I have never figured out when the count for the twelve days of Christmas actually starts. I should Google it, I suppose, but if THE day is day 1, I can expect my true love to deliver the requisite gaggle, c/w nesting boxes before the sun sets. I suspect that the family of coyotes in the back forty must be getting quite fed up by now, as obviously they got to the partridge, the calling birds, et les poules francaises before I did. Fun times in the spruce forest.
How was your Christmas? Have you noticed that this becomes the conversation starter for us these days? I think it is because climate change has pretty much ruined "cold enough for ya?", among other things. Mine was better than good, also a poignant time for reflection, gratitude, and celebration. One year ago, in the throes of treatment, there was scarcely enough energy to get to the table, much less join the feasting. This year, most of the energy is back, along with appetite, and enthusiasm and a newfound sense of making the most of things.
This year, on the second Sunday in Advent, we nearly lost my mom. She is, quite simply, the most remarkable woman I know. At 90 years old, on that Sunday, she drove from her farm, where she lives alone, to church. We had a great visit over coffee afterwards, and made a tentative date to get together to make shortbread later in the week. She spent the day writing Christmas letters to her cousins in England, and visiting with my sister, brother and aunt. And she shoveled the snow off her step and walkway. In the night, she woke with what has turned out to be an aortic aneurysm. That is not a good thing. However, this amazing little lady is resting fairly comfortably in hospital, having defied all the statistics, so far. She has given us the most wonderful Christmas gift of her presence we could have asked for. On Christmas night our visit included a lesson on the history of the British monarchy. Last night she was bemoaning the fact that she hadn't been keeping up with events in the Middle East as well as she should have. My mom is awesome. Awe-inspiring.
Before Mom took ill, my youngest sister had the idea that we should put together a scrapbook of pictures and letters to her, something in the fashion of Bantock's "Griffin and Sabine." (Go ahead, Google it. You know you want to.) My page includes a picture of my dad with me in my classroom, as we made a presentation on our journeys in his homeland, Russia, and another of me with the deliverer of the anticipated birds, etc. It also has the following letter. I love you, Mom. Merry Christmas.
Dear Mom,
Sometime last month, Margie had the wonderful idea that we could pool our efforts and make this album for you. And now that you are in the hospital, it becomes a very precious and poignant opportunity for us. I have a series of "did you know" questions for you that I have never shared as much as I could have over the years. So here you go:
Did you know that I always admired your beauty? If I am to be honest, I have envied it, as well. You always have had beautiful hair, a slender figure and a lovely smile. You still do. I try, on purpose, to make you smile, so I can see it.
Did you know that I have always admired your strength? Frankly, if I'd had to raise the Motley Crew, there would have been fewer of us, as some would have been disposed of over the years. But you managed chores, gardening, household, a shoestring budget, lack of convenient appliances, and all the rest of the daily issues, and you were still an amazing parent. You are still an amazing parent. You have taught, inspired and supported me at every turn. I know that your real passion was books and writing, and to a great degree, you sacrificed that, but at the same time, you shared and instilled it in your children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Thank you.
Did you know that I have always admired your capabilities? It wasn't so very long ago that I realized I was still volunteering your services. You could write a poem, make a doll out of a potato and a whistle out of a twig. You could fashion a goblin costume out of who knows what, and bake a great batch of bread. You could teach us a song, make up a story about a little boy falling through a mouse hole, milk a dozen cows and can a winter's worth of fruit. You could make healthy meals, and conserve and reuse practically everything. And I swear, you could teach a stick to read!
Did you know that I have always been in awe of your intellect? How does a person learn and retain, in detail, so much knowledge of literature, history, math, religion, and on, and on? A conversation with you is interesting, stimulating...and humbling. I must study more!
Did you know that I appreciate and wish I could better emulate your generosity of spirit? You manage to make all of your people feel appreciated, loved, and welcome in your life. Without abandoning your own standards, you make us feel worthy. You have a knack for sharing your own thoughts without being judgmental. That is a huge gift, and we are all the beneficiaries.
Did you know that I am so proud of you, Mom? I am grateful to be your daughter, and I love you very much.
