Several years ago there was a movie titled The Tomato That Ate New York. I know, I know. But really, there was.
Today, not a movie, we have the cold that ate Kansas City. You might ask how those are related. But that was what I was thinking this morning when Cliff finally came down with a sore throat after me struggling for a week with hacking and stuffed sinuses and trying to keep it from him. Other friends, along with yours truly, are saying the are ALMOST well – this after days and days of it hanging on. We are limping toward Bethlehem.
The thing is, we’re going whether limping or running or walking and we’re carrying our baggage. And plenty of Kleenex.
I guess if I can see the absurd in the whole thing, I really am beginning to heal.
We never want to go into the Christmas season sick or wounded or tired or troubled. And yet. We do. Often. Others are grieving – the loss of friends, the loss of family, lost childhood, lost innocence, lost dreams. Lost joy.
I learned a lot from my mother. Whenever another ache or trouble or illness happened, she’d shrug. Getting older, she’d say, beats the alternative. She didn’t complain.
The Christmas season is hard on many people. That may be why they are rushing, pretending that getting it all done will bring happiness. My mother knew waking up each morning was happiness.
So be as kind as possible on this journey to and with your fellow travelers. We all carry our own invisible baggage. We all need to put it down and sometimes we do; and sometimes we are at peace.
Let this day, this small space of time, if only when you’re reading this, be peaceful. Breathe. Give thanks. We’re still going to Bethlehem – there’s no way around it. And it’s just ahead.
- advent in the frenzy: as it always was (motheringspirit.wordpress.com)