Monday, December 22, 2014

Five Good Things

I like to make them stand together, so I can take their picture. They cooperate because they are great that way, and also I found fresh milk to go with their cookies, because I am great that way. {Alex and Bambi, thank you for dashing to the market for fresh milk. You two are great.}

William, Jern and Myalex, Grant, Bambi and Sarah, Maria, Celine, Corey, James, Alexi, Max, and Clark.

Good Things...

1. Ratatouille delivery. Diana, thank you.

2. The homegrown broccoli bouquet from Robin... it was so huge and bodacious, I put it in a vase!

3. The Christmas cards arriving in the mailbox. Maria and I tape each of them to our wall, and it's wonderful seeing them there.

4. Talking about fish and aquariums with Sarah, and Grant.

5. Facing the new week knowing we have wonderful, thoughtful friends, who make anxious days feel more manageable.

Should I add "No school!?" I'm happy for our scholars, who can sleep in, and see friends, make things, play games, read aloud, and relax. I like to think everyone will have some time this week to do the same, to enjoy their own pace, and some of the things that make their holidays merry and bright.

Sunday, December 21, 2014

This Is Our Winter Solstice, So Far

We had to make some big changes to our Winter Solstice plans, a cancellation, actually. No, we didn't cancel the solstice! We cancelled our plans to celebrate Winter Solstice with our friends. No big fire with a ring of straw bales. No Swedish meatballs, and potatoes. And no kitchen full of friends, hugs, laughter, cheer. The disappointment is keen. We've been making a Viking inspired tent. It's huge. We wanted to recreate The Playa in gingerbread, then burn the Gingerbread Man! For a year I have been smiling every time I thought of our past celebrations, and feeling a happy buzz when I though about this year's celebration. I've come to think of this night as a thank you, a gesture of affection for our friends and family, our holiday gift, and have found that the gift is immediately returned, ten fold, in the kindness and company of our guests.


Feeling the loss of our special occasion, feeling concerned for Geoff... {he's recovering from heart surgery, and suffering some setbacks. We stay quiet on such subjects, perhaps hoping we can make big matters small,} I picked up my camera to try and capture moments in this day, because in spite of our disappointment, in spite of our worries, I found comfort in the activity around me, in our space. Maria, in front of the computer listening to music and dancing. William making a latke breakfast for us. Alex and Max immersed in conversation, plans, reflections, silliness. Mister Foo, being Mister Foo. Our tree is decorated, and it looks darling. Perfect for us. Maria and I made loads and loads of cinnamon and applesauce ornaments... to share with our party guests. And we have loads and loads of bourbon pecan cakes, because we were going to share those, too. Alex with a Dremel. The bird I embroidered while sitting with Diana, sipping tea. Things, sounds, smells, sights, and activities, home. Our comforting, good home. Good things, great things happen here. Geoff has been bringing this relic, an old robot he found, back to life. It's his coping activity. It feels as though a silent prayer is moving through our home, and beneath the discomforts, I feel a steady current of hope, of ease, of assurance that everything will be okay.

{I hope our friends know how dear their messages are to us... the offers of help, the concern, the well wishes. I am trying to answer each one, because they are so helpful, so thoughtful. I am eager to accept all of the prayers, and acknowledge that sometimes we need to let help come. Perhaps, big matters can be made small, when we share the burden, when we accept support.}

As for those ornaments, and the bourbon pecan cakes... we may miss this party, but we really must have a do-over, and share our gifts. Winter is here, and we need the light and cheer of friends!