The Gift of Family

Firstly for me Christmas is a spiritual holiday, celebrating the birth of Christ. But even as an adult this celebration of my faith is overshadowed by the excitement of waking up Christmas morning to a house full of blessings. First of all I am surrounded by my family. There is no place in the world for me that is as comfortable as my mother's house on Christmas morning with my brother making coffee and his children running circles around mine. My mother, true to character, filled the living room to overflowing with gifts of all shapes and sizes. There are no generic gifts under her tree. She has carefully and thoughtfully planned out Christmas gifts for all of us that I am sure takes her the entire year to wrap! We sit around her table for Christmas breakfast, which is traditionally Eggs Benedict and the room resonates with our laughter. The joy runs so deep.

There were a few years where I felt overwhelmed by this outpouring. When we go home for Christmas we are surrounded by four seperate families, as both James and I come from families of divorce. We travel from household to household over the Christmas holidays while our parents and siblings pour their love onto us. We are surrounded by generous gifts and meals but what strikes me most is how we are surrounded by intimacy. This intimacy of family and friends comes from a deep knowledge and love of one another. That is not to say that our families come free of bumps and bruises. There are some family members I do not know as well as others. There are sometimes gaps in conversation that I wish I knew how to fill. But there is an intimacy that grows from sharing Christmas traditions and it is demonstated in the sharing of meals, the exchange of gifts, the singing of carols and the free flow of conversation. I will gladly travel from household to household over the Christmas holidays to share in this gift of family. It is a gift that I do not want to take for granted.

when you have no words left of your own

The other day I was on the phone with a close friend who has recently moved to Ontario. We had run out of interesting tidbits from our own life but were not ready to hang up the phone and go on with our seperate days. We began reading eachother quotes that we had written on scrap pieces of paper and into our journals, sharing words that had inspired us over the past few weeks. Suddenly my friend began to laugh at the oddity of our conversation. We had just spent atleast 20 minutes in conversation with no words of our own.
But I want to share my favourite quote with you, from the front flap of the book Nothing is Impossible by Christopher Reeves, who recently passed away after years of struggling with paralysis:

"For able bodied people, paralysis is a choice, a choice to live with self doubt and a fear of taking risks -and it is not an acceptable choice!"

I have thought a lot about these words in the past few weeks as I contemplate the choices I have made so far in my life. I wonder how often I have let myself and others down by succumbing to fears that I could have overcome. As I look down at my newborn son my desire is that I can instill in him the ability to take the risks neccessary to fulfill his ambitions. I look at my older boys, who are filled with the excitement and naivity of youth, and I pray that I can teach them to turn their active imaginations and creative talents into achievable goals.
I hope that I can give them the words to pull from when they run out of words of their own. That when they feel paralyzed by fear and self doubt, they can look back on the lessons of their childhood and be propelled forward.

Conversation with a Little Old Lady at the Mall

You just never know what kind of fascinating details people will share with you when you are out with a baby. The other day a little old lady teetered over to me to gaze adoringly at my son, only 4 weeks old at the time. she is oohing and aahing over what an adorable baby I have when she says to me, "What a perfect little present under your tree this year..." (that seemed like a fairly normal little old lady thing to say) and then, as she is turning away she gives me a knowing wink and says, "My momma says I was conceived under the tree!"