Christmas

 

Most Christmases of my childhood were spent at my grandma's- strung up on candy, pop, and cable TV.   We'd stay long enough that our belongings were sufficiently sprawled through the house, 'til our toys and socks hid under couch cushions. We took over my grandma's life- she'd stop what she was doing to feed us an endless stream of meals,  her pressing projects were put on hold. We followed her around like shadows, barely giving her enough time to curl and spray her hair.  When we were told it was finally time to drive home we always reacted with the same repulsed, "What?! No!" and begged our parents to stay longer.

  My kids have grandmas with the same knack for kid spoiling. It seems right that the cycle continues.

pre-christmas

well-intentioned

Life distracts me from my good intentions.  On my shelf I have a pile of licked and sealed birthday, thank you, baby, and graduation cards that I've never sent. These are cards that I bought with love.  I smiled and thought of each of the recipients as I plucked the envelopes off the store shelf.  They are filled with happy, congratulatory notes that I couldn't wait to write, written weeks before they needed to be delivered.  But then somehow something always came up- an unknown address, a missed trip to the post office, a slip of my memory, and these cards were never sent. They become distastefully late and entirely obsolete. When I look at my stack of mishandled, neglected, now rejected cards it makes me feel like I have stood-up my favorite people. At this point I don't know if I should trash them or just mail them out with no explanation attached.

When I spend time pondering how to help people in my life it usually becomes clear. I have every intention of making  phone calls, sending a letter, a birthday gift, or delivering dinner but somehow, almost every time time, I get side-tracked and do nothing. I let myself down by over-crafting ideas and never acting.   For this next year I'd really like to be the high efficiency friend, family member, visiting teacher and follows through.

My sister Melissa on the other hand is the type of person that executes. She plans and then follows-up on her good ideas. She's a do-er. She is the type of person that takes her ideas and then gets things done. She shows up with impeccable timing right when people need her.  She'll even come to Iowa, if that's where she's needed.

This fall my sister flew to Iowa with pintrest boards, candles, pillowcases and a designers eye to help set-up my new house. She had researched stores in my area and priced items online. Within a few hours of arriving she had sketched ideas for rooms. She worked for 2 days without hardly even stopping to eat and left my aimless looking house with a welcoming vibe.  Some of my favorite Melissa inspired picks are the Mozart scores above my bed, the well-crafted night tables, silver sage  curtains, teal glass TV hutch, the classy front room design. Her artistic ideas have played out well.  It's amazing what happens when good intentions come alive. 

Nauvoo

 Nauvoo is especially charming in mid October. The leaves have turned colors but still hang to the trees. Sidewalks, shops, and the temple grounds are nearly empty and on the particular day my mom, brother, and I visited Nauvoo there was a certain autumn stillness that made the city feel like it had been preserved just for us.

re-establishing

“I have learned that if you must leave a place that you have lived in and loved and where all your yesteryears are buried deep, leave it any way except a slow way, leave it the fastest way you can. Never turn back and never believe that an hour you remember is a better hour because it is dead. Passed years seem safe ones, vanquished ones, while the future lives in a cloud, formidable from a distance.”― Beryl Markham, West with the Night 

 This past month we have all experienced pangs of home sickness - for our family in Alaska and Utah, for the mountains, for DC, and for all things familiar.  This month it has all sunk that this, Iowa, is where we live. Our Iowa momentum will pick up but the lag, and the the inevitable period of readjustment, has caught me feeling a bit flat-footed.

It's tricky to know exactly how to establish ones self after being uprooted.  It's hard to leave behind kindred spirits, daily rituals, and the connections that make us feel integrated into our own lives. In Iowa I may have an obnoxiously empty schedule. But, I also have 3 cheeky, snuggle-seeking kids that follow me around asking me for hot chocolate and begging me to take them swimming (to which I happily relent.) When it's all boiled down, these kids of mine make me feel right at home wherever I am.  So while I'm not quite sure how I fit into Iowa yet, I'm certain I'll find that nitch.