will also play The Name Game, which I have also played in its guise as The Colander Game. Either way, I will do well in this game if I am seated next to The Mother. Not that I am competitive, or planning my strategy already . . . .

On New Year's Eve we go to The Mother and her husband (so is he The Father? I don't think so, but I'm not sure why . . . ) for a black tie swanky soiree. Yes -- I said "black tie," and get this: it's so swanky, the invitation says "white tie optional." Boom.

And finally, on January 3, my whole extended clan of beloveds will meet at my sister's house for our family Christmas celebration, along with a rollicking game of "Dirty Santa." The primo gift last year was an ear wax remover, but I've got a few surprises up my sleeve this year; I think I can top that. This will be our last loving look at the Soldier, who will deploy to Korea on January 7. A brand new graduate of West Point and the field artillery school, he will take all, all the prayers with him when he goes -- please add yours to the pile!

+++++++

Again with the looking ahead, the Advent book for today is actually a great story to read on December 26 -- the Feast of Saint Stephen. If you know the carol you know that the good king and his servant boy went out into the cold winter night on the Feast of St. Stephen, "when the snow lay round about, deep and crisp and even." This little book tells the story of the carol. It's a sweet one!

Role Model

Well, November is here, and as usual it has brought out my melancholy side.  I miss my mom with sharper focus in November, the month of both her birth and her death. But this November in particular, I've been thinking a lot about my fabulous mother-in-law, whose birthday was also in November. I wish you could have known her as well as I did.

She was an excellent grandmother, a breast cancer survivor, a fiercely independent widowed single woman, a terrific friend, the best mother-in-law, and an adventurous soul who was up for anything.

She tap danced. She swam. She shepherded tourists around the Smithsonian as a docent at the National Postal Museum. She read The Washington Post from front to back every single day. She hated to drive, but had the Washington, D.C. bus and subway schedules memorized; she used them as she attended theater productions and baseball games and art exhibits throughout the city. She looked forward to and excelled at the competitive sport of bargain-hunting.

More than this, after her retirement from the U.S. Foreign Service and a career during which she and her husband raised three children -- while stationed in places like Cambodia, Libya, Bangladesh -- she traveled the world all over again. She took cruises throughout Europe, Northern Africa, and Canada. She rode a zip line over the Costa Rican rain forest. She went on a safari in Tanzania -- sleeping in the most glamorous tents I've ever seen. 

And then she was diagnosed with a brain tumor, almost two years ago. She was told she had a "glioblastoma multiforme." Your Google search will give you all the bad news about this kind of tumor. And you've probably been hearing about this particularly shitty brand of cancer in the news recently. 

I want to say so many things. But mostly:

First -- my religion (which was my mother-in-law's  religion too) teaches me that God's ways are not our ways. This is sometimes (but not always) comforting when I consider the ways cancer attacks us. I watched it take control of my own mother, and then of my dear mother-in-law. And to tell you the truth, both times it took control of my life, too. 

But second, this sucky disease gave me a great and good gift, too. My beloved mother-in-law's illness allowed me to take care of her. It allowed me to be with her at her most vulnerable, and it let me take the most intimate care of her. Ultimately, this brave woman let me and her other children be with her as she approached that ultimate journey -- her greatest adventure yet! It's funny -- nineteen years ago, when my own mother went through a similar ordeal with similar grace, my friend Susan said to me, "her suffering is a gift." Which totally pissed me off. Who would want this kind of present?! It certainly has never been on my Christmas wish list. But she was right (as she usually is). I am grateful that I was able to love them in this particular way, in addition to all the other kinds of love I had and have for both of them.

This is a thing I've come to embrace partly because of my religious beliefs -- but I think that my non-religious friends might have experienced a similar gift. I consider myself devout, but I don't think this thankfulness really has to do entirely with faith. It also has to do with our deepest connections to those we love. And, while I have the deepest sympathy for those who think that this is not a death they should have to experience, I look to both of my cherished mothers as my examples and role models. There are many ways to die with dignity.

Finally, as is often my way, I would recommend a book -- for anyone whose family has gone through something like this, or is in the middle of it right now. Shrinkage, by Bryan Bishop, is a wonderful memoir of his (so far) successful battle against an inoperable brain tumor. I first learned of his story through his fiercely wonderful wife's blog, and have cheered him on ever since. He writes with honesty, grit, and humor, and anyone fighting cancer will find inspiration and hope in his story.

. . . because kittens!

So we are floating on a wave of happy around here because kittens!

 

And believe it -- objectively speaking, I could throw some weighty "woe is me" statements around,

but I can't because kittens! 

I mentioned a while ago that some heavy-duty shit has gone down amongst the family et cetera, but: kittens! 

The heavy-duty has stuck around, and it does suck sometimes to be a grownup,

 but I think I'll make it because kittens!

And the sunny girl will definitely tell you:  "Kittens!"

This even though she is contemplating her junior year of high school.  Angst!  Angst!  Oh, wait -- kittens!

So I do know everything is eventually going to be OK.  Because kittens!

Doesn't matter why

So last weekend the fabulous neighbors knocked on the door and instructed us to report for the first cul-de-sac gathering of the season.  Of course we obeyed.  The fire pit was deployed, and everyone brought "a little something" to share.  This was the most last-minute and impromptu of gatherings -- no one (not even Saskia -- Lake Ridge's own Martha Stewart) "made" anything, but we all brought a tasty store-bought something.  The fabulous neighbor gave us all an approving high-five:  "Good job, ladies -- way to keep it casual!"

And then the very next night, we met again at our church:  Trivia Night!  It was another fabulous reason to hang with our besties:  some tasty food (this time we did pull out our "dish to share" cookbooks), a fundraiser for a worthy cause, and a fierce competitive adrenaline rush (fed by $2.00 beer and wine). 

And I will just pause a moment to say that as a table we were pretty freaking smart: nitrogen as a cause of the bends; the crocus-to-saffron transition; memorization of Bible verses; a confident mastery of '90s sitcom and music trivia -- we rocked it, y'all.  We came in second, and immediately had t-shirts made:  "JUST WAIT UNTIL NEXT YEAR, TABLE NINE!"

But the point I want to make here is this:  I don't care about the reason for the gathering.  I just love these people!  How lucky am I?

Voter-palooza!

I was so happy to vote with the tall boy today.  Check out that sticker, people.  The tall boy is very proud -- it's his first one!

Here in Virginia, we had huge turnout everywhere.  On the radio and on Facebook, everyone was talking about how crowded the polling places have been and how long they waited.  My boy and I stood in a long, snaky line for over an hour.  And you know what?  That was fine with me.  It was a privilege to wait with my friends and neighbors (I said "hi!" to my Contractor's husband, the deacon's wife, our County Supervisor -- standing in line with his son, just like I was -- and the realtor who sold us our house).

I was honored to be voting with everyone else in the nation -- including the citizens of Staten Island, who mean it, y'all.

And I will never take the privilege for granted.  We are so lucky to live in this time and this place -- where we call the campaign a battleground, but no one will vote with a gun to his or her head.

Today is a great day to choose a President!

IMAGE CREDIT:
"Staten Island Voters" -- Seth Wenig/AP (2012)