Growing up in one of the poorest parts of Dallas, one of the highlights of our Christmases in the ’70’s was driving around looking at all the lights in Highland Park, a wealthy suburb about one mile long.  They strung lights in enormous canopies over 100 year old trees and to say it was glorious would be an understatement.  Cars were bumper to bumper as we inched along and admired the elaborate displays of giant nutcrackers flanking majestic doorways, Santa Claus outside on his sleigh complete with all his reindeer, and candles illuminating every window in huge two and three story homes.  We were never jealous as we huddled in our station wagon with no heat; we were only grateful to all be together celebrating the season.  I always wondered about the families inside; I was sure they did not have a care in the world.  It is ironic that for YEARS we drove by my future husband’s grandmother’s house.  I wonder if we ever passed by each other as children.  How could I possibly have known that one day I would be a part of Christmases there?  I wonder if God wasn’t watching it all unfold with a smile.  The American Clergyman Roy L. Smith once said, “He who has not Christmas in his heart will never find it under a tree.”  I am so thankful to have more, but not to NEED it.  Isaiah predicted the coming of Christ and with His birth came the salvation of all who receive Him.  Nothing is greater than God’s gift to us, and no woman was greater than the Blessed Virgin Mary who answered God’s call without hesitation.  It was a Christmas foretold.

I love Christmas lights … particularly on trees.  I do not believe there is anything quite more magical.  Putting them up, however, is a completely different story.  I remember one year I tried to do it alone.  I decided while I was at it to treat myself to my favorite “cup of cheer” (a 7 & 7 with a lime) and the lights were looking terrific!  When I got cold I would go in and refill my glass.  After a total of around four my work was finished and I stood back, looked up, and admired my handiwork.  The lines were so meticulous, so straight; so precise.  The OCD part of me rejoiced.  I had wrapped our thick trees out front to perfection with nary a hitch.  In fact I was not even cold anymore.  I decided to call it a night feeling very proud of all I had accomplished.  The next morning I went out to survey my hard work.  <long, stunned pause>  Well, the bottom of the trunks were indeed perfection, strung tightly and evenly across the rough bark.  But as I began to look higher I noticed with no small amount of chagrin they were lopsided and loose; it was as if some drunk had strung them.  Horrified, I decided perhaps it might be better if we called upon professionals to string the lights the next year.  So my rule now is sticking to “Christmas cheer” within the warm confines of our home while deft men with high ladders get the job done of making the outside of our home look like the holidays.  The English poet Thomas Tusser once said, “At Christmas play and make good cheer, for Christmas comes but once a year.”  God bless you whatever your faith may be, one and all.

Looking at this stained glass at a memorial for a dear friend, I have been thinking how it resembles life.  We are all made up of a complex mosaic of experiences and people we have encountered.  Some pieces are bigger and take up more space; others may be small but their color shines brightly.  Some are easy to forget and others never leave.  Some people we encounter in life are givers; others are takers.  Some you can count on and others you cannot.  Some wish you well and some don’t.  Some always bring the sun, allowing your colors to shine brighter.  Others always seem to carry dark clouds, trying to making your light gloomy.  Some hold you together and some can crack you to pieces.  And some we take for granted until it’s too late.  We get so busy with our own lives and we tell ourselves we’ll visit tomorrow.  Then tomorrow comes and we still do not make the time.  This woman whose celebration of life and faith I was attending was a true friend.  I am ashamed to say I do not believe I was as good of a friend to her.  I did not mean to stop visiting; I had an ailing mother and newborn baby plus my work and I was overwhelmed.  Now I am writing this and she will not get to see it.  I witnessed a chapel full of loving friends who laughed at her candor, admired her adventures, and loved her for her genuine warmth and hospitality.  The wonderful thing about faith is the belief that we will see those whom we love again one day.  The American author Leo Buscaglia said, “Death is a challenge.  It tells us not to waste time … it tells us to tell each other right now that we love each other.”  I resolve to become more caring of others and follow in her example.  I want to be like her; a treasured piece in someone else’s mosaic.

When I was little there was nothing I loved more than carting tiny toy animals around.  To this day I still have my little plastic turtles I got from the tops of cupcakes.  Oh how I loved them — and still do.  My little one has just discovered the joys of pocket pets which her daddy bought her.  They come in a “blind bag” (to force you to buy a gazillion if your kiddo wants to collect them) and with a tiny little pet carrier.  As fate would have it, she got an Alaskan Malamute named Yukon and a very sneaky Spaniel named Sadie.  She had them less than an hour when Sadie broke free from her carrier, landing somewhere in the yard.  Of course it was dark by then.  My beloved used his iPhone flashlight trying to find her but with no luck.  Our little one cried herself to sleep and we promised her it would somehow be OK.  Early the next morning I got up to look for the runaway Spaniel.  Marrying a man who would lose his own appendages if they were not attached to his body has taught me a thing or two about the need for patience.  Growing up my daddy infused a type of methodicalness in my every day life that I employed out of habit.  I began making a careful sweet from up to down and left to right.  My Baby Doll came outside in the windy chill and asked anxiously if I had found her.  “Not yet” I said with my head tucked down.  She then asked if we could pray as she pressed her little hand in mine.  We said a short simple prayer and I told her to go back inside while I kept looking.  JUST as I was about to give up, I saw my little one’s precious toy.  There she was nestled among the leaves staring straight at me with her bright blue eyes.  The Canadian writer Douglas Coupland said:

“There are three things we cry about in life, things that are lost, things that are found, and things that are magnificent.”

For my little one, this tiny pet qualified as all three.  See if you can spot the little Spaniel pictured above.  I swung my baby doll around and around as she giggled with glee.  Sadie had spent the night out in the cold but seemed glad to be reunited with Yukon and home safe; lost and found.

Two years and two days ago I lost my best friend, and the most beautiful woman I have ever known; my mother.  Oh how I miss her.  She wore the same mantle of gentleness about her my grandmother carried as well.  I am thankful she at least got to live to see the man I would marry (whom she ADORED) and spend three years with her precious namesake, our daughter.  One of our shared stories was that after Daddy passed she and I continued the tradition of driving to Santa Fe every year.  And every year, like clockwork, I would invariably get pulled over coming home; ahem, several times.  My daddy had warned me tiny Texas towns were speed traps and to always slow WAY down.  But it is an all day drive from Santa Fe back to Dallas; when you’re on an endless stretch of road and it’s not night so you don’t have to worry about animals …  Mama and I were in a hurry each year to get to Medicine Mound for dinner at this restaurant we loved before they closed.  We always went home on Memorial Day and yes, I see the recipe brewing.  The same darn cop pulled us over EVERY SINGLE TIME.  One would think I would have known better but nope; I just kept getting busted.  We were so familiar to him that one year I had changed cars from a Trans Am to a Land Rover and he not only asked what happened to the other car, he wanted to know how I got that one.  So my mother shoots off, “We STOLE it!” and the officer leaned his blond head into her window and said, “What did you say?”  I will never forget my little mother stuck her head in like a turtle and then said again, only much more quietly and ending on a question, “We stole it?”  The officer just laughed while he issued us our annual ticket.  After we drove off I told her we could have wound up in some type of country jail with no one to help get us out.  Mama said she just couldn’t help it because he’d made her so darn mad.  She was something.  She was sweet but sassy, hilarious, and incredibly smart.  The American writer Dr. Seuss once said, “Don’t cry because it’s over.  Smile because it happened.”  My mother had the most serene smile and I will never forget my delight in college upon learning that her first name meant “The Smiling One” in Aleutian.  No name could have been more fitting.  When I close my eyes I can still see her tiny, freckled hands and hear her soft voice.  My beautiful mother; The Smiling One.

I am borrowing this from a pedicab driver we had in France.  He said he had the best job in the world because all of Paris was his office.  And he was right.  I snapped this at a stop sign on my way to my first round of the morning.  The sun was just rising which is why the light is faint.  My car is my office.  I have worked on Black Friday every year since I was fifteen.  The difference is I now have the privilege and pleasure of visiting with and caring for animals.  I love my job and do not resent working essentially every day of the year.  Some days are more stressful than others but then that is just life.  Growing up we never had any money to spend so Black Friday just doesn’t mean shopping to me.  I do not like the crowds, the battle for parking, and the frenzied feel of it all.  The Scottish singer Annie Lennox once said, “I will go out of my way to avoid the shopping crowds and the extreme consumerism – I hate all that.”  For those who love to hit the stores AFTER Thanksgiving day, enjoy!  As for me, I am going to try and relax a little, and I will be spending some of my time admiring the view from my office.