There are still remnants of Christmas in our house. Half a nativity set. An angel. A “Peace on Earth” sign that stays up year round anyway.
I took down a “Happy Birthday” sign today, exactly one month from our last birthday, the day when we celebrate the birth and adoption of Moose the Beloved Dog.
My sweet Sammy’s birthday is in less than one month, so I questioned taking the sign down now. Do I keep it up a few more weeks and use the deflated balloons? Not for this birthday, not after everything he’s gone through in one year. Only the best balloons for Sammy.
As I took down the sign, it got me thinking.
Most of us take out holiday “stuff,” birthday signs, all the things that clutter up our home (more than they already are), at least several times a year.
Why?
Maybe for the same reason I write essays of slightly different themes but seem to revisit the same ideas over and over again.
Maybe we all need reminders to remember.
As I write this, I am glad Christmas is going away slower than ever before. At the speed of the sloth in Zootopia, to be exact. For the record, most of the time, yes, I am the bunny.
In order for you to fully grasp just how slowly Christmas is coming down, you might want to tune into a new feature film called Let Them Eat Duck.
Here’s a snip-it:
Instead of showing a family neatly putting away all of their holiday boxes like much of the rest of the world after Christmas, the film will pan across time to show the characters away from their home over every single holiday in the fall and winter. Except Thanksgiving (almost ironic, right?). Hospital after hospital visit (yes, I’ve talked about this a lot, but now it’s a FEATURE FILM). The camera will then pan to a family friend dragging away the family’s long-dead Christmas tree.
The house will be empty during much of the movie. It is homesick for its people.
Then, one miraculous day, the loud family returns home! All is forgiven and the house welcomes its people back and the people are delighted with the house, even though they do not understand why the house was so bitter.
The husband will make the planned Christmas duck weeks later.
They will finally eat duck.
But none of the details matter in this movie. Christmas is celebrated in the home without a tree. There are still lights, of course. A few lingering gifts.
It is the return home that trumped it all.
The duck doesn’t even matter. Well, it matters a little bit. Most importantly, the family is together. The baby is doing better. The sister says hello to her toys. The dog is back on his couch.
Like this teaser? Talk to me, people.
I’m thinking an autobiographical film about a family in the hospital for so much of a year won’t do too well in the box office, but there you have it. A FEATURE FILM. Not sure why that is so fun to say.
In all seriousness, we missed a lot. My husband, the faithful husband, father and pastor, had to leave our church on one of the most important days in a pastor’s year: Christmas Eve. Our dear Sammy’s heart was failing, and he needed his second major surgery in three months.
Since we were gone from home for so long, it only seems normal for our Christmas lights to still be twinkling outside our house in April. I smile as I walk by the window at night, and realize we didn’t really miss Christmas after all.
Having a nativity scene posed next to Easter eggs was never the goal, but it does make sense with the year we’ve had. Everything sort of blends together.
To top it off, we had a white Easter in Northern Arizona.
There was no white Christmas for us this year because we were in Phoenix, in the desert, where snow is rare.
When I woke up on Easter morning this year, home and happy, there was a spark inside me as I looked outside. As Lorelai Gilmore would say, I smelled snow.
Perky spring Easter dresses got thrown aside. It was time for more leggings and winter hats. I almost wore red.
I love how God reminds us to hold on.
Instead of spring coming right away, I was reminded to hold onto winter for a tad longer.
Backwards, I know.
But I was glad for it.
Forever and ever, I’ve tried to move past the winters of my life. Tuck the mittens into my jacket one last time and put away the snow boots (or shove them further back in a closet, out of sight at least). Good-bye, cold air, good riddance, long days. This summer girl needs no memory of you.
On one hand, I very much love to move past winter, both literally and figuratively, but some part of me (a walking contradiction, I know), finds solace in a reminder to remember.
That’s what the snow was, a beautiful reminder.
Because if the winter teaches me anything, it is to not give up.
We had a long winter. I could have easily believed spring would skip its turn.
Even with our Easter chill, and the reminder on this windy evening that I can wear my warm pajamas any time I want, April is ushering in sun and warmth and gardens and maybe some chickens.
It’s not skipping its turn. I wonder how often someone’s “seasons” follow the actual seasons of the weather. I’m not saying it’s been completely this way or will be completely this way, but it’s very interesting as I reflect.
As a weather pattern, we know autumn is a time of everything starting to change. Fall is when we had Sammy’s first surgery.
Then, there’s winter: everyone’s favorite time when words like cold, brisk, biting, and bone-chilling fill the air.
Our winter was definitely biting and unexpected. A second surgery. Two long hospital visits. Too much time with our family separated from one and other.
I say all this, not to depress you (another word associated with winter and lack of sunlight).
The weather patterns in our world and in our lives bring some interesting ways to look at things. Even more interesting when our lives mimic the weather outside.
Shout out to my wonderful dad, who had to hear me describe what “season” I was going through during various times in my life. Truly, a patient man.
Happy Spring, friends. Enjoy the ride.
“In the spring, I have counted 136 types of weather inside of 24 hours.”
-Mark Twain
Beautiful. I would watch.
My favorite scene would be the "Loud" family returning home....but that scene wouldn't be nearly as beautiful without your description of all the rest. Lavish blessings on you and yours, Vicki