Christmas Blues

It's like I can't have a good day.

Bo just called, and he asked me how I was doing. It's sad to admit this, but generally when he calls, I'm in a nasty mood. What does that say about me? I don't know. But, usually, I'm overwhelmed, depressed, anxious or grieving about something. Either I have a kid who isn't cooperating, or I have an appliance or vehicle that's broken, or I need to do something that I'm unable to do because of time or money.

Today, none of that was the case: I have a few groceries--not much, but enough to keep us fed for a couple of days; I taught my Women's History class today (more like faciliated, because the girls really do the majority of the talking) and it went well; Bard received her PSAT scores, and she scored in the 93rd percentile, her highest section landing her in the 99th percentile; At the thrift store, I found a stack of vintage white shabby chic style dishes to use for large gatherings so that I no longer have to use paper plates (21 dishes in two different, yet very similar, patterns) for less than $6 total; I was able to find 15-year-old son Houdin a $2 jacket for his in-character Dickens stint on Friday night (he's to be Peter Cratchit, Bob's eldest son, and he's roaming the streets of our town with "Uncle Scrooge" and "Tiny Tim"), and, in the process of searching, found him a black leather jacket that fits him perfectly...for $1; I'm not in great pain today, which is unusual, though my hip and thigh, which have been nagging me with a dull ache for weeks, are getting worse.

And I've been a decent mom, even. Can you believe it? We celebrated St. Nicholas day yesterday, the kids got bags of candy in their shoes this morning, and I made a batch of cutout cookies last night before they went to bed. I must have warranted a bonus of some sort, because I awoke this morning to Sweetheart beside me with a tray--breakfast in bed for me! Homemade granola, whole milk vanilla yogurt and a little pitcher of homemade eggnog. PLUS a little pair of angel earrings that she bought yesterday for $1.

So, things have been going generally pretty well today, wouldn't you say?

Then, just a little bit ago, Bo called. And I was able to say, "I'm doing pretty well, thank you. How are you?"

Well, it turns out that, while he sounded non-panicked and optimistic, he was calling to inform me that our loan officer for our mortgage has requested a meeting with us. He's known about it for a week, but the meeting is scheduled for tomorrow. Our mortgage has been running behind by one month consistently, and, she says, "the powers that be" are giving her a hard time. We need to talk, she says.

I feel like I'm slipping back into "Bah, Humbug" mode...but I won't. I won't let it happen. Even if it seems like SOMEONE, SOMEWHERE wants me to give up.

Blech.

It's like last year, on Christmas Eve, when I got a speeding ticket, though I was on cruise control going 60. He clocked me going 70, he said. And Merry Christmas. Just what I needed.

Years ago, when we first moved into this house, our whole family was sick during the holidays. Bo was incredibly sick. We found out later that he'd had pneumonia, bronchitis and sinusitis. On Christmas Eve, we had no gifts, no Christmas tree, and no plans for either. I had a majorly sick spouse and a mildly sick baby (she ended up with pneumonia, too). I called my mother-in-law in tears. She sent me this:

FIRST CORINTHIANS 13 [CHRISTMAS VERSION]

If I decorate my house perfectly with plaid bows,
strands of twinkling lights and shiny balls,
but do not show love to my family,
I'm just another decorator.
If I slave away in the kitchen,
baking dozens of Christmas cookies,
preparing gourmet meals
and arranging a beautifully adorned table at mealtime:
but do not show love to my family,
I'm just another cook.
If I work at a soup kitchen
carol in the nursing home,
and give all that I have to charity;
but do not show love to my family,
it profits me nothing.
If I trim the spruce with shimmering angels
and crocheted snowflakes,
attend a myriad of holiday parties
and sing in the choir's cantata
but do not focus on Christ,
I have missed the point.
Love stops the cooking to hug the child.
Love sets aside the decorating to kiss the spouse.
Love is kind, though harried and tired.
Love does not envy another's home
that has coordinated Christmas china and table linens.
Love does not yell at the kids to get out of the way,
but is thankful they are there to be in the way.
Love does not give only to those who are able to give in return; but rejoices in giving to those who cannot.

Love bears all things,
believes all things,
hopes all things, and
endures all things.
Love never fails.
Video games will break,
pearl necklaces will be lost,
golf clubs will rust;
but giving the gift of love will endure.

-AUTHOR UNKNOWN

That brought me to my knees in prayer and confession. And I've kept the copy of that e-mail to pull out every Christmas holiday as a reminder of what's truly important.

If we end up living in a cardboard box at the bottom of the ocean, all I've lost is a home and my stuff. My family and my salvation can never be taken from me. They will both last long into eternity.

It's time to hug the child(ren) and kiss the spouse.