Holiday Hush

All right, I confess--I tend to get a bit overwhelmed by the holiday season. As beautiful as the month of December is, all the purchasing of presents & wanting to make others feel happy & dearly loved can sometimes leave me bedraggled. I mean, does it really matter if my gravy's lumpy or I don't tie ribbons particularly well? Probably not! Like most of you, what matters most to me is that my family & friends are healthy & happy. So this year, I had a radical thought: what if the best gift I could give to others is ME? A sincere heart & joyful spirit who surrounds others with peace & kindness? Who loves others for their authentic selves--not for what they can do for me or provide under a Christmas tree? Yet to do that, I realized I needed to first find that peace & authenticity within myself. So rather than running around like crazy trying to make everything "perfect" this holiday season (& God knows, I'm guilty of that in years past!), I decided to take time out to truly appreciate the simple joys of December & to allow a hush to settle into my bones.  

For me, this means stopping long enough on a ski slope in Colorado recently to notice how the clouds look like Angels over the mountain tops. When I lifted my eyes, honestly, I could almost hear them singing! And I wondered if this wasn't just mental fancy on my part--if there really IS something in the universe that rejoices when we take time out to notice the beauty & wonder all around us.  

And a few evenings ago, while I was out jogging during a light snowfall, at one point, I simply had to stop, clutch at my heart, and gasp. Why? Because as the snow filtered through the sky, the setting sun shone through the spiraling flakes, making each one flicker gold. The sight was so heart-stoppingly beautiful that it brought tears to my eyes. Even though I tried to capture it here (rather badly) on film, nature's poetry still left its mark on my soul in the form of a deep peace. And that silence, that sacred hush, is the true gift that I think December can bring. Within its quiet chill are moments that allow us to pause & appreciate something I can't even quite articulate--but that I believe has something to do with the eternal inside the temporal. A beauty that is at once fleeting & yet so piercing that it can endure in our hearts for all time. 

If we can relax long enough to feel that "sacred hush" during the holiday season, and let it replenish our souls, then we actually have more to offer other people! We have the gift of ourselves that can truly love & cherish those around us.  So as you make your way through this happy, hectic, harried, & hustle & bustle month, I hope you can also give yourself the opportunity to take long walks, to gaze at the sky, to allow snowflakes to fall on your tongue or notice shapes in the ice & patterns in the snow. In other words, during the midst of the holiday rush, don't forget the hush. Because long after the lights come down & the decorative trees have been turned into kindle, it may well be that these quiet moments are what you remember most.

Like the sweet message from a precious child left for you in the snow . . . 

(Photo credit note: All images on my blog are either my own or were gleaned from pictures in the public domains of popular social networks like tumblr, facebook or pinterest. If you own the copyright to any of these images & do NOT want them used publicly, please contact me & I will take them down immediately! : )

Winter Cafe

A few days ago I snapped this picture of a sunset from my back door. I love the serenity of this photo with its brilliant hues & the sun's rays warmly glinting off the patio table, despite the fact that it's only 10 degrees outside. It's as though Winter herself is inviting us to sit for a spell & enjoy her quiet beauty. And truth be told, I've always loved the winter season—the way it's cold often forces us to slow down a little & ponder life in different, perhaps deeper, ways. With trees now bare of their leaves and a delicate blanket of snow cloaking the yard, life seems reduced to its stark essentials. 

So I call this collection of photos my "Winter Cafe." Each one is an opportunity to stop & drink from our surroundings for a moment without the distraction of spring & summer's vivid & competing colors, each one shouting "Life—more life!" In these photos, we see a world at pause, pooling energy at its roots—waiting—enduring—through frost & cold with a hardened faith in what it knows is inevitable. 

Because no matter how bleak the landscape might appear sometimes through my frosted windows, the soft winter sunlight still glistens at dawn, and wisdom tells us that change is always the operative word, the only thing we can count on in this life. 

Some of that change is welcome, when I have to face trudging to my old barn through snow & cold in the early light. I know these conditions won't last forever, and that spring is indeed around the corner.

Or when I walk along the lake near my home and hear shards of ice clacking against the shore. I know surely the wildlife are eager to see spring's return & the promise of more food that it offers. 

But then, at other times, such change is not nearly so welcome. Last night I visited a dear friend's mother, who was told she has only two weeks to live. This news came as a shock to us all. I wish I could have you close your eyes for a moment & wave a magic wand & cause each one of you to feel the kind of joy & light this woman always brings into a room. Dozens of plaques adorn her walls for the dedication & innovation she has brought to schools throughout a lifetime of service as a teacher & a principal. Yet what I love about her most, beyond her sparkling eyes & wit that can make an entire room erupt into laughter, is her keen insight into the moments that matter most in life. Even though there was a throng of people at her home last night, all chatting & telling stories & squeezing in their last visits with her,  I saw her turn her head for a second at a soft sound that was coming from another room. No one else seemed to hear or to notice it—but it was the sound of children giggling. Children who'd been too restless & noisy & who'd been sent to another room to play. Yet despite the clamor of guests around her, the woman looked up at me, her eyes twinkling, and  said, "Do you hear it? That's my favorite sound in the whole world."

And of course she's the kind of woman who freely lets squirming children sit on her lap. And she's the kind of woman who thought to hold a "jewelry party" for all of her granddaughters & gave them every precious bauble she'd ever owned—even some with diamonds in them—and then just smiled at the girls as though each one was an angel from Heaven. This is a wise woman who knows how to put her affairs in order, as straight as the frozen rows in the cornfields that surround the countryside near her home.

But this is also a woman who's not going to refuse her final appointment at the Winter Cafe. She will drink from this cup, and take time out to cherish everything she has ever loved. And in doing so, she's bravely preparing herself to walk that final snowy path alone. The ultimate change is coming for her, and she knows it, just as we know it.  She will not see another spring. 

But the one thing I understand for certain in a lifetime ruled by change: When it's time for our dear Madeline to go, although there'll only be one set of footprints along her frosted path, the cold air around her will be filled with the thrum of a thousand Angels' wings. And to her, it will sound just like her grandchildren giggling . . . 


Angel Update:
Madeline did make her final transition shortly after I wrote this article on the night of 2/15/13. Below is one of my favorite pictures of her with her two beautiful granddaughters at her side, showing the typical radiance of spirit that was such a blessing to her community for so many years. And I want everyone to know that although I've been fortunate to interview celebrities & even meet a rock star during my blogging journey, none of these individuals has come close to the overwhelming volume of readers who were touched by Madeline's story. Why? I like to think it's because people like Madeline are the real stars of our lives—for their vibrant spirits light our paths & make our own souls shine that much brighter. And now, Madeline has her wings . . .

Holiday Spirit

You know the feeling—it's exhilarating that the holidays are coming, yet as much as we want to invest ourselves in the warmth & good cheer that the season brings, we feel that clock ticking . . . There are presents to buy, gifts to wrap, incoming relatives from out of town, meals to prepare, the list is endless!

I was already buckling from the stress. So when a friend called me for a brief "sanity check," I was only too happy to help a comrade in the domestic trenches by listening to her woes. In her case, she had a mother-in-law staying with her who she dearly loves, BUT who's a chain-smoking & demanding Queen Bee who recently had chemotherapy along with every other illness & complication on the planet, AND who fell down when she tried to disembark from a train & broke three ribs & now requires constant attention. (Can you spell T-R-A-I-N           W-R-E-C-K?)  The very fact that this woman has a terrific sense of humor and a will of iron only makes the whole situation more difficult because you love her to death even as you find yourself wishing you could choke her!

Sound familiar?

But what became decidedly unfamiliar was the moment that I spotted my friend in the parking lot at the grocery store at the very same time I was talking to her on my cell phone! We both stared at each other in disbelief and began to laugh. This has never happened to me before, and it felt like a truly odd incident of synchronicity that we were at the exact same place at the exact same time.

But that didn't even compare to the synchronicity of who walked beside us at that moment. It was none other than . . .

Mrs. Claus.

(With a smile as big as Texas.)

I know she was Mrs. Claus because who else wears holiday pajamas and a Santa hat to the grocery store, complete with matching red socks and a festive mink stole with a glittering holiday brooch when it's over sixty degrees outside?

When Mrs. Claus spotted us, she smiled even bigger and said, "Why, hello there!" like she knew us.

Good god, she probably does! And I bet she knows when we've been naughty or nice, too!

My friend and I couldn't help ourselves—the woman was such a bundle of warmth and joy that we had to walk alongside her to the grocery store, absorbing her blithe holiday spirit. This woman didn't give a rip what anyone thought of her bizarre get-up (did I mention it was only 8:30 am? Her outfit was so bright she could've stopped traffic). And what was even sweeter was when my friend remarked on her luxurious mink stole, the woman said, "Oh, I've had this for over 40 years. Do you want to feel it?"

Of course we did! We wanted to touch something warm and soft during a holiday season that had turned harsh on us and just fill ourselves with this woman's generosity & joy. (I did feel bad for the minks, but at least her coat was vintage!) And in soon order we found ourselves grinning from ear to ear. This woman was so cuddly that I suddenly felt my heart jerk & realized I didn't want to let her go. In a snap she had relieved all the stress of the holiday season and made us feel oddly generous and warm hearted again. So I asked her if I could take her picture to remember her. And she said "Sure honey. My name's Birdie—I don't know why, I just always attract a lot of birds."

Whoa. Do real people say things like that?

I'm going to be honest with you—at that moment, I began to wonder if she was an angel. Last time I checked, only Snow White and angels attract feathered friends who hover around them for no rational reason. And once we departed from her side, I never saw her in the store again.

Was Birdie an angel who'd been sent to bolster our spirits and remind us that the real reason we celebrate the holidays during this season is for the chance to share our joy? It's impossible to say. But I do know that after our brief encounter with her, my friend and I were able to have a cup of coffee and laugh about our woes, and then—miracle beyond miracles—we were actually able to look forward to facing the holiday season. So whether she was an angel or Mrs. Claus or not, the one thing I do know is that I am back to enjoying the prospect of the holidays once again—a blessing indeed.  And I sincerely do believe . . .