Thursday, November 26, 2009
First of Advent is only three days away, the countdown will begin. And I love this season. I think about what's to come. I daydream and plan and ponder. I anticipate. It's always been this way. I remember being a child and enjoying the waiting for Christmas more than Christmas itself. In Advent there was always the promise of that Perfect Night. When my presents would be wonderful, the snow thick and white and the magic surrounding us.
I like to think that I'm wiser now (dear Lord, I know that I'm older). That what I dream about today is simpler and therefore easier to accomplish. Family, good food, going to church, being together. I'm not into perfection these days (well, I try not to be – and at least my definition of perfection has changed a lot these last five years).
But then I listen to my son and realize that he's just like me. Like I was. He has a vision of Christmas that is very clear and very perfect. And I find myself struggling with wanting to give him everything and wanting to tell him that no, there probably won't be any snow on the 24th and no, he can't possibly get everything he wishes for and does he realize how lucky he is and there are children starving in the world and can't we all just share an orange in front of the fireplace and be happy with that?
There's a part of me that would very much like to celebrate Christmas Little House On The Praire style. And there's a part of me who want to wrap every present possible, buy snow and fifteen reindeers and build a lifesize gingerbread house with helipad for my son to sleep in.
So there. Total anticipation angst and a tad confused. How about you?