Christmas Music Already? Hmmm…

Last week I turned on the radio in the car expecting to hear some classic rock.  What did I hear? Christmas music!  What?  So soon?

Forgive me if I sound like a Scrooge, but it wasn’t my cup of tea at that moment.

For me Christmas is not a secular day.  It is a deeply spiritual and religious day.  There is a time and a purpose in being able to wait for this day.   In some religious traditions this time of waiting is called Advent.  In others, there is no name, but there is a time to prepare.  A time to be still, to reflect on what the world would really be like if there was peace on earth and good will toward everyone.

Yes, I do send Christmas cards and give gifts.  I am the odd person who strongly prefers to write Christmas cards with a fountain pen.  For me, there is something very traditional in that.  I realize the recipient doesn’t know this, but it makes a difference to me.  I can’t rush.  I have to slow down when writing them or I will make a mistake.  I admit I am a crafter, crocheting a variety of items to give away during the holidays.  More on this in a future post.  Since this takes time I work on projects well before Christmas.  I see this as a personal endeavor, a way to pace myself and calm my mind in the midst of all that goes on around me.

As far as the radio I asked myself what the fuss was all about.  I had no rational reason.  Did I?  Somehow it just didn’t feel right.  The Sunday after Thanksgiving is the when reflections and religious ceremonies often begin in terms of preparation for Christmas.  I know it’s not that far away.  I guess it was the realization that this waiting time is a part of me.  It’s important to me, even if it is something that I hold quietly within myself.  I guess I didn’t appreciate the interruption in that personal cycle.

My husband later joked with me and reminded me that I often brighten up when I hear Jose Feliciano sing Feliz Navidad.  He’s right.  Some people don’t care for the song, but it is part of my culture.  It was a song that crossed boundaries growing up in a predominantly Hispanic area.  It was a song that, growing up, I learned to play on the guitar with classmates.  Everyone would sing it at the top of their lungs.  Later, I learned to add percussive instruments like claves and the guiro.  Even though I haven’t played much music recently these rhythms are a part of me.

When I heard the Christmas music last week I changed the radio station.  It had been a while since I enjoyed jazz in the car.  It will be a nice change of pace until I’m ready to tune into the “sounds of the season.”  I can wait until then.

Visiting with Mom

Mom visited this week.  A few weeks back she “announced” she was coming.  I didn’t mind.  Funny thing was I had started making plans and knew I would have to change them.  Ah, well.  It was all good.

We did the rounds of shopping, including visiting two yarn shops.  I was inspired to start some serious crocheting for the holidays.  I’ve been doing this for the past several years.  I hadn’t crocheted for quite some time.  I re-started when I was facing a lay-off.   It was productive and relaxing.  I was hooked, so to speak.  The crocheting has been prolific ever since.

The yarn shops had very beautiful and luxurious fibers.  I could spend hours examining the skeins, imaging what I would make.  For now, I settled on a few small items.

Back at home Mom settled back on the couch and watched me crochet.  As I worked my way through the yarn I would show her my progress.  A couple of times I wasn’t satisfied with the outcome so I pulled it apart and started again.  We enjoyed talking about the stitches and the “finished objects.”  At first she talked about taking all the items I made back with her so she could give them out.  She had no room in her suitcase.  I had already given her a shawl and several scarves.  I would mail the other items; she enjoyed giving them out.

On a different note, I am always introspective at this time of year.  There are a lot of reasons for this.  As I look back on this year I’ve considered the tremendous amount of change that took place.  I started a new position in a different department…traveled on the job…met new people…was greatly challenged…began to feel more secure in the new position…Al supported me…Mija was settling into the school year…was it a successful year?   Well, let’s just say that I was satisfied.  More on this in a future post.

When we took Mom to the airport I saw our reflections in the two glass doors leading into the terminal.  When I looked at our reflections I had another brief flash of introspection.  I saw my Mom’s reflection and mused that this is what I would look like in twenty years.  We have similar features.  We have short hair.  Hers is white, mine is mostly silver.  We each walk with a limp, depending on how tired our legs are.  She has grown old gracefully and I  wondered if I was doing the same.

I only see her a couple of times a year, so I wondered how many future visits there would be…ever.  I wasn’t sad about that thought.  I realized we would have to make the most of every single visit no matter when they may be. With that in mind we said our good-byes. Even though I didn’t know when I’d see her again I knew she would call when she got home.  She did.  That’s my mom, ever faithful.