With Thanksgiving in my rear view mirror and our neighborhood lit up at night like Fifth Ave. in New York City, there is little doubt that the Christmas Season is here. Many of my friends have proudly proclaimed that they are done with their shopping; all the gifts are even wrapped and under the tree. It is a much different story here at our house. Our tree is standing in its usual spot in the living room but is only about 10% decorated.
I could lie and say we’ve just been too busy to hang the ornaments but the simple fact is that I am generally the driving force behind the holiday transformation and for the past month have elected to sit, knit and watch old BBC reruns in my spare time.
I love Christmas. And, while I should be embracing the season, I have been avoiding it, feeling like an alien dropped in a strange land, or like Charlie Brown asking, “Is this all there is?” And, because I feel it necessary to analyze everything, I’ve been trying to get the root of my funk.
At the risk of beating and then dragging a dead horse, last month’s election has really hit me hard. I’m struggling to steel myself through these next four years with our new “Tweeter-In-Chief”. And, as Forrest Gump said, that’s all I have to say about that.
This weekend, Dave and I had a chance to getaway and have a change of scenery. Every year he’s invited to attend a holiday open house at a senior associate’s home in Reston but never felt like making the two-hour ride to attend. This year he suggested with try to hook up with our good friends, Lynda and Larry for an overnight and make a weekend of it. I did. They are not only available but tickled to have us come and spend the night with them. So, just after noon on Saturday, dressed in semi-semi-formal holiday attire, we headed up north for the weekend.
I’ve attended enough holiday affairs at flag officers’ homes to have a good idea of what to expect; decorations that were extensive and perfect without being overdone, buffet tables laden with good food and drink and rooms crowded with people I’ve never seen before. I promised Dave not to desert me, something I’ve never done before. I think it was more a product of my finding my voice than anxiety, although it’s been more than a few years since my last party on Admiral’s Row. He squeezed my hand and promised not to.
Our hosts did not disappoint. They were warm and gracious and their home was gorgeous! I can’t imagine the hours it took to plan and execute the decorations or the amount of storage it takes to maintain them. The food was beautifully presented and I did my best to stay away since we were having dinner later with our friends. Best of all, despite the fact I walked in not knowing a soul, it wasn’t long before I remembered that these were Dave’s colleagues and they are for the most part a genuine good bunch of folks. Conversation was easy and on the whole was much more of a delight than a box checking corporate affair.
The greatest bonus of the trip was having the opportunity to visit our friends. It’s so hard to believe it’s been twenty years since we first moved to Vienna, because in the two short years we were there, we became so close and have thankfully stayed that way. Spending the night with them gave us the luxury of catching up in a warm, relaxed way.
As we shared our first cup of coffee on Sunday morning, Lynda opened a Little Blue Book tucked in the center of her Advent Wreath and had me read the devotion for the day. It was just the thing I needed to read; a reminder that we shouldn’t worry about trying to make the perfect Christmas because when we celebrate Christ’s birth, we should remember that He wasn’t born into a perfect world. We should embrace the imperfections in the realization that in turn, we are embraced by Jesus for our imperfections. Wow.
Later, when we attended Mass with them, I began to feel that embrace. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt that way; church has been a real struggle for me. But for that hour, I let myself go and offered myself into the moment. The reminder of why I still go to church despite my struggles was profound.
Our weekend ended back at home with Dave’s Christmas Concerts with the Greene County Singers. The venue is the tiny Stanardsville United Methodist Church, an old white clapboard building with hardwood floors that creak when walked on and white wooden pews that are short seated and straight backed. But, with two beautifully lit Jesse Trees as a backdrop for the concert, it is magical. The quality of the chorus is wonderful as they present an hour-long program of holiday music.
As I sat and listened, I kept my eyes on Dave’s face which radiates when he sings. I think he looks happiest when he’s singing and I love to see the transformation.
As we walked back to our car in the dark and rain, I realized that over the course of the weekend, I too was transformed. My funk is gone and I am ready to take on the holiday, embracing the imperfections the best I can.