I'm late! I'm late! For a Very Important Date!

"I'm late! I'm late! For a very important date! I'm late! I'm late! I'm late!" So panicked the White Rabbit of Lewis Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland.  WR and I have a lot in common at this moment.

I have been trying to write an entry for this blog since last Friday. It’s Wednesday morning. Not much has interfered with my disciplined effort to produce on a weekly basis, but this time, a multitude of obligations have come between me and myself.

Right now, I need to get to the post office to mail a box of Christmas cut-out-frosted-decorated cookies to my aunt and uncle in Florida and they need to arrive by Friday. These are my mom’s cookies – the ones that take oh-so-much time to make, but are oh-so-worth-the-effort. My aunt and uncle are 90 and 91, respectively and I have done this for them since the time my mom couldn’t do it any longer. Their exclamations of joy and appreciation make the time and effort entirely worth it. However, I should have been at the post office when it opened – or so I believe. The reason I am not is that I have my sweet brother in residence for the holidays. He has two speeds, slow and slower (although my daughter maintains the speeds are slow and stopped). We must get through a shower, a shave, a brushing of the teeth, and the donning of clothing – all of which are meticulously completed, after which he will likely proudly announce, “See? I fast!” I take a deep breath and try to find something else to do while I am waiting that’s equally as important (like writing this).

When did the time of Advent become a race to the finish line? Someone I know has been posting daily “antidotes” to the stress of the holidays on her blog since December 1. Most of the antidotes involve, simplistically summarized (and I do mean “simplistic” because her writing is at once elegant and thought-provoking), recognition of and connection with what is real. 

I can’t recall a year when I have been so torn between values and tradition, must-do’s and want-to-do’s. Much of it, I am sure, is simply a result of conflicting time frames. Every time I had to make a choice between something I wanted to do vs. what was due for some class, well – you know what I did. Consequently, for the first time since the early 1970s, my Christmas tree remained in the closet until December 19. It’s usually up the weekend after Thanksgiving because ordinarily, it probably gives me more pleasure than anything else associated with this holiday. Getting the tree out and up this year happened solely because of the brother-in-residence phenomenon….otherwise, this would likely have been the year that Christmas barely happened.  My beloved Christmas village remains boxed. Only about a third of my massive collection of ornaments dangles from tree limbs. There are no lights on the porch, no Christmas dishes to eat on, no poinsettia or wreath…. I am feeling a little like a Christmas failure.  

While I listen to the whir of my brother’s shaver and tell myself that express mail is a miracle, I cling to the moments during this season of theoretical joy when I have felt real and connected, and wasn’t thinking about what I needed to do next. In no particular order, they are:

• The family Christmas party at my brother’s group home. After four years, I’ve come to know and appreciate his housemates and their families, and to cherish the dedicated and kind staff. All but two of the staff members made it to Saturday’s party. One former housemate returned. Two former staff members showed up. The eager, “Are you here for our party?” from the verbal housemates, the dishes of food we all contributed, the easy conversation that comes from years of shared concern and strategizing, and the excitement with which my brother’s housemates tackled their Christmas presents – that was real and it was fun.
• Ninety minutes with two good friends, a mother and daughter whom I’ve known since I was in my teens. We three once worked together in a restaurant in my hometown. I don’t get to see them very often as we live 350 miles apart, and when I am in their vicinity, I am usually attending to my brother. I knew from the younger of them that Saturday would be their cookie decorating marathon, and so when the gift of time presented itself, I took the chance and dropped in. No advance phone call needed. I knew I would be welcome. Besides the delicious opportunity to sample their cookies, the love and laughter that flows between us when we get an opportunity to catch up and just be with each other is affirming. They ask nothing of me, except to show up when I can. And when I can’t, they understand.
• Two hour+ phone conversations with my sweet daughter about our changing perceptions of holiday celebrations and what’s important to each of us. It is sometimes painful as we slog through this together… but it’s real and it’s honest.
• The half-mile walk at night from the train station to my home amid all the Christmas lights that adorn the trees, shrubs, and walk-ways of the various apartment buildings. The lights of Christmas have always soothed me. Light is important. Color almost equally so.

As I formulate my plans for future holiday celebrations, I will revisit these moments. The effort to determine what needs to remain and what needs to change will require that.  At the moment, my sweet tortoise brother has just proclaimed, “See? I fast.”