Friday, January 13, 2017

Picture (im-) Perfect

Mid-January. Sitting by my tree. All tins are emptied of stale cookies and candies. Christmas decorations, tucked in the attic. Pine needles, swept (well, mostly). Holiday greeting cards, opened and filed. Gifts, received acknowledged. Drooping poinsettias, pitched. Sheets, changed. Towels washed, dried and stacked away. Whew! Done.

But one element of clean up is different this year. Like a true tree-hugger, I threw my body against my 16 foot tree laden with white lights and sand dollars and all things sparkly of silver and gold,  begging my husband to let this one icon of Christmas remain a bit longer. Well, the rescue was not really that dramatic, as my  beloved is quite agreeable to putting most anything off until tomorrow, especially if said task involves his climbing beyond the notice on the ladder that cautions one to "not step above this rung". Can't blame him. Anyway, he's a nice guy. So, the imposing white pine remains aglow, quite the delight of my post-Christmas reverie. 



 Today, surprisingly (because it wasn't on my list) I find myself draped on the couch in my jammies with mountains of tissues and a cauldron of hot tea. I am void of energy to do anything except gaze at my tree. The various and sundry cough/sneeze/cold maladies that circled through the revolving door with our loved ones since mid-November have finally come to roost with me. I am smitten with a good old-fashioned cold. I am quite literally  tethered, tied down, and physically unable to bounce into the new year. It's as if all the days of Christmas, for which I prepared so fervently passed quickly with hardly time to embrace the moment. Today, they have come back as a gift, parading through my mind. 

We are richly blessed. We have shared time with all but two of our offspring in the last few weeks. Leisurely, on my couch-day, I again sift through the pile of photos that accompany our Christmas cards. Other familys' photos get larger, I note, when their children marry. Their family pictures include the new spouse, the grand children in growing numbers. Each year, the family visual expands exponentially embracing the newcomers. I am a little sad realizing that our family photo shrinks. Considering our numbers, (we've been blessed exceeding, abundantly!)  it is seldom that we are able  to all gather together. Who wants a picture of hubby and me growing older? There is no complete family photo and therefore no visual that represents "us" as a unit. Does that make us a fractured family? Or are we a collage, a composite, some kind of crazy cartoon? Maybe I can master photoshop and " pretend " we were all in the same place at the same time. On the other hand, is it really about a Christmas picture? Or is it more the words of Peter Marshall penned in a sermon decades ago:
"Let us not spend Christmas or celebrate Christmas, but let us keep Christmas. Let us keep it in our hearts that we may be kept in its hope."

Between sneezes, my heart smiles at memories on this post-Christmas day of reflection. The heart, the heart of Christmas. Of course, that is the point always. As these little subsets of our nuclear family grow and change and go forth, circling through the revolving door, lapping and overlapping one another, let it be that the heart of Christmas is the tie that binds us. Let it be that Emmanuel-God with us, is the glue that encourages, strengthens, exhorts and unites us regardless of geographic proximity. Let His spirit weave and interweave through the generations. We are not less a family because we are scattered. Let the division make us more. Let us make more visible to the world the One whom we celebrate. Lord, multiply Your heart among us. It is from broken loaves and fishes that You blessed and multiplied and fed many. I offer back the pieces of our family to You. 

And here's our crazy collage for the twelve days (plus) of revolving-door Christmas 2016....


















....gathered and scattered






















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