Ribbons, Beautiful Colored Spirals

Whew! December has slipped quietly into the past. I hope I have time to catch my breath before it hits again.

As I sat here on December 23, trying to decide what to do about shopping, my soul and body were quietly filled with a sense of peace and joy. "Wait a minute," I thought, "Peace and joy . . . isn't there a story about angels who spoke of peace and joy?" The whole story from the Gospel of Luke played in my private movie theatre. (You know, the one that usually plays reruns or worst case scenario movies.) The more I considered Christmas: the birth of Christ, the angels, the shepherds, Joseph, Mary, the happier I felt. The upshot of all this intense consideration was that I made up my mind to go shopping the next day: Christmas Eve!

I decided to be happy. I decided to find treasures. I decided not to be tight-fisted. I DECIDED TO GO TO THE M A L L on December 24! Early the next morning, I woke up singing. By eleven thirty, I was parked in a good spot and ready to begin my personal shopping marathon. I was in the mall until after seven in the evening. What fun I had, choosing just the right books for my grandsons, the right activity for my granddaughter, everything I needed. Every clerk in every store was smiling. I was smiling. I smiled at people who weren't smiling to see if they would smile back in return. Most of them did.

The trunk of my car was full of bags. I started home. THEN I realized I still faced a very large obstacle: Lamar had always been the shopper AND the WRAPPER! Yikes! How could I, with my wrapping impaired hands, accomplish this mammoth task? I made another decision. I would go to visit my friend Cheryl to see if she would help with the wrapping. She would! And she did!
When I left her house, almost all the purchases were beautifully wrapped in shiny gold paper.

I brought them into the house and pulled out the ribbon. Curling ribbon has been my strongest point at Christmastime for years. On December 24, 2007 with Christmas music bursting forth from my (formerly Lamar's) SURROUND SOUND SPEAKERS, I found myself curling ribbon to tie around my beautiful packages. I lined up the velveteen stockings: one for every member of the family. I stuffed them with packages and put them in my car again, all ready to be handed out on Christmas morning at my daughter's house. I went to bed after midnight, weary in body, but happy in spirit and full of peace in my soul.

No. I'm not Scrooge. The Spirit of Christmas found me, just in time.

And now, it's the New Year! 2008. That number makes my head swim. When I was a child, just learning to add, I would lie in bed at night adding. I was 8, so in forty years I would be 48. In forty years my brothers would be . . . my friends would be . . . my mother would be . . .

I could add up to the year 2000, but I could go no farther. In the year 2000 my mother would be 81 years old. My father would be 91. My grandparents would be over 100 years old. My childish mind could not confront the inevitable aging of my family members.

So it was that I never, ever, ever added anybody's age past the year 2000. And it has never occurred to me until recently that in 2008 I will be sixty years old. Tomorrow is my birthday.

A few days ago, my daughter told me not to make plans for today. She said, "We are going to take you to the beach. (If you know me at all, you know about my relationship with the beach. It's more than passionate; it's almost an obsession.) And after the beach, we are taking you to dinner."

Ah, today has been such a relaxing, peaceful mix of fun, conversation and entertainment. There were no packages with ribbons curled around them. Just seven of the people I love most and myself, walking on the beach, picking up shells, laughing, talking and being together. At the restaurant, they put my name on a slip of paper and dropped it into a basket. A few minutes later, the musician pulled the paper out of the basket, announced my birthday and led everyone in singing Happy Birthday to me.

When they came to the last line, I sang. I sang loudly. I sang with gusto. I sang, as if the room had been filled with twirling, curling, spiraling colored ribbons, " Happy Birthday to . . . ME!"

I wish I knew a classic poem to use as the ending for this blog posting. I don't. I'm going to make up a peom. Maybe it will become a classic.

Long have I stood in shadows, trembling beneath dismal peaks.
Long have I ached in darkness, swallowed by ravenous grief.
So long had been my journey and so questioned my beliefs,
I bowed my head in sorrow, despairing my soul's relief.

When from the distance rising, my hearing perceived a song.
Its rhythm was compelling, its sweet melody was strong.
I heard a choir singing, it seemed a heavenly throng,
"Lift up your eyes, He's coming! The King who vanquishes wrong."

I saw Him then before me, most beautiful and most bright:
I saw Him speak forth lightning to fill the valley with light.
"Come from this place of coldness, fly with Me out of the night."
He grasped the hand I held out, turned 'round, and set me to flight.

From then 'til now, I'm soaring! Pain's valley lies far behind.
The shadows are forgotten; I now discern His design:
Like spiraling bright ribbons, my life's path has been assigned
both great joy and great sadness, by which my soul is refined.

Composed tonight to indicate the beginning of a New Year, my sixtieth year, which shall be a year of soaring . . . as a kite with a spiraling tail, on a long string, before a fresh wind.