Christmas and Holiday Traditions

Somehow we’d get to sleep. Excitement brewing. It was the night before Christmas.

Cookies and orange juice put out by the fireplace for Santa Claus. A note with coloured pencil crayons.

The best part of the morning was feeling the lump of my stocking at the end of the bed. Filled with little gifts neatly wrapped. Always an orange and jube jubes in the bottom.

The stocking was the start of Christmas day.

Only crumbs would be left on Santa’s plate.

Unraveling the memories of childhood. I think to today.

The time with family and friends. All together. The essence of last week and tomorrow forgotten. The mind in the sharing of the holiday.

Wrapped in love and joy, a dinner of turkey, gravy, winter vegetables and cheer.

I’ve made my own traditions.

The cranberry-orange chutney. The ginger-molasses cookies. Shaped in hearts. Sprinkled with love.

Even for my little nieces.

They get something straight from my heart.

Ma’s Open House on Christmas Eve lives on.

This year’s cross-generational guests presumed innocence.

What a delight to giggle and share all the yearnings for the year. Fantasizing the non-fictions for the future.

It was so pleasurable today to read an pal’s Facebook post. The skid of consumerism slowly being unfolded to a donation of choice to a developing country. Aid for water, food or education. Their choice.
His children are young teenagers.

Old traditions, new traditions.

We're certainly in charge of making are own holiday traditions.

Aren't we!

Spur the Spirits of Love

Natural capital. I heard that last night during Surviving Progress.

The capital of our natural resources: trees, water, plants, etc. etc. Beaten down by Corporations.

Simplicity is modern. Although the preaching of over consumption falls to deaf ears. 

For many, it’s their belief that it's the material world that’s killing the planet. Mass production. For those that have. Not enough for those that have not.

My son asks me tonight what I want for Christmas. What I need. My response is always the same.

Make me something.

A playlist of music you know I’d like. A handwritten card.

Personally I believe passing on the love is better then anything you can buy.

Pick up the phone and call someone. 

Bake some mincemeat tarts and gingerbread cookies. Make some cranberry-orange sauce.

Help out at a soup kitchen or the Food Bank.

Invite people you don’t know over for dinner.

This holiday, spur the spirits of love.

And spread it all around.

I double dare you.

Time Whipped

In Illustrator by Jane Victoria King

Are there enough hours in the day?
To sit and do nothing.

Does time pass us by?
Or stand still.

If we slow down.
Does it speed up?

When the clock strikes 12.
Are we half way there?
 
In a minute there’s an hour.
After today there is a week.

Before we know it, it will be Christmas.

What Matters Most

For sure I see things differently. For anyone who has visited a developing country and comes home – it would be the same.

We live materialistically. I’m shuddering through the culture shock. Coming home at Christmas time. People talking shopping and buying gifts. For what? Giving. Why?

I think back to last week. In Uganda.

The streets are busy. Lugandans celebrate Christmas. Not all, the Muslims don’t. People talk holidays. Family. Coming together.

It may not be turkey and stuffing. Though I did see the odd turkey on the street. Legs bound together. Lying flat on the side of the road. Or carried by their legs upside down.

It’s hot in Uganda. The days find individuals sleeping in a cool ditch or under a tree. Away from the harsh rays of the sun.

But the nights come alive. In a magical way. Everywhere. Little oil lights. Or kerosene. It’s an outdoorsy lifestyle. Music in the streets. Food vendors barbeque or skillet something hot.

So I ponder, what matters most about this time of year?

Is to be together with the ones you love? For families to share? For love to shine? To love and to be loved?

Yes, that’s what matters most.

To love and to be loved.