The Christmas Stone

Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? In the lane, Snow is glistening...

The song called Winter Wonderland drifts through my mind on an almost constant basis these days. It truly is a wonderland outside...everything has a lovely skim of fresh, powdery Snow. The Christmas lights decorating the front entrance, along with all the Snow, should put me in a Christmassy state of mind.


So far, though, the Spirit of Christmas has passed me by.


It may be because a viral bug has found me. My nose is running and my bones ache, my mind is cloudy and my eyes are red and sore. But today....ahh, today I will put the bug in his place!...I have presents to wrap and send.


No matter how I feel, when I get down to actually wrapping all those bags and bags of gifts Santa just plunked down on the guest room bed, there is an insidious feeling that takes over. 


The Christmas Spirit is stealthy and cunning like this. I find myself wrapping a gift, in a rather resentful manner, because I'd far rather be lying on the couch...and suddenly, sneakily, the Spirit tickles my mind. I begin to think about the recipient of the gift, how surprised they might be, and how happiness will bubble over when they receive it.


Love makes itself known along with the Spirit, of course. I will miss my family over Christmas...they have travelled to Mexico...but Love still overflows when their gifts are wrapped, with a special bow here and there. And yet, still, it feels bittersweet, this wrapping of gifts...


My grandson asked me yesterday if I was going to be there at his special place in Mexico. I almost lost it then, when I told him I wouldn't be,  that I would see him very soon after his return. I will miss my granddaughter's sixteenth birthday celebration as well. And so, you see...the Christmas Spirit, as sneaky as he is, still can have a difficult time with me.


It is always thus, every year, really, whether I see my family or not. Thirteen years ago, my daughter died on December 30. Even yet, it feels as if a Stone has been placed on my chest, more so at this time of year. And many of us feel so, if an anniversary of a death should happen around the time of Christmas and the New Year.


I wish I knew how to remove the Stone.

The Spirit of Christmas, however, does not let all these sad events hold him back. He insists on arriving, whether or not I am remembering a tragic time. And with his arrival, even if the Stone is hampering my breathing, things become easier.


Why not, after all?...I ask myself. There is nothing I can do about the past...why should the past now have the power to tell me how to feel today?


A beautiful sight...we're happy tonight...
  
Last week, a dear friend said to me...Can you even begin to imagine what Katrina's first Christmas in Heaven was like? Can you imagine what Earth would look like from Heaven, with all the lights and good cheer? The young children's voices in all the school choirs would float upwards...she said... and for Katrina,  for whom Christmas was her favourite season,  wouldn't she love it so?


Yes, she would...I said...She would, indeed!

And with that, the Stone becomes a little bit lighter.


Because my daughter loved Christmas, most years I remember that. With the rest of the family gone this year, I  have allowed myself to sink into Grinchiness.


But with Christmas music playing, with all the gifts only half wrapped, I think it is time to join in on the joy of the Season. Sadness has no place amongst all those gaily wrapped gifts.


I recall, when my granddaughter Brianna was about a year old, how Katrina and I and Bree went to a very beautifully decorated home. As we wandered through the garden Katrina said...Isn't this just the most beautiful  and happy place on Earth?... I looked at her own enormous beauty, with her eyes shining with love for her baby...and I thought, yes, right now, this moment, there is nothing lovelier.

And at Christmas, this is the memory which takes over. And I still think there can be nothing lovelier than that extraordinarily clear remembrance of my daughter.


Gone away is the bluebird, here to stay is a new bird....


Years ago, I told my daughters, when we went for a walk, that they could each hold one of my arms. Heidi always took my right and Katrina always took the left arm.


And today, even though a cold bug found me, even though the Stone still finds its spot over my heart, I will go for a walk.


During that walk, I will feel my daughters' hands clinging to their preferred arm. They may not be here with me, but their energy is. Just as my grandchildrens' loving thoughts will surround me, as well.

The Stone will become almost non-existent.

And then, later on, I'll conspire...


To face unafraid, the plans that we made, walking in a Winter wonderland!

Telephobia

The Christmas season has certainly arrived in my grocery store. It has been decorated to the nth degree, it is stocked to the ceiling and songs calling out for joy and wonderment play over and over.

It quite put me in a daze. I wandered the aisles, listening to all the old Christmas carols. The decorations were over the top, but done with class and care. I realized the whole idea was to make things look so good, sound so good...the consumer would buy items or gifts, without thinking twice. I proved them right.


I was in the baking section. I'd baked all the previous week and needed reinforcements. I was completely engrossed in picking out dark chocolate when I heard a musical sound that wasn't part of the song about Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer presently playing over the loudspeaker.

The sound came at intervals, over and over. I raised my head, wondering, looking around. It took a bit before I realized it was a cell phone.

It was coming from the hands of a woman, who was looking at the black object helplessly...a little fearfully, even...

She looked over at me...I don't know how to answer this phone...said she.


I am no expert on cell phones. I don't know how to use them, either, as a matter of fact. I have a black one that I forget to charge, probably on purpose since the day when I found myself in this lady's position.


She continued...This is a new thing for me...I got this as a present from my son. But I don't know how to answer it or shut it off. And it keeps ringing!!!...


She was becoming undone. I smiled with sympathy and said...I think you flip the lid...

She looked at me and then at her phone, still in her hand. She shoved the phone at me and with great anxiety said...Can you do it?


The phone stopped ringing. I smiled and was beginning to tell her my own stories about cell phones when the phone rang again. This time, she almost threw the thing at me.


I hoped this phone I was now holding was like mine...and it was. I flipped the lid up and handed it to her...You can talk now...I said.


But she backed away, waving her hands in front of her.


...No, no...she said...you answer it!


I looked at her in disbelief. She wanted me to answer her phone?

I looked around. We had drawn a crowd; they were lined up and down the aisle looking at items like flour and the different kinds of maraschino Cherries with intense concentration.


I knew they were all listening.


By this time, I hoped the person who was trying to contact this fine lady had disconnected. I said a tentative Hello into the phone...


...Where is my mother?! What's happened to her?...a frenzied male voice asked frantically...I've left messages, a lot of them. What's wrong?

I have trouble talking on phones. It's a thing of mine...my throat closes up, I stumble over words, say things that aren't meant...


I tried to hand the phone over to the lady who had backed herself right up against the chocolate display, looking at me as if the 'divil' himself was crouching in my hand. She shook her head.


I was becoming exasperated, just a bit. I heard her son's shouts coming from the phone...Hello? Hello? Hello?...


I put the phone to my ear...Your mother's alright. She's right here...um, she just doesn't want to talk on this phone...


I tried to reassure the caller, but he was a chip off the old block and had let his anxiety get the best of him.The lady had been standing there with her ringing phone for awhile before I arrived, apparently. He insisted on speaking with her.


In turn, I insisted she take the phone. With my eyes steady on hers, I placed the phone in her hand and said...Talk.


She did.


I let go of the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. I glanced around at the sympathetic faces around us, some wreathed with hilarity.


I felt a huge giggle waiting to burst out of me, as well. I looked at the lady, who was now talking in Italian to her son, with great gesticulations punctuating her speech.

It was time to move on. I smiled at the shoppers lined against the displays and received quite a few wide grins, in return, as I trundled off with my cart.

I smiled at myself as I found I had walked straight to the florist's department. I find Plants when I am anxious...even cut Flowers still have enough energy left in them to calm me.

As I stood there, I wondered what had caused this lady to be so frightened of her cell phone.

But the music, the bonhomie, the general energy there in the store, that day, made me shrug my shoulders and continue shopping. I bought Spiderman gifts for my grandson, lovely girly things for my granddaughter, and enough baking supplies to last me well into the middle of next year.

I didn't see the lady again; it was the cashier, who had seen the whole hullabaloo from her vantage point, who reminded me once more. We discussed the fear of talking on phones. Neither of us knew the name of a condition like this.

It wasn't until I googled the fear of speaking on cell phones that I found it was called telephobia.


Especially since many of the signs of telephobia apply to me, I felt especially sad that I had let exasperation get the better of me in the store with the lady.


One never knows another's story until one has walked many miles in another's shoes.


I know that.


And it is the Christmas season...goodwill to all.


I can only hope I will have more patience with my next encounter which might disturb me when I am intent on something...

And that I have learned a lesson about myself and my own fear of cell phones.


Christmas shopping. 

I guess it's true.

It does bring out the best and the worst in us...

North Wind and Santa

He's making a list
And checking it twice;
Gonna find out Who's naughty and nice
Santa Claus is coming to town! 


When North Wind blows his icy breath around my home, he will, depending upon his mood, tell stories about the Far North...and the following story is one he told me.

Santa is outrageously busy at this time of year.  He can get overwhelmed and crabby, but he has learned much, much wisdom and guile over the Centuries.  Still, he takes the time to balance and centre himself a whole lot.

He completely understands by now, after years and years of handing out toys to all the kids out there, that once he has finished that last house, he will have time for a rest.


And that another whole year will pass before he has to check that toy list again...twice.

Santa's Techie Elves all got together, recently, and gave him a laptop computer. When he figures out what he considers to be an odd gift, he has the tools to be very organized, right there on his lap! He could have files in his computer with every child's name on it. With every year categorized. But North Wind heard that Santa can become quite exasperated with his newest tool.

Many of his Techie Elves are quite sensitive to his moods; they help Santa when the computer becomes too difficult. And then... the Elves, after Santa's worked on it for awhile, urge him to go and find a cup of Herbal Tea and cookies.


After he's gone, grumbling and mumbling, the Elves fix his computer so that all the boys and girls, whose files have been all mixed up by Santa's ineptitude, will all be back in place, easily found. It took the Elves a very long time to convince Santa that the computer was the way to go, in this day and age, rather than that long list he carried around.


But North Wind tells me Santa's not so sure. That hard copy list of old never changed, was always easily read. He never had to worry about deleting the list, as sometimes happens with the computer. He never had to worry about the anxiety that suddenly appears...computer anxiety. But he does have the best Elf technicians anybody could ask for...and if it gets too tough, computer wise, he could just hand it over to them.

But Santa's stubborn and determined...he pushes out his lower lip, and pulls down his bushy eyebrows. When he does this, most Elves leave him alone.



Santa tells North Wind, who can be very empathetic when he wants to be, that he really doesn't have time to argue with those Elves these days, anyway. They want him to take his laptop in his sleigh, when he goes to deliver those toys to all the boys and girls who have waited a whole year. He gives North Wind an example, from a recent delivery, when he saved the day...


 In his wisdom, he knew it might not be a good thing to rely on that computer. It is not always easy to contact online computer technicians, who always promise incomprehensible help, over Christmas. He has accepted his limitations...he can read a written list, but how does he find those lost files, once they seemingly disappear? No matter which button he pushes. Or clicks, he forgets the new terminology sometimes.

But Santa had a plan. He always does, shrugged North Wind, as he blew this story into my ear.



Santa took his written list on his journey around the World to deliver those toys, along with his laptop. He felt it was just too wearing to argue with those Elf technicians, so he pretended that he couldn't wait to take his laptop with him. But he hid his list in his back pocket, not even telling Mrs. Claus that he preferred the written list. She's so much better on the computer than he is, he didn't want her to know that he still preferred his list.


But as soon as he was out of sight of the North Pole, he tossed the laptop into the back of the sleigh, squared his shoulders and took a deep breath. He took his folded list out of his back pocket, and checked the first name. He was back in control.


After checking each name (twice!), directing his Reindeer, climbing on slippery roofs, getting stuck in tight chimneys, drinking gallons of milk and eating a million cookies, Santa got tired.


Sometimes...he told North Wind...he wishes that the boys and girls would leave some hot Chicken soup, with his cup of Herbal Tea. All those cookies are great, but sugar just doesn't sit well in his tummy anymore. Shrugging his shoulders, he reminds himself to be grateful. It would be a long night, indeed, without those sugary snacks to keep him going.


Finally, the last name is checked (twice!) and the Reindeer, with round tummies from all the apples and oats left outside for them, turned wearily home.


Just before he saw the lights of his compound in the North Pole, he pulled his laptop from under the empty Toy Bag, and quickly tried to make it look as if he had used it the whole night. Ding! ...went the computer...and up came the blue screen. With nothing on it. Oh oh.


Santa tossed the computer onto the back seat again, and congratulated himself on a job well done. He was extremely thankful for his wisdom in taking that long list of written names.


After Santa stumbles towards his home, his Elves unload the sleigh. They brush cookie crumbs and spots of milk off the upholstery of the sleigh seats. They scrub the seats, which are covered in soot from Santa's forays into chimneys. They take the Toy Bag away to be cleaned. And then, they find the laptop...


The Elves are puzzled. How did Santa ever manage to deliver all the toys, when the computer was frozen solid, when it wouldn't even boot up? They shrug their shoulders, telling themselves they shouldn't be too surprised...Santa's done this trip a million trillion times without a computer, and he's just done one more. Perhaps next year...


In the meantime, Santa had eaten the Chicken soup he had dreamt about all night, had his cup of Herbal Tea, and found the couch. Mrs. Claus placed one of the Elf babies on his belly...and they were

off to dreamland.


Santa mumbled, just before sleep overtook him...MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL...AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!

North Wind heard Santa's words and he delivered them to his compatriots...East, West and South Wind...who swirled and twirled them around the World.


This post was published here a couple of years ago. I've edited some of it, in the interests of clarity...but the message holds true.

Arctic Front and...Baking

This morning, when I arose, the temperatures were -28C. Other than taking the dogs out for a walk, I intend to spend little time outdoors today, never mind that the Wicked Winter Sun beckons and beguiles! He is a trickster; there is little warmth in his long, golden fingers.

It is the Christmas Season.  There are more gifts for me to find as yet, but with the Arctic front which has us full in its grip, I will not travel into town this day.


Instead, I will organize the gifts I have. This year, I plan to wrap nicely, with thoughtful touches here and there, on each gift. I plan to wrap nicely every year...but more often than not, I end up wrapping on Christmas Eve, with great haste and not much flair.


Also on the radar is the baking I want to take with me to the family on the Coast.  Sometimes, my bars and cookies and tarts look a little bedraggled after the long trip in the backseat of our car.  So this year, I have decided only nutty caramel popcorn and chocolate fudge will make the journey. But I will tuck in a few butter tarts for my daughter for whom the confection spells Christmas.



Oh! There are moments when I am so excited to be visiting the Coast, I remind myself of my childhood years. This will be the first time I have ever spent Christmas morning in my daughter's home. Usually, we arrive later in the day. Instead, this year we will be travelling to the Coast on Christmas Eve, arriving late...but we will be there!


This is the first year Graydon will be truly aware of Santa Claus at his grand old age of almost three. I am looking forward to telling him stories about Santa, reading countless books to him, and just snuggling with his warm little body.


I haven't seen Bree since the summer.  We travelled to the Coast for Thanksgiving in October, but she was entered in a Soccer Tournament in Victoria that weekend. She will be celebrating her birthday on December 20, which we will miss, only to make up for it when we arrive.


This will be her fifteenth birthday. Can anyone tell me where the time goes? It seems like only yesterday when it was Brianna who wanted stories about Santa, who wanted to sing and dance to Christmas music.

Bree is growing up...I am not as sure of her as I was when she was younger. Her interests are so diverse, many out of my realm of experience. But, as usual, no matter how anxious I am before I see her, love transcends all...and we chatter together just like a pair Magpies within minutes of seeing each other!


It doesn't seem to matter how old my family gets...every year, at Christmas, I can still see the youngster in my daughter. Her eyes sparkle with delight over visitors, food, entertaining and yes, even over presents. Just as they did when she was Graydon's age.


I've heard it said that Christmas brings out the child in everyone. And if it does, then to me this is one of the greatest reasons to celebrate a holiday such as this. Perhaps, if adults could grasp hold of their child within once a year...they may remember how joyful childish things can be...and continue on throughout the year.  


If adults could grasp the Christmas Spirit and hold it deep within their hearts, every day of the year, if our leaders could re-member their childhoods, no matter their religion...I wonder if the World would be in the trouble it is in.

If we all re-membered what it feels like to give freely and with joy, if we all re-membered childish anticipation, would we take as easily? Perhaps grasping greed would not be as prevalent, if we could only remember how a child gives...with his whole heart.


But I realize I'm naive.  I realize, as well, not everybody can remember wonderful Christmases. And I wish for all those who did not have the memories I have, that they will make good, solid remembrances over the coming years. And that they will contact that deep part of oneself, where anticipation, excitement and joy still exists, even if there are bad memories of a long ago childhood gone wrong.


As cold as it is outside, I believe I will create warmth and gaiety inside today.  Fudge making is on the horizon...how could it be Christmas without fudge? And oh...those butter tarts...can't forget those! The scent they produce in the oven will transport me right back to all the Christmases past.


Back to when my children were small, back to when I hid the gifts, back to when I volunteered at the Soup Kitchen, back to when our family swelled to include four foster boys who needed a home for Christmas, back to when we all sang the Christmas songs loudly and with great gusto on our way to my mother's home...

It's all about creating wonderful experiences and then... re-membering them year after year...

I don't believe I could have a better day!

Christmas on the Coast

We left for the Coast on Christmas Day in a roaring Blizzard, packed to the rooftops with gifts and baking.  We drove on hard-packed icy roads until we reached Hope... at the end of the Fraser Canyon route...a distance of almost four hundred kilometres.

I had my camera; usually I take pictures as we drive.  This time, I could not unclench my hands long enough to hold the camera. Indeed, my whole body stayed in one tense position all the way. 

The Coast had been blasted with a series of Snow Storms and even though the freeway beyond the town of Hope had at least one lane cleared, driving was difficult.  We saw the evidence of the Storms; there were many vehicles and semi-trailers turned upside down all along the route.

One logging truck, with a full load of logs, had overturned in a ravine on the side of the road.  With Snow settled on the cut logs and swirling Snow all around the wreck, it was easy to see how the Forest, which grew right around the spilled logs and upside down truck, might be beginning to reclaim her own.

Trips to the Coast are always rushed, because of the ferry required to reach the Island.  We had reservations for the three o'clock ferry; we could not allow Snow and Ice to slow us too much.


We made the ferry with less than an hour to spare...getting out of bed at four AM has its rewards, during a long, dark Winter's journey...

A very fine holiday with family ensued. Our grandkids, without exception, made both Graham and I the stars of their lives while we were there. And we enjoyed every joyous...and not quite so joyous...minute.


You see, we were all, once more, just as we were in the Summer, tied to the interior of the house, because of the inclement weather.  Snow lay piled above the raised deck; it was impossible to walk anywhere.

But we managed a trip to visit my sister and her family...and also to welcome the newest addition, baby Ender. When I visit the Coast, there never seems to be enough time to visit extended family. It was important this time...I rarely have the chance to keep up with my nieces and nephews and grands...and they were all home for Christmas.



The family rallied with one activity or another, and time passed far too quickly. Lighthearted fun prevailed, although there was time for girl's night where truths and misconceptions were shared, as they are each time we are together. Difficult as it may be, the bonding and understanding that occurs after a session is one which mothers, daughters, aunts and nieces all embrace.

And then.  Then it was time for leave-taking.  It was a great wrench this time, for me...I miss my family every day I am apart from them. I leave part of my heart with them, as I take part of theirs...

Again, we left in a howling Blizzard. But we seemed, as we moved along our route, to be outrunning the Storms which were advancing towards the Interior of the Province.  And so, I amused myself with my camera, some of the photos displayed here.

The Fraser Canyon Route has many twists and turns, which, when covered with Ice, can make driving treacherous, of course. But on the way home, with no deadline to meet, the drive seemed easier.  And the roads were somewhat better, even if we left our overnight motel in Chilliwack very early on a frosty, snowy morning. The roads seemed to be littered with glittering diamonds reflected from the headlights of our vehicle.

As tired as I was, beyond belief tired, a camera in my hand keeps me awake and interested. A photo taken in the blink of an eye through a mud-spattered window takes concentration. Not always did my attempts at capturing the essence of the icy, dirty highway bare fruit, but some did.  It is always those few which keep me returning to finding the elusive shot taken from a car window. 


Along the way, I mused upon what I wanted to accomplish in 2009. I already have so much; how could I ever improve upon my life?


But there is always something.


As we turned into our quiet, snow covered road and into our driveway, the trip home finally over...I realized, suddenly, the improvement on which I needed to focus.

I believe I will propel my attention on Kindness...to others and to myself. Kindnesses to others, in word and deed, are not so difficult for me; kindness to myself will take some work.

And I know I will have to work at being kind to myself, because even the thought of it is frightening...and thoughts which frighten me...well, they are difficult and will take much effort to carry out.

But it is the new Year...the year of 2009, the Year of the Ox.  It seems appropriate, somehow, to learn how to please myself.  At the moment, it feels like selfishness.  I will have to learn to move beyond that...

And along with being kind to myself, I want to learn to receive kindnesses from others...with grace.


Christmas, Blizzards, and long trips on icy roads all lead to deep thought, when one is a passenger...




 

Christmas Memories

Years and years ago, when I was a child, Santa Claus came on the day of Christmas Eve. By seven or eight o'clock that night, gifts had been wrapped and placed under the Tree...which was behind closed doors.

Always, I heard the jingle of Reindeer's collars on the roof. Always, in my youngest years, there would be a sister who would tell my youngest sister and I stories, to keep us occupied.

Santa disappeared, I was told, if children caught a glimpse of him, when he delivered presents. Along with all the gifts.

After a meal, we were allowed to view the Tree in its splendorous, bedecked glory, with gifts underneath piled high. As our family grew, the gifts did, as well. At my youngest age of memory, it was overwhelming...I remember well how difficult it was to just stand in one place.

But we were expected to sing Christmas Carols. Before opening gifts. This was one of my mother's favourite traditions...the singing of Carols on Christmas Eve.

As I sang, I calmed down a little, I felt myself lost in the beauty of the old German Carols we sung. I especially remember hearing bells in the heartstoppingly beautiful renditions of the music playing on the record player behind us. Those songs that were played will forever remind me of my mother.

And then, as the spell of the Christmas music consumed me, it was time for gifts. My mother would hand them out, and we were expected to wait until she regained her seat, and able to watch us open them.

I was never quite sure how to react when I opened a gift, and so I resorted to enthusiasm and smiles, regardless of what I privately thought of the gift. And thankfully, attention was never centred on me for long, as there were many family members at home on Christmas Eve. The celebrations lasted long into the Night; Christmas Morning was for sleeping in.

When I became a teenager, Christmas Eve and the gifts I received did not seem as important or as thrilling as when I was a youngster. Could I play with a Sweater or a Skirt? I still wanted new toys, toys that could be played with and assembled and imagined with. I wanted books and art supplies, along with the Sweater. For years, it seems to me, I could not quite clear that hump to adulthood...Christmas was a time for the complete child in me.

One who still wanted to play.

And then, the day after my twentieth birthday, my child was born. And Christmas was forever given over to my children, after that day. The child in me delighted in my children's awestruck demeanour, at Santa Claus, at hiking for a Christmas Tree, at the music that filled the Air. At the toys and books and craft items I could make sure they received. The ones that I really wanted to play with.

My favourite gift is still something I can play with over the Christmas Holidays. A book is always a welcome gift, but for the day after, when adrenaline still runs high, I need to work energy off. I think the Cuisinart I received years ago was a great gift. More vegetables were chopped, pizza dough created, cheese grated over the holidays following receipt of this gift than any other time.

Gourmet foods fairly flew out of the kitchen, with my children and their friends being easy targets that year.

When I married, Christmas traditions I had grown up with, where we opened gifts on Christmas Eve, changed to celebrating on Christmas Day, with gifts opened in the morning.
And in so doing, I lost the wonderment of lighting the Night on Christmas Eve, for a time. I lost some of the awe I felt as we sang those songs...Kling, Glockchen, Klingalingaling...I can hear the words now.

But that is the thing about memories...they are always there, when I want to grab them for a look. And as an adult who knows her own mind, I can play these wonderful old songs, and remember the awe and wonder I felt, so long ago, when I sang them.

In memory of both my parents who have passed on, my mother just recently, I have decided I will find a CD with songs similar to the ones that were sung on Christmas Eve during my childhood. Those were the best Christmases, the ones where childlike innocence still reigned. They were the early years in my life; before bad memories superseded and Christmas became, during some years, a trudging climb to get over.

As I read Sheila's post recently, wherein she spoke of favourite Christmas melodies, the memory of my mother's tradition, where her children sung her favourite songs, with voices clear as bells, on Christmas Eve, came clearly to mind.

With it, came the memory of how wonderfully excited I felt, how the anticipation seemed so much better than the real thing.

Once a year, those memories take me back to an innocent time in my life, where the world's experiences lay ahead of me, and there was nothing to fear, nothing to regret.

And there is no greater gift than that.

Merry Christmas!

Santa must be outrageously busy at this time of year. I wonder, sometimes, if he gets over- whelmed and crabby, but I know he has learned much wisdom over the Centuries.  He must balance and centre himself a whole lot.


I think he must know by now, after years and years of handing out toys to all the kids out there, that once he has finished, he has time for a rest.


And that another whole year will pass before he has to check that toy list again...twice.


I've recently been told by my Spy Elf that his Techie Elves all got together and gave him a laptop computer. If he could only figure out this strange gift, he has the tools to be very organized, right there on his lap! I imagine he would have files in his computer with every child's name on it. With every year categorized. But I've heard that he can become quite exasperated with his newest tool.


I imagine that a few of his Techie Elves are quite sensitive, and would help Santa when the computer just becomes too difficult. I imagine the Elves would, after Santa's worked on it for awhile, urge him to find a cup of herbal tea and cookies.

And then I know the Elves fix Santa's computer so that all the boys and girls, whose files have been all mixed up by Santa, will all be back in place, easily found. It took the Elves a very long time to convince Santa that the computer was the way to go, in this day and age, rather than that long list he carried around.


Santa's not so sure, though, that hard copy list never changed, was always easily read. He never had to worry about deleting the list, as sometimes happens with the computer. He never had to worry about the anxiety that suddenly appeared...computer anxiety. He has the best Elf technicians anybody could ask for...and if it gets too tough, computer wise, he just hands it over to them.


He really doesn't have time to argue with those Elves these days, anyway. They want him to take his laptop in his sleigh, when he goes to deliver those toys to all the boys and girls who have waited a whole year. But, in his wisdom, he knows this might not be a good thing...to rely on that computer. It is not easy to contact online computer technicians, who have always promised help but rarely follow through, over Christmas. And he accepts his limitations...he can read a written list, but how does he find those lost files, once they seemingly disappear? No matter which button he pushes. Or clicks, he forgets the new terminology sometimes.


So Santa always takes his written list, along with his laptop. It is just too wearing to argue with those Elf technicians, so he pretends that he can't wait to take his laptop with him. But he hides his list in his back pocket, not even telling Mrs. Claus that he prefers the written list. She's so much better on the computer than he is, he doesn't want her to know that he prefers his list.


But as soon as he is out of sight of the North Pole, he tosses the laptop into the back of the sleigh, squares his shoulders and takes a deep breath. He takes his folded list out of his back pocket, and checks the first name. He is back in control.


After checking each name (twice!), directing his reindeer, climbing on slippery roofs, getting stuck in tight chimneys, drinking gallons of milk and eating a million cookies, Santa gets tired.


Sometimes he wishes that the boys and girls would leave some hot Chicken Soup, and a cup of Herbal tea. All those cookies are great, but that sugar just doesn't sit well in his tummy anymore. However, he shrugs his shoulders, and reminds himself to be grateful. It would be a long night without those sugary snacks to keep him going.


Finally, the last name is checked (twice!) and the Reindeer, with round tummies from all the apples and oats left outside for them, turn wearily home.


Just before he sees the lights of his compound in the North Pole, he pulls his laptop from under the empty Toy Bag, and quickly tries to make it look as if he has used it the whole night. Ding! ...goes the computer...and up comes a blue screen. With nothing on it. Oh oh.


Santa tosses the computer back onto the back seat again, and congratulates himself on a job well done. He is thankful for his wisdom in taking that long list of written names.


As his Elves, unloading the sleigh, brush off cookie crumbs and spots of milk off the upholstery of the sleigh seats, they find the laptop.


How did Santa ever manage to deliver all the toys, when the computer was frozen solid, when it wouldn't even boot up? They shrug their shoulders, telling themselves they shouldn't be too surprised...Santa's done this trip a million times without a computer, and he's just done one more. Perhaps next year...


In the meantime, Santa has eaten the chicken Soup he has dreamt about all night, has his cup of herbal tea, and finds the couch. Mrs. Claus places one of the Elf babies on his belly...and they're
off to dreamland.


Santa mumbles, just before sleep overtakes him, MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL...AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

Held back from visiting Mom in the hospital by the inclement weather, I decided to heed the insistent voice I kept hearing... the one that whispered, ever more frantically ...It's Christmas!

Not one single thing has been done in preparation, in our house. The unearthly Storms that have pummelled Qualicum Beach and the rest of the Island have effectively stopped any baking or travelling to shop for gifts, for a couple of weeks, as power outages continue.

And time goes by.

There is another storm in the forecast for this afternoon; I intend to attempt to travel through it anyway. It has been a long time without any contact with my mother.

On Tuesday, despite another Wind Storm, I travelled down this side of the Island, to Nanaimo. This highway, although strewn with branches, is safer; I do not have to travel over a mountain pass, or beside a lake, or through Cathedral Grove to get there.

But my little truck fought hard to stay in its lane, when enormous gusts of Wind howled down the highway. By any one's standards, this Storm was intent on doing damage.

There are Trees hanging over power lines everywhere. BC Hydro is out in full force, repairing downed lines and cutting Trees that have fallen over, or been sheared off, with giant, jagged shards of naked wood reaching for the sky.

The continuing Wind and strange weather patterns have seriously hampered the repair efforts... hydro crews from Alberta are being flown in to lend a helping hand.

When I reach the Mall, I am struck by how few people are out shopping. Where are the Christmas hordes? The Storms have kept people at home...those fortunate few that still have power. And I hear stories of generators flying off shelves, and I hear of the need for people to know how to use these aids they are suddenly acquiring. Generators are meant to be used outdoors; there have been stories of death amongst the uninitiated, who use them without ventilation.

It is the middle of winter. Houses without a method of heating besides using electricity are very cold...and some people have been without power for many days, with only a promise that power may be restored by the weekend. Huge freezers holding last summer's garden bounty, along with meats, are defrosting, bringing hardship to many. Children are cold...how does one keep a baby warm in temperatures like these?

I search the faces of the shoppers. There are not many who look as if they are enjoying themselves, it seems difficult for others to meet my eyes or return my smile. Careworn, anxious eyes meet my gaze. Everyone that waits in line-ups with me has a story to share, about the weather. Not many sound excited over the forthcoming holiday...most have cancelled plans already made.

There are so many Storms in the long range forecast.

But I notice a child, looking up at the adults that surround him. His mother is intent on telling her story about how long her family has been without electricity; her son's face was becoming more and more anxious. Finally he tugged on her jacket. She brushed him off, placing her hand on his head, continuing with her story. He would not be denied, however.

His mother excused herself, for a moment, and looked down at him, her eyebrows raised. What about Santa, her son whispered, how will he find us, without lights?

I watched the adults around him, shamefacedly assuring the anxious little boy that Santa would find him, telling him all sorts of different ways Santa had at his disposal.

It was as if this child brought this small group of people, waiting in line with furrowed brows, to their senses. Suddenly the Christmas music didn't sound so manic; there was laughter...stories shared of how each one of us worried Santa wouldn't find us, at some point or another, in our childhoods.

The child, who had appeared in our midst dragging his feet, his head down, walked away with his mother with a spring in his step. All was right in his world now...even if there were no lights!

As I wandered off in search of another gift, I mused over how quickly the atmosphere changed, when happy stories, joyful stories, were remembered and shared. How quickly positive energy replaced the negative thoughts, destroying the weighty cloud that hung over us.

How lucky I felt, to be standing behind this little boy, and hearing the stories of reassurance. I needed them, too.

And suddenly, to me, it began to look...and feel...a lot more like Christmas.