Believe!

 

I have been in an odd mood this holiday season.  On the one hand, I have totally enjoyed decorating my cocoon for the holidays.  Shelves have been glittered, silver polished, apothecary jars ordered, received, filled with baubles, "snow" and wee Whimbles and the most magical ladders ever.  Friends have been consulted re: menus and eggnog, chilled or room temperature?  Answer: "Chilled with bourbon, but after the first batch it doesn't matter."  I have baked cookies, cakes and pies, oh, my!  Brownies regularly scent my nest.  My neighbors' little girl says my house always smells like cookies or cake.  Having a cat, I am always paranoid about that.  I have a friend that tells me I have traumatized Smokey because when I am home, the minute she does her "business" I am grabbing that liner, tying it up and putting in a new liner and fresh litter.  So, when that little girl comes over and sniffs and says "Your house smells 'deeeeeelishus'!" it makes my day.  I love that child.  Decided to forego the real tree this year, in favor of the Father Fir Trees from Most Magical Wonderful Enchanting Fairy GodMother Martha, as it would have taken major rearranging to have the tree and there has been no time.  Next year, there will be even more Father Fir Trees, my goal is to have a whole forest! And there WILL be a real tree, with lots and lots of tiny white lights.  This year though, it's the Father Fir Trees and lots and lots of vanilla-scented candles in my mercury glass votive holders and my Flameless Candles (God bless my friend Kathie who first told me about them and QVC for carrying that line) in my mercury glass apothecary jars, they are on timers and greet me every night when I get home, with a welcoming warm glow.  So, yeah, I have enjoyed holiday decorating as much as ever and the season.  Have developed an alarming tendency to burst out with "Fa la la laaaaa! Deck the halls with boughs of holly!" at the office, where my singing and holiday spirit are not really appreciated.

On the other hand, in the midst of enjoying all the decorating, baking, I will remember Sandy Hook and a shadow falls.  I waffle between sadness, guilt, missing my loved ones now long gone, but still with me in spirit.  Guilt ensues, a tangle of emotions. I believe in seizing joy, yet how can I seize it, enjoy the season when those families are dealing with this terrible, wrenching loss.  Those little faces are forever etched in my mind.  As I am sure they are on most everyone's.  My panic attacks are back, they have been somewhat held at bay, but they are always there, fluttering at the edge of consciousness.  Sometimes I am hit with an overwhelming, paralyzing fear.  The other morning it took me way, way longer than usual to open my front door, step onto my porch and head to the office.  But I did it and drove in, sweaty palms, hives and all.  Little by little the fear subsides.  To return again when least expected.  I pray.  Prayer, faith and friends are my lifelines.

Last week was particularly difficult, stress at work, difficult people to deal with. Miss Smokey Noelle seems to pick up on my mood, cuddling close when I am most ... befuddled by the way people act. I call her my Little Heart Healer, she offers furry cuddles and soft purrs that soothe my jangled nerves.  Often the words of Elie Wiesel came to my mind about indifference being the opposite of love, of joy, of caring. I had to keep reminding myself that just because the other side is being a horse's rear end, I should not retaliate.  I should, instead, think they must have a reason for being a horse's rear end.  As the saying goes, everyone is fighting some kind of battle, who knows what battle they are dealing with, so even though I feel like smacking them across the miles, I should smile, take a deep breath and put my best foot forward.  Although, forgive me Father, sometimes I wish that best foot was wearing a sharply-pointed shoe the better to kick their shins with (via long-distance).  And, yes, I realize that yelling at them "Just PLEASE make up your minds!" is not a viable option.  But, oh, it is a tempting one!

Sometimes when I see people being rude, deliberately cruel, when I see homeless people, I wonder how they got there, to that point.  What ultimately broke them.  Because at one point we were all innocent, trusting, happy.  Was it a chain of events leading up to the final break in their spirit, was it a cataclysm in their life.  There is a gentleman I see mostly everyday on the way home, he lives under an overpass.  He has a very military bearing, stands straight and tall, he wears an Army green jacket.  Sometimes I see him talking and gesturing as if having a very involved conversation with someone.  Others he is sweeping the sidewalk.  I've seen a car pull up several times, a man gets out and gives him a take-out bag.  I wonder how he got to the point of being homeless and living under an overpass.  What he was like as a little boy, what kind of childhood he had.  There used to be a homeless lady at the intersection where I exit the expressway every night, I would always wave her over. I asked her name and she said it was Mary.  I wanted to write about her.  I asked her if she would like to have dinner with me at IHOP and she said they wouldn't let her in there. I told her I know the people there (it is one of the few places I will venture from my nest to visit on weekends), it would be fine.  That was the last time I saw her.  Maybe she thought I was being nosy, I don't know.  But I sure would have liked to hear her story.  Her face was weathered, deep lines etched at her eyes and mouth, but her eyes were bright blue and would light up when we chatted.

Anyway, this weekend I wavered between happy and sad.  Started out as a Pajama Day on Saturday and turned into a Pajama Weekend.  I was watching the original Miracle on 34th Street and just fell in love with it all over again.  I re-read an email from a friend about a letter to a child from its parents, explaining who and what Santa Claus is, the magic, the joy and the love.  On the internet I read about a young family out celebrating their wedding anniversary with their two little boys, suffered an accident and the husband and father died, how their community has rallied around them making sure those two boys have their Christmas, surrounding the boys and their mom with love and support, prayers.  I read more about Sandy Hook.  What has struck me time and time again has been the absence of bitterness, the huge outpouring of love and support, the way the families have spoken with such love about their little ones, such love.  They all speak about being grateful for having had them in their lives, even for such a short time, about how the world is a better place for having had them in it, about how funny and kind and mischievous they were.  Instead of bitterness, there is grace and faith, such powerful, beautiful faith and grace.

There is still good in the world, in the middle of darkness there is still hope, there is still light.  Even though it tries, darkness will not prevail.  Light overcomes it, reaching into the darkest corners, filling them with peace and gentle joy.  Read a post on one of my favorite blogs, Rx for the Soul, written by a mom about her little boy wanting to return to school, he had been scared, had pulled out his Bible and found words of comfort, no longer scared, he told his parents he wanted to go back to school, be with his friends, he knew he would be safe, because it said so in the Bible.  She wrote: "He had taken his bible and looked at a section it brings called 'verses to look up when…'. He looked in the one titled “scared” and looked up Joshua 1:9 - Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go'."  Pretty powerful proclamation of faith from a nine-year old.  Read another email from a friend attaching a poem about Sandy Hook, reworking the words of "The Night Before Christmas" and ending with "And I heard Him proclaim as He walked out of sight, 'In the midst of this darkness, I AM STILL THE LIGHT'" I thought, yes, You are. Enough of this being scared, enough with the panic attacks.  I pulled out my colored chalks, grabbed my big blackboard from my Most Marvelous Magical Faboo Fleaing Fairy GodMother and wrote Believe!

I Believe.  I Believe in God, in Christmas, the season of Magical Light, with all its light and wonder and splendor, I Believe in friendship and family and hugs, love and laughter.  I Believe in Life.  I Believe, I Believe, I Believe. I know the panic attacks will still hover at the edge of my consciousness, tap dancing in the back of my head, they will be there, but I BELIEVE.  To the panic attacks, I say, bite me. I BELIEVE in something much, much greater and bigger than you. I BELIEVE in the Light.
  

Wishing everyone a Blessed, Joyous, Peaceful Christmas.  Until next time, be safe, be blessed, be joyful and BELIEVE.