Merry Christmas to All

I rose in the darkness this Christmas Eve morning.  After the utter exhaustion of caring for my three little ones for long days this week as they struggle with the crazed anticipation of pre-Christmas, I am thankful that my daughter-in-law is hosting Christmas Dinner tomorrow.  For almost forty years, Christmas dinner has been at my home, with numbers ranging from ten to twenty family and friends, and although I cherish the memories of those lovely Christmas gatherings, it is time to pass the torch - 

Today my "to-do" list is long, but manageable.  I will be wrapping some gifts, putting together a casserole and preparing sausage stuffing, simmering a delicious soup for my daughter to take to work for her 3:00 shift on Christmas Day, and trying to fit in a short nap to re-energize myself for Christmas Eve mass, and a late-night gathering at my nephew's house.

I love Christmas -- the music, the decorations, the warmth and love of this special season.  However, as deeply as I have enjoyed Christmas past, I have very few specific memories of gifts given and received.  There is one Christmas, however, that stands out from all others.  When I was growing up, we were quite poor -- not the poverty of so many today who cannot afford heat and food, but still with much less money than the average suburban family of the 1950's.  My father worked twelve hour days and still money was tight.  While my parents made sure that Santa always brought us gifts, there was no money left over for my parents to exchange gifts.

My parents had a good marriage, and gifts were not necessary for them to express their love for each other.  This love was expressed on a daily basis with kindness, understanding, and comfort as they faced the struggles of life.  However, there was one Christmas when my father excitedly drove my sister and me to Montgomery Ward one Saturday afternoon.  Montgomery Ward was a large department store near Albany, the shopping hub long before Colonie Center and Crossgates Mall changed the "shopscape" of our area. 

 I remember that long ago afternoon clearly -- my father had some extra money and he was buying my mother a Christmas gift for the first time in my memory.  He knew exactly what he wanted, and we went first to the jewelry counter where he bought her a lovely gold bracelet watch; then it was on to the clothing department, where he picked out a leopard jacket (of course it was fake -- and I don't know if it was in style).  Our final destination was the cosmetics counter, with its enticing scents, where he picked out a bottle of my mother's favorite perfume, Tours Ju Moi (sp??).  My father never stopped smiling that afternoon, and on Christmas morning, my mother was overcome with joy and appreciation.  He placed the beautiful watch on her wrist, and she lovingly caressed the leopard jacket.  I was so excited that my mother finally had gifts to open.  Today, that well-worn bracelet sits in a little wooden jewelry box in my bedroom.  From time to time I open the box and hold it in my hand, feeling the loving spirit in which it was given and worn.

As the Christmases in our lives come and go, we find that some are very special and some are best when they are over.  Sometimes the decorations, the food, the gifts, the gatherings and the spirit are perfect, and other years we are left with a vague feeling of disappointment.  Sometimes our families are all together and harmonious, and sometimes we are grief-stricken with the loss of one more well-loved face at the table.  Christmas is really about the birth of Christ, but to many of us, it also has become about the gathering together of our loved ones.  We look forward to the traditions, the gifts, and the love.  And, once or twice in every lifetime, there is a Christmas that will touch our hearts so deeply that its memory remains clear -- I still can summon the scent of my mother's perfume, and the huge smile on my father's face as he held the soft leopard jacket in his calloused hands on that long ago Saturday at Montgomery Ward.

May this Christmas bring loving memories to you all --
    

Away in a Manger

I was moved to tears as I watched the little angels, shepherds, sheep and wise men gather around Baby Jesus, bringing the age-old story to life for an audience of parents and grandparents.  Both Alivia and Luke attend the Bethlehem Community Church Preschool, and today was their last day of classes before Christmas.  The Nativity Play performed by the four-year-olds was an example of the hard work and love that permeates this preschool all year.  My grandchildren are so fortunate to attend this school -- they are gently nurtured in the ways of the world and the Lord, as they learn basic educational concepts. 

The Christmas season has always been my favorite time of year.  When my own children were young, I cherished the traditions we created.  The weeks before Christmas were filled with cookie baking, decorating, choosing and cutting down a fresh tree, Christmas Eve services in our candlelit church, 5:00 AM  awakenings on Christmas morning, and a large family dinner.  And now, in this latest stage of life, I am reliving the magic of Christmas through my grandchildren's eyes.

My grandchildren are very fortunate that they have large extended families who work very hard to celebrate both long-time and new traditions.  We all realize the tremendous gift of family, and work together to strengthen family bonds.  One afternoon this month, I cut strips of red, green and white construction paper so Luke and Alivia could make chains for their Christmas tree.  We made "family love" chains, writing the names of people they loved on each link of the chain.  They each had so many family members they wanted to include that we had to start doubling up names because we were running out of paper.  And, as a testament to the closeness of our combined families, they aren't really sure which cousins, aunts and uncles belong to whom.  How wonderful to love so many people!!

Lucas and Emma's "other grandmother", Nana, and I planned a cookie baking afternoon last week for Alivia, Luke, Emma, and their cousin Mia.  We had lunch together, and then sat the three older children at the kitchen counter to cut out cookies and decorate them, with little Emma sitting in her highchair to watch.  It was a little crazy for the grandmas, but will be a lovely memory for the little ones.  Next week we are planning another day together.

Alivia's "other grandmother", Nanny, has been a dear friend of mine for over thirty years, and two weeks ago we enjoyed a special Sunday together with Alivia.  First, Alivia helped me create a little tea party for the three of us, with Alivia using a teacup which belonged to her Great-Grandma, whom she never knew, but whose spirit was certainly with us that day.   Then we went on to a pottery painting shop where Alivia painted a ceramic bunny with the help of her artistic Nanny.

While much of Christmas for children is about toys, the long term memories they will carry in their hearts will be the memories of family -- the special, private traditions of their immediate family, and the larger, sometimes crazy memories of their extended family and friends.  They most likely will forget the toys they receive this year, but the love and warmth they feel will fill their souls forever.

This afternoon when I was talking to my daughter-in-law, Lisa, about the nativity play, she told me that when she attended the same preschool twenty-some years ago, she played Mary in the play, and she still remembers it.  I hope Alivia will remember today -- she played an angel, and she certainly looked like an angel to this grandma who sat in the audience with tears in her eyes and love in her heart.

Voices in Our Hearts

As Thanksgiving drew near and the numbers coming for dinner kept increasing, my sister-in-law told me she was planning to use paper plates, even though her mother never approved of using paper plates for special dinners.  I laughed as I heard this, because I, too, hear my mother-in-law's voice in my heart whenever I prepare for a family dinner.  As I set the table, I still think of how much she loved a beautiful table.  She has been gone now for a year, but her voice lives on in all of our hearts. 

It is like this with all the loved ones who have been an important part of our lives.  I am the only one left of my original family of six, yet I carry them in my heart every day of my life, and their voices are part of me.  I hear my grandfather teasing my cousin and me and making us laugh.  My grandmother's rules of "ladylike" behavior still linger with me.  My father's strong voice reassured me through thunder storms and the various fears of childhood.  My mother's gentle voice has guided me through my own years of mothering.  And, I will always hear my sister's laughter as we helped each other through tough times with humor and caring.  There are so many times when I want to call her up to share something funny, and then sadly realize that she is gone.

At lunch yesterday with an old school chum, I listened as he talked about the loving influences of his father and grandfather.   In perfect German, he repeated a phrase his grandfather had often used as they sat at the dinner table -- this phrase lives on in his heart.

While I am fortunate that most of the voices I hear are encouraging and loving, there are some who are not so fortunate.  The voices they hear may be critical or cruel --  these "not-so-good" voices also linger with us.  It is important to remember as we go through life that our words carry tremendous power over our loved ones.  We should strive to be sure the voices our children and grandchildren hear will be uplifting and loving.

I have a strong faith that assures me I will one day be reunited with those I have loved and lost, but in the meantime, these voices in my heart keep them close, perhaps even more so during the holidays when we miss them so much.  As we gathered around the table on Thanksgiving I could hear my mother-in-law's laughter echoing through our conversations.  I could picture her sitting there making sure everything was passed around the table promptly and making sure everyone had second helpings.  And, even as I missed her, I felt her spirit with us on this special day.  I only wish we could have had her delicious stuffing -- no one will ever make stuffing as good as Mom's.
   

Why Am I Doing This????

I stand at the kitchen sink at my son's house, gazing out at the sunny November afternoon.  It has been a crazy morning -- driving Alivia and Luke to preschool and back, with each of them responsible for bringing snack this week for their respective classes required extra trips into the building with bags of snacks and bottled water, while carrying my robust, seven-month old Emma.  Finally, as morning drew to a close, we arrived back home, and I prepared our usual lunch of macaroni & cheese and carrot sticks with dip.  Now, after washing three little faces, changing a very dirty diaper, and settling three little ones into bed for nap, I am cleaning up the kitchen and scrubbing stuck-on cheese from plates and spoons.  

I feel a bit of deja vu -- I have been here before; I am sixty years old, and I spent twenty-seven years raising my own three children.  Why am I doing this again?

I do this so these precious grandchildren will know the constancy of loving arms and the value of their own uniqueness.  Our days are filled with conversations and questions -- I want the answers they hear to reflect our family values and beliefs.  I want them to enter the larger world with an unshakeable sense of their self-worth.  I want them to realize their gifts and also their vulnerabilities, and know that their actions affect others.  

We live in a culture where children are bullied in school and online, and they often do not tell their parents.  I want my grandchildren to know that they can tell us anything, and that we will help them through anything.  I want to instill a deep sense of family bonds.  I listen to their many questions -- and some of them are difficult to articulate so listening requires patience -- but often their questions are deep and require thoughtful answers.  I want these answers to be mine -- not a babysitter's or a day care worker's.  

On the way to school today we had a discussion about Heaven -- were our dog and cat who recently died playing together in Heaven?  And, what would happen if they were playing with other dogs and cats who didn't like them?  And, then, Alivia asked me if, when she grows up and has babies, her own mother will take care of them while Alivia works, because she will be a grandma then.  The questions go on and on -- both Luke and Alivia are deep thinkers.  

I barely finish the lunch dishes, and I hear Luke coming slowly down the stairs -- he hasn't been able to fall asleep -- so, I sit down on the stair, put my arm around him and tell him he has to be really quiet so he doesn't wake Alivia and Emma.  Then I snuggle him in my arms in a cozy chair and read to him as we wait for the others to wake up.      

Most of the time I am bone-tired by evening.  Since the closing of our business and resulting bankruptcy, I don't even have the money to order pizza when I come home exhausted.  People ask why I don't get a real job.  But, I don't think there is anything I could be doing that would be more worthwhile than what I do now.  Each time I look into the eyes of these children, I know I have made the right decision.  Whatever life holds in store for them -- both the good and the bad -- they will have known the love and security of a grandmother's care.  And my words will linger in their hearts forever.

Of Herbs and Other Pleasures

I am snuggled in my chair with the curtains drawn against the blustery October evening; it has been a good day.  In the midst of the chaos in our country and in my own life, I am particularly grateful for the little routines of my days.  A bout of Shingles is reminding me that I must slow down a bit, but that is almost impossible when caring for my grandchildren.  My weeks are crazy.  Today, though, was a bit slower paced, and I spent much of the day tending to the little outside chores that are such a pleasure in the chill October sunshine. 

This morning I brought two rose impatiens plants inside to winter over.  They bloomed their hearts out all summer in the shade of my little corner garden, and I hope they will thrive in my dining room window with its morning sun filtering through lace curtains. 

After spending a couple of hours running errands, I enjoyed several peaceful tasks in the garden.  I bought two new thistle feeders for my finches, chickadees and sparrows.  My old feeders were no match for the driving rains we have endured recently, and the seed was molding.  These new feeders are a bit more weather-proof and should provide dry seed for these tiny little birds all winter.  I filled the larger feeder in the back yard as the mourning doves waited impatiently for me to finish.  As the days grow shorter, the birds are scoping out their winter feeding areas. 

Our black walnut tree provided an abundance of nuts this year.  The squirrels have busily stored them away -- many of them in the attic of our garage, unfortunately -- so they will have a good supply on hand for the long months of winter.

I covered my little pond with netting this afternoon; it sits under a lovely maple tree, and if I don't remember to place the netting, I face the nasty chore of shovelling out leaves in the spring.  Now, the leaves can fall and the pond will stay clear.

My favorite chore of the day was cutting herbs from the garden for drying.  This is a slow process that allows for quiet contemplation.  After washing them I bundle them and hang them from a wire in my tiny kitchen window.  Tonight the kitchen carries the pungent scents of basil, lovage, oregano, rosemary, sage and thyme -- and I look forward to winter afternoons when I will crush their tiny leaves between my fingers and sift them into simmering soups and stews.

It is 10:00 now and my lovely day is drawing to a close.  I am always amazed at the peacefulness that settles in my soul after a day spent in quiet pursuits.  The daily rhythms of life are soothing to me, and it is always a pleasure when I can take the time to savor them, rather than hurry the day away.  I think I will heat up some soup, place it in my large mug, wrap the afghan around my shoulders, and savor one more bit of comfort as I reflect on the loveliness of this day and make plans for a quiet Sunday.

Emma Pats

This year, with the birth of my new granddaughter last spring, I care for two of my grandchildren five days a week, and one four days a week. Alivia is 4; Luke is 3, and Emma is six months old.  I am amazed when I think of how much I accomplished when my own three children were young, because at 60 years old, taking care of these three exhausts me physically and mentally by the end of the day. 
Alivia attends preschool five mornings, and Luke three, so my mornings are busy -- making sure each one eats a healthy breakfast, overseeing toothbrushing, dressing, doing Alivia's hair, and giving Emma a bottle and getting her ready to go fills the hour between 8:00 and 9:00.  Then, I must load them into their car seats and head off to preschool.  We arrive there quickly, and the unloading begins.  Once they are safely deposited at school, with kisses and hugs, Emma and I head home.  She takes a nap, and has a bottle upon awakening, and soon it is time to return to preschool for the pickup routine.

We arrive home about noon, and after unloading everyone from the car, I place Emma in her little bouncer and Alivia and Luke talk or play while I prepare lunch.  We all sit together and talk during lunch -- even Emma sits in her high chair and takes it all in.  Then, it is time to get everyone ready for nap.  If I am fortunate, they are all settled in by 1:00 or so, and I can do the lunch dishes in peace and relax with a book for an hour or so.

After nap, Emma wants another bottle and some cuddling, and Luke and Alivia are ready to play, take a walk, or watch some TV.  Some days they play together very well -- other days they argue and scuffle all day.  Some days Emma is happy and pleasant, and other days she is needy and crying.  Some evenings I am bone-tired.

I started caring for Aliva when she was two months old, and since then my days have been filled with the work and wonder of these precious little ones.  This year I find myself more and more tired -- carrying my little Emma around leaves me with an aching back at the end of most days.  I also spend three days a week at my son's house and two days at my house, so keeping everything straight in my sixty-year old head is not easy. 

But, it is SO worth it.  Today I picked Emma up and she patted my shoulder.  At first I thought it was just a flutter of her hand, but each time I picked her up today, she patted me.  Later in the afternoon, I was holding her and Luke on my lap, and she reached over and patted Luke's back.  What a joy!!  How wonderful to be with her this week when she takes this new step in her growth --

In this world where there is so much turmoil, and in my own life where there is so much stress and uncertainty, I am so grateful that I can be here for these firsts with my grandchildren.  Emma pats and my heart soars -- my precious little girl!!

Aging in Place

I rose slowly from my soft bed this morning and slipped into my well-worn winter robe for the first time since the heat of summer.  The air is crisp and autumn-like, and I hurriedly put the dogs out for their morning duties and settled into my chair with a steaming mug of coffee and the Saturday newspaper.  How much I love these daily routines.

This year as I care for my three grandchildren, I am dividing my time between my son's beautiful new home and my own house -- such a striking contrast.  My son and daughter-in-law lovingly designed their home with it's large open space for entertaining and lovely windows which welcome the sunlight.  It is a home of light and the peacefulness of uncluttered spaces.  I love the bright kitchen with its large island and mullioned windows over the corner sink.  However, at the end of the day I am welcomed home by the comforting arms of my old house, with its dark coziness. 

I wonder about the concept of "aging in place" that has become a possible solution to baby boomers as we grow old.  Certainly, there are wonderful new condos and apartments on the market for seniors, with all the modern amenities so sought after -- granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, social activities.  However, I question whether I would ever feel "at home" in those luxurious surroundings.  I have lived in my house for almost forty years -- I know its loveliness and its scars, and find great comfort in its sameness.  I love my neighborhood -- how boring it would be to be surrounded by people of my own age all the time.  I love the sound of children playing in the street, and the music and laughter of teenagers.  I hope I will be healthy enough and financially able to "age in place" right here -- in the home that holds the echoes of my own family and friends, the home that feels like an old friend to this grandma who finds herself turning that corner into old age.  Each night as I turn out the lights and make my way in darkness to the stairs, I realize I know the terrain of this house with my eyes closed; I know it by heart, and this is where I want to spend the rest of my days, Lord willing.