A Different Kind of Christmas
I am slow, behind. Your blog posts are going unread. My head reels with thoughts of sofas and chairs and what to do with the table in the kitchen? I am furnishing an entire beach house in my head (and on Pinterest). When these sortings graciously step aside for a moment, Jazzy and the Pirate rushes in, insisting on being finished. Finished—ha! I’m still organizing research and plot points and character traits, but I have—mirabile dictu!—written a synopsis BEFORE I’ve written the novel, never done that before. All of this is happening as my husband and I scurry all over the country; in one month we’ll have spent time in New Orleans, Memphis, North Carolina, Alabama, and Arkansas. Okay, we’re scurrying all over the South. But still.
And now it’s Advent.
Last year, I tracked Mary’s progress as she and Tall Jesus made their way toward the birthing. Some of you walked that journey with me. The plodding movement honored each day like a child slowly tapping a drum. That experiment was inspired by Sybil MacBeth’s book The Season of the Nativity, which I wrote about here. Sybil hasn’t written a new book for this Advent, so I’m on my own.
When I consider the upcoming season—Advent, Christmas—I feel myself pulling back. Retreating. Over the years I’ve occasionally moaned about the Christmas hustle and bustle—how am I supposed to do my normal things then layer Christmas on top of that?—but this is different. I want to go to a different place.
I want a place of bare limbs and fallen leaves and white clouded skies.
Where the earth waits for the footstep and one last leaf clings to a twig.
I want to wander through the draped cedars, tromping spiky yellow grass that crunches with frost.
I want to burrow underneath reality to get to where the bones lie, the beginning of ourselves as people, those who felt the shortening days and in their fear did not run from the night but created a celebration that set the darkness on center stage.
I’ve celebrated Christmas with old toys and with orange and red lights and with Amaryllis, and I’m well aware that every year I choose not to put out decorations is one less year of my life to enjoy what has said “Christmas” to me ever since I became an adult making my own choices (and yes, one of those choices is the Christmas Kermit the Frog a MacDonald’s handed out when I was driving by myself from Jackson to Charlotte, and I love that frog because in all its ridiculous commercialism, it says “Christmas” to me.)
Maybe it’s all the noise over red coffee cups and the shouting about being a Christian at Christmas. Maybe my head has been too full of decorated things this last few months. Whatever, I think I’m taking a break and, this year, I’ll be celebrating the world that has been and will be and into which the baby was born.
p.s. We’ve removed some plug-ins from the site and done other esoteric things so I’m hoping the timeout problem we’ve been having with comments is fixed; please let me know if it’s still a hassle! ?
Advent, Red Cups and Christmas, Sybil MacBeth, The Season of the Nativity
Joe Hawes
A good start to Advent. Wandering around the craziest parts of these United States is good preparation for a season of celebration. You probably wished that someone had made straight a highway instead the one that says “Jesus and tomatoes coming soon” (Kate Campbell). This lufted my spirit &_I quit grousing about the rain..
Ellen Morris Prewitt
So glad it was salutary. I love Southern roadside signs. They are so full of hope, I think, a shout out to all passing by. And they’re funny!
Erin
Beautiful! Merry Christmas to you!
Ellen Morris Prewitt
Thank you! And I hope you have a Merry Christmas as well.
Joanne Corey
Advent is just starting, so I have trouble thinking about Christmas. It’s jarring to me to see the neighborhood dripping in Christmas lights already. Still, I know I only have a couple more days to finish unburying myself from the combination of the poetry conference and Thanksgiving so that I can at least do some gift shopping and card writing. Decorating will be much later…
Ellen Morris Prewitt
I think as I age the spirituality of Advent comes easier to me than does Christmas. Maybe after an Advent “retreat” I’ll be ready to have a joyful Christmas. And I’m so impressed you do Christmas cards! Those dropped by the wayside a while back . . .
Joanne Corey
Christmas cards are a priority for me because there are people from my past that I only communicate with at Christmastime and I don’t want to give that up. Last year, I actually wrote a single letter for everyone and didn’t send it with a card – but I had shingles last Dec. It was the only task that I didn’t delegate.
Ellen Morris Prewitt
Staying connected–such a nice priority. 🙂
Deborah
I am retreating into building a nest following my move a few days ago. I’ll be visiting my husband in Iowa for the actual “holidays,” and frankly, this is just going to be a time to be aware of the gifts of life that surround me. Wishing you a blessed Advent.
Ellen Morris Prewitt
I think that’s what I may do for Advent: name the gifts of this world that have been with us for all time. I hope the move went well and glad you’ll be able to see your husband for the holidays! A wonderful Advent to you as well.
D. Wallace Peach
Poetic and peaceful, Ellen. It seems to me that all the bustle and shopping gets in the way of the truly beautiful essence of the season. Thanks for sharing your retreat 🙂
Ellen Morris Prewitt
Thank you! The feeling of needing to get back to basics kind of overwhelmed me. Then once I made my Advent practice public on Facebook, it forced me to keep it up 🙂
D. Wallace Peach
Ha ha. Well it is a pleasure to read 🙂
Ellen Morris Prewitt
I’m so glad you enjoyed it, and thanks for taking the extra step to read it.