Last night was poop. Literal poop! I got bit by the nasty bug and at a damn unfortunate time. Good news: it was nothing a good howling cry, Gilmore Girls, Mary and Tessie and a erudite book about vampires (yes, it is possible) couldn't fix. Oh...and a major prayer of apology and night long candlelight vigil to Jesus because today is HIS birthday!
I am in a bit of a mad dash today.
Agenda:
Wash dishes
Wrap presents
Pack for the next two days
Pole-pole-POLE
Blog in celebration of Christ
Blog in stark contrast to yesterday's wholly ungrateful mess of words strung together
Get fancy, I mean really, fancy for Jesus
Mass
Food
CNN documentaries on Christ
Food
Sleep
It is 11.06 am and ONLY the dishes are done. When I was a little girl my grandmother once told me washing dishes was a special time because you could be very quiet and daydream about anything you wanted. Ever since I have been a hand washer....
This morning I remembered some things I hadn't thought of in a long time. When I was a very little girl department stores like Sears and JC Penny would send out ENORMOUS catalogs. After Thanksgiving my mom and I would drink hot chocolate (with marshmallows) out of our delicate Santa Claus mugs while I circled which toys appealed to me most and then I would create a letter to Santa on stationary with holly and a candle at the bottom of the page. I would diligently address the envelope to the North Pole. I know now where they went...as I came upon one just recently. I suspect Santa left it behind for me to keep in my scrapbook! He must have known one day I would turn into an avid paper crafter...wise old guy!
I also remember Christmas Eve bedtime was contingent upon me spotting the "Star of Bethlehem" in the sky. I sat at that window for hours on end...searching for the brightest start I could find because surely Jesus' star shone brighter than any start in the universe. I climbed into a red (certainly NOT fire retardant) nightgown and feigned sleep until I fell into sweet candy dreams.
Yesterday I met a sweet angel named Margeaux. She was walking around the farmer's market with a sling (as if to hold a baby) filled with broken, powdered candy canes. She had a mess of red curls pulled back with a headband resembling a crown. On her face was the most perfect constellation of red freckles. When she walked up to me I thought of Strawberry Shortcake. She was dressed in eleven shades of pink and had silver sequins Uggs to top off her outfit. With every ounce of confidence her six year old world still owed her she said, "Would you like a Candy Cane?" I responded, "Sure." She showed me her faux baby sling filled with the broken bits. I asked her, "Are you selling these?" She said, "Yes." I said, "How much?" She responded, "Oh, they are free." To which I quizzically looked at her and said, "So you are not selling them?" She stood her ground and said, "No." I believe we were both confused.
I asked Margeaux who she belonged to. With beaming pride she said, "My dad has the blue tent over there. Do you see it? He is the French man with CRAZY hair! We are from (such and such farm). I've got to go now."
That is EXACTLY the type of little girl I was...minus the European outfit! (Sorry mom...but you would have NEVER allowed for that!) I needed to meet myself again yesterday. And I needed to meet myself again today-through this letter to Santa. And tonight, at Mass, I will meet the big girl version of myself and thank God that He would deign to walk among us.
Tonight I celebrate MY KING...and I know MY KING is the incarnation of little Patty and entrepreneurial Margeaux...his love is just that joyous.
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