Reflections from Christmas Present

It is almost "all but a memory" now. Christmas Present will soon be Christmas Past and I can carry on living my happy little life in the moment. The place I most like to be.

My trip to see Mom couldn't have went much better.

It was summer-like driving conditions, in winter weather. No drifting snow, no ice, no worries. It was a very carefree and easy drive.

The visit was very much the same.

I thought my stay may feel too long without the added company of one or the other of my adult children along. But it felt like the perfect amount of time with an ideal amount of distractions.

Mom cooked a turkey meal and preparing for that filled in the cracks of the "day before". Preparing a meal doesn't even feel like work when you divide the job in two. She filled her table for six and commented that she had enough dinnerware for "two more". And I quietly thought of how much my family would have enjoyed sharing that meal.

The day after the big meal was spent hanging out at the mall. A light breakfast and a stroll down the mall just looking at things and buying nothing was a most leisurely way to pass the time. A few more stops were made before we took a coffee break on our way home. I'm not certain how many hours we passed out of the house but it felt like the perfect amount of time.

The exhaustion that seemed to wash over Mom in preparation for her big meal was replaced by an energy that seemed to come from a place of "a job well done". She gathered and fed her family a Christmas meal and her work was done.

I had the chance to see a few friends and we managed to pack in a day's worth of visiting into the hours we had at our disposal. These friends go back so many years and we share so much history. We have walked such parallel paths, we are kindred spirits and our friendship is one of the sisterhood variety.

No gifts were exchanged, other than the assortment of my "favorite things" I packed up in a plain, brown bag and gave to Mom. In reality, I didn't need that package at all. All I had to do was pick up what I noticed Mom needed and listen for cues as to what she wanted while I was there and that was truly my gift. She really, really doesn't like shopping. But I don't think she would mind a little grocery/household elf to survey her house at night and just fill it with what is lacking so she could find it when she needed it. I made an attempt to be that "elf" and it felt good. It felt right.

I made my way home and the long road to Mom's became shorter as I made my way back. Thoughts of my visit wafted in and out and through my mind. No one thought sat still. They moved and shifted and shifted like the landscape I drove past.

I returned home and all was well. I opened the door and our two cats were there to greet me and my youngest was hot on their tails. The cats did their "I didn't miss you!" but "Where in the world were you?!" and "I'm mad at you" but "I still love you" routine. They didn't need me. My youngest tended to all their physical and emotional needs in my absence. I'm just the person who buys the cat food and cat litter.

I am the little grocery/household elf in this house. I am appreciated as needs are quietly fulfilled, supplies are replenished and more often than not what we need is at our fingertips.

Our life and household runs pretty smoothly. So smoothly, I can walk away for a few days and these guys just pick up my slack and when I return, I just have to pick up where I last left off and carry on.

I have a very good life to come home to. I think of one of my sister-friends whose life is in a complete state of upheaval, renewal, loss, change and evolution as I sit here and write. I think of my other friend who described the scene in her home one short hour before we met for supper. I looked at her in amazement that she walked out the door like everything was perfect in her world. She just replied, "That's just a day in my life..."

I lead such a "bubble wrapped" existence. All is calm, all is bright, I am surrounded by people who value me, believe in me and support me when I'm down. I work for and with people who appreciate me. There is so much contentment within the core of my being. I have strong bonds with the people within my world.

I found myself reflecting on the relationships I was unable to sustain throughout my adult years and I am starting to see the common thread. At one time I gave myself away. I gave all I had until I was empty. When I was empty, the relationships died. These days I don't give myself away. I share what I have. I do my best to plant what has "gone to seed" in my life and hope those seeds can grow in someone else's garden.

I don't give until I am empty any more. I keep trying to keep myself nourished so I can continue to share what I have. My nourishment comes from a place of quiet.

I have one more day to push through and then I can nourish myself. And our cats. Perhaps my son will join us.

"Jet" (our young and "I'll take all you have to give" cat) just tried to jump up on my lap a few minutes ago. "Tomorrow", I said to him. Tomorrow, we will have a cat day. Tomorrow, we will fill up on all things light and easy and simple and just breathe in the same air. Tomorrow, I will be still. I will make turkey soup with the turkey bones Mom sent home with me. It will be a "Turkey Soup for the Soul" kind of day.

Take some time to nourish your soul today. I am stealing this time this morning when I should be working on something else. It all works out in the end. If I don't "feed myself" I have nothing to give. I am hopeful that by taking this time, the one project left undone will come together with ease when I return from my work day this afternoon.

One more hard day to go. Just one ...

It Wasn't Such a Blue Christmas After All

 I was given a bouquet of yellow, white and blue flowers a few weeks ago. I looked up one day and happened to notice they looked pretty bad so I went to throw them out yesterday morning and I realized how vibrant the blue ones were. So I culled the other flowers and three blue ones remained.

"It is a blue Christmas for so many" were the first words that came to my mind.

I sat still with the thought and let it marinade. I didn't do much with it but just sat still and thought of those who may be looking back on "Christmases past" and remembering and missing and longing for  just a little bit of the way life used to be.

While I was at it, I fast tracked through Christmases past, in my own mind. I didn't stop and linger anywhere for very long but the one Christmas that stood out in my mind was the first year I didn't spend with my own family. I remember the emptiness I felt, when I thought of what I was missing. 

As Christmas evolved throughout the years, it has become a little bit "less" with each passing year. This year, it was the least of all Christmases but it still shone like the north star and will probably be one that stands out in my mind as one of the best.

The last time I went out to see Mom, she announced that she thought this would be the year she would "cancel Christmas". Those are not her words. I can't remember her words. But when there are children and grand children and great grandchildren it is a very good idea to put a "cap" on an age when the gift giving comes to an end. Since Mom never did that, it seemed to me that she just thought "this year" would be a very good place to start.

I told this to my Second Son and he was in total agreement. I was too, because the idea of giving something that no one really needs or wants is not high on my list of things I enjoy doing. And so began our Christmas Expectations of 2015. 

It was the year of no expectations. It is very easy to meet or beat what happens when you set your expectation level at nil. This sounds dreary and depressing but it was not that way at all.

I still "gave" what I have to give at this time of year. "Words" are where it is at for me. It is what I do, how I share and it is the gift I share when I have them in me to give. I wrote my Christmas cards, I put together my daycare yearbook, I wrote notes of gratitude to those who unknowingly make a difference in my world and I was done.

Except I wasn't. 

I placed a white envelope for each of my sons in our Christmas tree and wrote them a note about what I did in lieu of a gift for them. Not only did it give them something to do while I cleaned up after our Christmas meal, but it got a quiet nod of approval from my Second Son. 

But, as my mom has often said, "Charity begins at home" and I know how much difference a little unexpected cash can make. So I suppose I took away from the spirit of the white envelope, when I handed each of my sons a red envelope which contained a little bit of something "extra" for them. 

We didn't have gifts to open this year. Perhaps because our gift was in opening up a Christmas morning, much like any other morning. We woke up to life as we expect it to be. Life may not be easy all of the time but when you wake up to a peaceful life, with a heart that is beating a good, strong beat and a body that does everything you need it to do, that is a gift like no other.

This was the year I cooked for my family again. I can't remember the last time I cooked a Christmas meal. My Second Son took over that tradition for several years and it has been so long since I took the reins and actually cooked, I knew it was time.

I dried out our roast, our potatoes were a little "off", the Yorkshire pudding could have been cooked a tad longer and all I said before we sat down to eat is "About the potatoes ... I know". My son hates it when I go on and on about this, that and the other thing that is wrong about my cooking. So I just had to say "I know", so they knew I knew it was not a perfect meal. But my Second Son ate up his meal, told me that if I made Yorkshire pudding, it would make his year. And when the meal was over, he tactfully said, "It tastes just the way I remember it!" 

We played a rousing game of Monopoly, shared a lot of laughter, my Second Son videoed a "Monopoly Moment" and sent it via "Snapchat" to Oldest Son, halfway across the world (while he is vacationing in Bali) and for the moments they "chatted" our whole family sat together at our kitchen table.

We had our "midnight snack" by 6:00, then retired to the living room where we chatted for a little while. We tried to call Mom, to bring her into our day but she was talking with her sister so I called her later. 

My son left by 7:00 and we laughed at how we fast-tracked our way through an entire Christmas day in four hours. 

Four light and easy hours, sitting around a table, eating, playing, laughing and chatting. My Second Son threw his hands up into the air and said (something to the effect of), "Some people spend all day doing what we just did in four hours!" 

It is a gift to spend time with those you want to spend your time with. It makes the quietness of the "before" and the reflection of the "after" a little sweeter.

It is those who are missing "those they wish they could be spending time with" or missing the plain old ordinary life they used to wake up to who were in my thoughts. 

Waking up with a light heart, a content and peaceful life and a body that does what you need and want it to do is a gift. Any day of the year. 

Giving Until it Hurts

I did my part and donated towards a worthy cause yesterday, but it didn't "hurt". I know my giving is coming from the right place when it stings a little.

I wrote a little blog about it over at MyKawartha: "Giving Until it Hurts".  http://www.mykawartha.com/blogs/post/6205892-giving-until-it-hurts/

Inspired *UPDATED* $1,000,000 raised in 31 hours!

I don't have any of my own words right now. Please read these instead:

Europe is facing the biggest refugee crisis since World War II. People are drowning in tiny rubber rafts, freezing on cold beaches. They are walking for miles, for days—carrying their babies on their backs and in their arms—only to be met by fences, border guards and seizures. Fleeing from a terrible war to seek a peaceful future for their children has left them in danger and without country. Read more at ~ http://momastery.com/blog/2015/12/22/darkest-day-bring-the-light/

I am reading about the refugee crisis and watching/reading about the work Glennon Doyle Melton, Cheryl Strayed, Brené Brown, Elizabeth Gilbert and Rob Bell are doing. They have started The Compassion Collective, and set a goal of raising one million dollars to bring aid, support, comfort and care to refugees in Europe. Within almost 24 hours, they raised $500,000.

As of two hours ago, they had reached the $750,000.00 mark. One hundred percent of the money they raise goes directly into the hands of those who are helping the refugees in Germany, Serbia, France and Greek Isles (read more here: http://momastery.com/blog/2015/12/18/saving-lives/)

Here is a direct quote from Doctor Linda, a volunteer working on the ground in Lesvos :

“There are thousands of children here and their feet are literally rotting, they can’t keep dry, they have high fevers and they’re standing in the pouring rain for days on end. You have one month guys, and then all these people will be dead.”

And this: “The mamas are standing at the gates asking the guards to let them and their children in, or to kill them and put them out of their misery because that would be more bearable. Because they are watching their babies slowly starve and freeze to death.” 

I started following the work of "The Compassion Collective" yesterday morning and donated the maximum they accept ($25.00). I woke up and read some more this morning and donated on behalf of my three children and my mom."We" don't need things. $25.00 (times five) can make a difference on the other side of the world.

$3 will buy a pair of gloves, $4 will purchase warm blanket. $2 buys a warm hat. It’s $5 for socks, $29 dollars for a sleeping bag, $33 for a warm coat.

A baby sling for a family costs $25.

The floodlights and heaters project costs $328 a day. It designed to light up cold waters at night—to provide for lamps so that rescuers can find people in the water when they cry out, and warm tents with heaters in them so that refugees warm up and get dry after they arrive.

Building a shelter for a vulnerable family in Calais costs around $300, and feeding all the refugees on the Greek island of Samos on meal a day for a month costs $50,000. It costs around $110 to feed a family of five for a month.

Twenty five dollars doesn't even "hurt". It doesn't seem like enough, so I shared links on my Facebook page in the hope that one more person would read it and feel the same as I did. The whole premise behind the work of these brave warriors who have done all the leg work, research and found the best way to help, is that they "want to raise one million dollars through small gifts with great love" ~Glennon Doyle Melton

It amazes me to think that the positive forces of the world can come together and make this happen. I am awestruck. 

From Elizabeth Gilbert's Facebook page:

This is where your money is going:

BLANKETS.

BABY CARRIERS.

LIFE JACKETS.

FOOD.

WARM CLOTHING.

FLOOD LIGHTS (for pulling people out of the water at night)

LAMPS.

WOODEN SHELTERS.

LIFE.

This money is going to to life — to save human lives.

Like: IMMEDIATELY, in real time. You have no idea how efficient these people are, who we are working on the ground, helping out. They're amazing.

Those of us who are warm and dry and safe and well-fed must show up for those who are cold and wet and endangered and hungry. That's a rule of life. Every ethical and religious and spiritual tradition in the world agrees on that rule.

It is impossible to comprehend what these people are going through. I cannot even begin to think of this happening in our country. Ever. I feel safe. I hope this is not an illusion. 

Within the safety, warmth, comfort and security of my home, I sat at my computer this morning, tapped a few buttons and donated enough to buy gloves, a warm blanket, a warm hat, socks, a sleeping bag, a warm coat and a baby sling. I didn't even need to get dressed to do so. It didn't even hurt. 

This year, the Christmas story isn’t ancient history. The Christmas story is unfolding in real time. Once again—the world is deciding if we will feed and clothe and love little ones with God inside of them. ~ Glennon Doyle Melton

**UPDATE!! Love Wins!!**

Daycare Wonderland

I am working on little sleep and even less time, so here is one more poem/song from my 2015 Daycare Yearbook. As always, the job was a big one but one of the most rewarding accomplishments of the festive season. A year end recap is good for all of us. The good stuff tends to sift to the top and that is exactly what happened. Again. 

Daycare Wonderland

Children sing
I am listening
Winter's here,
Noses glistening.
Oh dear, what a sight,
They're happy despite
Cold season in our daycare wonderland.

Gone away, off to preschool 
Here to stay, is our new girl.
They sing their new songs,
As we hum along
Changes in our daycare wonderland.

When it's mild we can build a snowman
We'll pretend we're making Olaf too.
He'll say are you Elsa?
We'll say "Yes Man!"
And we can play with you
While you're all new.

Later on
They'll conspire
And they say, "We're not tired!"
But they fall asleep
They make not a peep
Resting in our daycare wonderland.

My ears ring
No one's listening
It's okay
All's forgiven.
When spring comes around,
We're happy and bound
Outside in our daycare wonderland.

Gone away, is the snow time
Here for now, is the spring time
We sing and we play
Outside all the day
Summer in our daycare wonderland.

In the summer we can play out longer
And pretend we're Sweeties, Mommies too.
We'll have lots of fun with everybody
Come back each day and start it all anew!

When we play,
ain't it thrilling?
With our friends, so fulfilling
We'll climb and we'll play, throughout the whole day
Playing in our daycare wonderland
Playing in our daycare wonderland.

**Inspired (stolen) by "Winter Wonderland"**

Little Drummer Girl

It's been a long day. All my thoughts are in rhymes (oh, the poems I have written this season). This one has been sitting in a state of incompleteness since I found out my brother already bought the gift I thought I could give my mom. I finally finished it tonight:

Come she told me, pa rum pum pum pum 

She had no Christmas tree, pa rum pum pum pum 

I'm not sure who will come, pa rum pum pum pum 

To keep us company, pa rum pum pum pum, 

rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum,

So to honor Her, pa rum pum pum pum, 

I will come. 

Oh, dear mother, pa rum pum pum pum 

I have not shopped for you, pa rum pum pum pum 

I have no gift to bring, pa rum pum pum pum 

But I could buy some wings, pa rum pum pum pum, 

rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, 

What shall I bring for you, pa rum pum pum pum, 

When I come? 

My mom nodded, pa rum pum pum pum 

The clock ticked and kept time, pa rum pum pum pum 

I'd bring my sons for Her, pa rum pum pum pum 

That would best for Her, pa rum pum pum pum, 

rum pum pum pum, rum pum pum pum, 

Then She smiled at me, pa rum pum pum pum 

Me and my sons.

A Do-Over Kind of Daycare Day

Remnants of a rather challenging daycare day were awaiting me this morning.

I got up at 5:00 a.m. so I would have a chance to scrub down the couch that needed to dry out before I could even begin the process of cleaning. Hopefully three towels worth of "blotting", a generous sprinkling of Arm & Hammer Super Washing Soda, covered up with a beach towel in between all the cracks and crevices of the two cushions and back of the couch, did their job of wicking up any moisture left in a urine-soaked couch last night.

I followed this up by scrubbing down the infected affected areas with a 50/50 solution of hot water and rubbing alcohol and hoping this does the job so the couch may survive yet another "day at daycare".

I did what any mother would do, to test the effectiveness of my work thus far. I unzipped the couch cover, felt the inside of the cushion for any sign of wetness and then nuzzled my nose into said "insides" and did a smell test. I am not a cat, nor do I have a black light to support my theory, but this fifty five year old nose has given it the go ahead. The couch has been saved to face another day.

My first thought yesterday afternoon was "We NEED a new couch!" But thirty minutes into the blotting and washing of said couch and child, my saner and wiser inner voice revealed the true answer "WHY?! Because this is just going to happen again and again and again. You run a daycare. Remember??"

Is it really any wonder that I want to turn one area of our home into a daycare-free zone??

I wondered why I am loving my new "suite" downstairs so much. I think a lot of it has to do with the fact that I can sit down at the end of my day on a couch that has no trace of children's urine, vomit, saliva nor nose juices. Sure, I may be covered in cat hair and who knows what "dog history" this lovely little portion of a sectional couch may have in its history. But it doesn't scream "daycare" to me.

******************************************************************************

I walked away from this and came back with the memory of what was happening when my fully trained, almost three-year-old, with a full bladder was doing when this happened. I think she was annoyed because she didn't get the first turn on the iPad. She was sitting beside her buddy, waiting for her turn when "this" happened. Instead of getting a turn on the iPad, she got a bath and a time out while I cooled off (honestly, I think time outs are for the sake of the care-givers). All I can wonder is "Who won that round?"

Oh, the joys of running a daycare. There are a lot of them but yesterday was a "day" of spilt milk, dropped bowls of Alphagetti, running in circles and much challenge.

When is it going to be summer again?