Soon the house was looking like Christmas, but I limited myself. No trees. No unloading the bins of Christmas dishes. I know where they are, and I will unpack them if and when I need them. I limited my time, as well. One day. Not two or three or four or more, as in the days when I replaced curtains with vintage Christmas tablecloths and had a tree in every room. Still, there are Christmas touches throughout the first floor, and I am pleased with this year's context for Christmas.
Decorating the house has always been the first task on my Christmas to do list. I need the setting to move into the season, to begin the other preparations. In an odd way, hanging garland and tying bows and unwrapping delicate mercury glass balls is a way for me to clear the space and bring clarity to what else needs to be done as the days march along. In the presence of the lights and the sparkle and the memories of years past, I regain my composure from feeling overwhelmed by addressing cards and writing letters and shopping and wrapping ETC. ETC. Every morning now when I come down the stairs and see that Bruce has turned on the lights on the banister and the mantel, a welcome to the day, I am reminded of the gifts of this time, the chance I have to deepen my connection to God in every moment.
There is still lots to do, and I suspect I won't be writing much this month, but I love this month. I love these days of whispering snow and a shawl around my shoulder and smells of cinnamon and fresh greens. I love Advent with its active waiting, and I love Christmas graced with connections and hopes and dreams and love remembered and love shared. May this be a time of many blessings for you and yours.