Christmas on Earth

Driving to the grocery store on a dark misty morning for my last fresh vegetable run, I saw a lone woman with her dog out far an early Christmas Eve walk in the park. The solitaryness, the quietness, the beauty of it struck me and took me to other quiet solitary sights and feeling; the lone fishing boat in the vast ocean outside of Glacier Bay, The Nighthawks painting. I remembered years ago another early morning misty drive down the San Bernardino mountains on another early morning misty Christmas Eve.

I went to deep places and wound up 100 million light years away, and here is us in this wee universe, in this wee solar system, on this wee planet, amid all that immensity, 100 million light years away -- to me, and my infinitesimally small speck in that sphere. My heart full to bursting with the glow and love of the season. Thinking of Amber and her "It's snowing.." post on Facebook, Art's surgery, Ian preparing for his Christmas Eve work day, Roger and I making plans to take Connor to Christian's working-man-shop. Such a full quiet life. And this is where I belong, my Earth, my spot, my family, my loves, my hearth and home.

I can dive deep to find my roots, my bedrock, and always come to the same point of this is what I am, this is what I do. 100 million light years away isn't mine, it belongs to some other intelligence. This is my life. My low-keyed Christmas with some beloved faces, some winning grins, some tender friends. My Christmas is as festive as a pumpkin patch, a little dirt, some roots, some color grouped together or separate.

Immensity to me in a single line of being, an entry point into the stream of life. Everything else is so huge, so deep, so wide, it would be an impertinence of me to say what it is. It isn't Christmas 100 million light years away, or even all across the planet, but it is Christmas in my life, in my sphere, in my heart. My family is what matters in my life. My tried and true labors of love. Cooking favorite treats, dishes, pies. Admiring Ian as he wraps up the last gifts, me wrapped up in my life in Mukilteo as I catch glimpses of other family member's Christmas-on-Earth life.

It's been weeks of customers, cooking, Ian wrapping, thinking of silly limericks. My friend had a heart attack, mild but scary. I saw fire engines racing off to somewhere and hoped for everyone's safety, hoped it was a cat stuck up a tree. The grocery store at 6 am had three customers, when I drove by at 8:30 to have breakfast with Claire the parking lot was half full, when I came home at 11:30 the parking lot was packed, then when I drove by for a little Mexican tamales dinner late in the evening the parking lot was back to empty. That is Christmas in America.

I cut myself grating cheese, I always do, I always bleed for my families holiday meals.

I soaked up the energy and fun of Christmas Eve as I had breakfast with Claire, visit with Roger, dinner with Ian. Seeing folks shopping, driving, even gassing up their cars seemed more festive. Soaking up the grace of the day, the grace of family, the grace of love, the grace of Christmas.

I posted a picture of Ian's package wrapping artistry on Facebook. Enjoy your day and Merry Christmas.