An Adequate Advent

As usual, I came into this Christmas season feeling overwhelmed and wondering how everything would get done. Maxine and Sarah were my focus right into December, so I got a late start. Then Don had back surgery on the 9th. It seemed there was no way to keep up with all the traditions we've established, and, in the end, I didn't. And we had a nice holiday anyway ... imagine that.

Don got the outdoor decorations up before his surgery, despite the discomfort he was in. I am grateful for his dedication, and I enjoyed our beautiful yard every evening while waiting for Abby to do her business before bed.

For the first time ever, we had a pre-cut Christmas tree. The tree farm we've gone to the last few years was getting sparse anyway -- and, again, Don's back -- so we bought one from our local greenhouse. It might just be the prettiest ever. 

I found a new decoration at a craft fair that became an instant favorite: "PEACE" in Scrabble letters. It looked perfect on the kitchen window sill and made me smile every time I stood at the sink. Next to it was another favorite: the beaded candle my friend Jo made me some 25 years ago. She was in her 70s when we met and died a year or two after Don and I were married. These times call for more peace and light.

Did I mention Don had surgery? He's the only person I know who would send a selfie from his hospital bed. He was home the same day, and recovery has been better than last time, but he's still moving gingerly.

Sarah was otherwise occupied for most of the cookie-baking this year. Once again, my parental expectations were off-base. I figured she'd be a big help with holiday baking in the teen years, but I failed to factor in her social life. She did produce some decorated masterpieces!

Four years ago, I created a new Advent calendar for Sarah, decorating small boxes to hold candy, gifts, and slips of paper with seasonal activities. I thought it would be easier to oversee than the old system, which was all activities. 

Of course, the idea was to fill all the boxes at the end of November and be done with it, but that never happened. Advent, for me, became weeks of managing the boxes and looking for small, inexpensive items to mix in with the ideas for goodwill and festivity. 

Sarah often forgot to open the boxes and failed to follow through on the "action items." So, about mid-December this year, I just stopped filling the boxes. It took a couple of days for her to notice, but she was unfazed. Another tradition bites the dust.

We also skipped "Santa's Trains" at Look Park. I always enjoy the decorated trees, but Don and Sarah can take it or leave it, so we left it this year.

So what DID we do this year? Well, I went to my first cookie swap, at my friend Morley's house. She's the mom of one of Sarah's friends, and we've bonded over being stricter than the other moms. 😆 She invited me last year, but I got COVID right beforehand. This year was great fun; I made another new friend and caught up with one from childhood, who happens to be the school nurse at Sarah's elementary school. Lots of laughs! (And Don and Sarah were thrilled to have cookies to eat before Christmas.)

Sarah went to her own Christmas party with her group of friends (girls and boys) and had a Secret Santa gift exchange.

We also went to church on Christmas Eve for the first time since 2018. It was Don's idea, and I always loved that service, so we joined our former congregation at 4:00 p.m. (It used to be at 7:00 p.m., but that changed in the last few years.)

Don wanted Sarah to "fix her hair nicely" (i.e., not wear it down) for the occasion. He asked her, and I asked her, and she wore it straight. Way to fight the patriarchy, Sarah.

Our former church has been without a pastor for a while now, so a handful of dedicated members lead the services. When I skimmed the bulletin, I noticed the mother of a guy I went to school with was giving the benediction. I found it interesting, since she wasn't a member when we attended.

There was no choir, which made singing the hymns a little more free-form than usual, but the service was mostly as I remembered, recounting the Christmas story through Biblical passages. As daylight waned,  we gathered in a big circle around the sanctuary to pass the light among our candles while singing "Silent Night." This is always my favorite part, and I find it quite moving.

The flame started its way around the circle, and the mother of my classmate stepped to the pulpit and began giving "the benediction," getting ahead of things. The service leader reigned her in, and we proceeded with "Silent Night." After we'd mumbled through the second verse -- no one knows the second verse by heart, and it's never printed in the bulletin -- the woman returned to the pulpit.

She began reading a magazine article about the 1968 Christmas Eve message delivered from space by the Apollo 8 crew. In the dim light, her aged eyes struggled to make out the fine print, and she paused repeatedly, trying to decipher the words, as the flames on our candles crept toward our hands. After a couple of excruciating minutes, I thought, "Surely, someone will step in." The worship leader did step in, suggesting everyone extinguish their flames, then let her proceed.

And proceed she did, for 5-10 excruciating minutes, stumbling over words, reading out technical numbers in full detail and pausing for long stretches of time. My emotions swung between agonizing empathy and judgmental frustration. I wanted to crawl out of my skin. Any peace I'd gathered from "Silent Night" vanished.

When she'd finally finished, we moved on to "Joy to the World," still standing in the circle. Since this wasn't my first rodeo, I'd brought my hymnal with me from the pew, but most others were lost. The service leader sent us back to the pews, but no one seemed to know whether to sit or stand. The result was an awkward mix, with most sitting. We were standing, which mortified Sarah. She and I finally convinced Don to sit. 

And then it was over ... and people didn't know whether to stay or go. Slowly, it became clear there was no more, and the sanctuary began emptying. A friend came up and shared how entertaining it was watching the three of us squabble about whether to sit or stand. And that was that.

Mom and George came for dinner. I'd made lasagna that morning and put it in the oven before we left for church, programming the oven to start and bake it to be ready after church. My timing was a bit off, and the cheese on top was bullet-proof, but the rest was yummy. We had cookies for dessert.

As I've said before, Advent isn't as special as it was in Sarah's younger years, when we were busy with church activities (lighting Advent candles, hanging the greens, the Christmas pageant, visits from Santa's elf, and caroling on the green with horse-drawn wagon rides), cut our own tree, and went to Santa's trains then out to eat. But things change, and we're all older. That's life, and I'm okay with it. So much of Christmas is about memories, anyway, and we made some good ones this year.