December 25, 2008

• Christmastime
  once again is here, my friends, and my heart is full, as hearts tend to
  be during this holy, stressful, joy-filled, busy, bittersweet season.
  I
  have a feeling your hearts are as full as mine is, with all of the
  emotions that well up so strongly during these sunshine-shy days,
  during the long winter nights spangled with the glow of Advent candles
  and Christmas lights and the twinkle of starshine.
  My heart is full  — of longing.
  Longing
  for my dear ones who are far away — both for those who are in different
  places on the map of this country, and those who are far away in that
  joy-filled land where there are no more tears. I’m especially missing
  my older son Alex, who’s out in the faraway Rockies, spending his
  second Christmas in Boulder. He has the day off from the Mediterranean
  Restaurant, where he’s a grill chef, and will probably get together for
  a meal with friends. We went out there to see him in August, and I
  probably won’t see him again until next summer. A few days once a year
  is just not nearly often enough for this Mama to see her firstborn
  child. I’m longing to sit next to him and listen to his stories and
  laugh, and think about how much he reminds me both of my Daddy and of
  his Mississippi grandfather, both big storytellers who had the gift of
  holding their audience in the palm of their hands.
  I’m missing my
  dear sisters, my lifelong best friends, and their children, and my
  sweet little brother, and faraway friends in Mississippi and Florida.
  I'm missing my cousin Beau in Louisiana, who’s always been more like a
  brother to me. I’m especially missing my little nephew Ben, who
  confided to Santa Claus he wanted a MOOSE for Christmas this year. I’m
  missing Mama and Daddy, and my grandparents, and my dear aunt Mimi, who
  have all flown away.
  My heart is full — of memories.
  Memories of
  long-ago Christmases. The Christmas when I was a little girl living
  with my family in Whidbey Island, Washington, when Daddy gave me and
  Cissy both our very own pair of little red wooden skis. Alex’s second
  Christmas, when, after he had torn open two or three gifts at his
  grandmother’s house, he looked at me and said, “No more pwesents, Mommy
  — dat's enough.” Jamie’s first Christmas, when his favorite object
  among all the toys and ornaments was a bright red apple, which he bit
  into, then crawled all over the house with it poking out of his mouth.
  My Daddy’s last Christmas in 2004, when Doyle and I went to his house
  in Sarasota on Christmas morning, and my husband fixed his special Eggs
  Benedict, which Daddy adored, and we all had such a happy visit.
  My
  heart is full — of anticipation. I’m looking forward to so many things.
  To our first Christmas in our new home, which will be shared by Doyle’s
  daughter Erika and her friend Mike. To the arrival of our first little
  grandson in February in faraway South Florida, where Doyle’s son Robert
  and his wife Christine and their three daughters are expecting little
  Robert Parker DeWoody. To our first springtime in our new house, when
  Doyle and Ruby and I’ll get to see what bulbs pop up in our yard, and
  delight for the first time in the blossoming of our very own dogwood
  tree. To another year of making new friends and growing deeper roots
  into the soil of our beloved Ozarks. To further opportunities to try to
  use the gifts our good Father has given me. To seeing what the Lord has
  around the next corner for us. To new lessons in His school of love.
  My heart is full — of gratitude.
  Gratitude
  for so many answered prayers, for blessings of “good measure, pressed
  down, and shaken together and running over,” as dear old Saint Luke
  said. For answered prayers for our families, for our children, for our
  friends, for ourselves. For our wonderful old Harrison house, where we
  all love living already, and for our warm and welcoming new neighbors.
  For my fun, challenging, interesting job here at the Daily Times, where
  I get paid to write, which I love to do, and for getting to meet all
  kinds of fascinating people and tell their stories. For my bright,
  funny, creative, supportive colleagues. For our church, and for our
  dear pastor, Father Greg Hart, who means so much to both of us. For my
  husband, who never fails to show me every day that he loves me, no
  matter what. For my sons, who are both such blessings to their Mama.
  For all of my kinfolks and friends, including my sweet mother-in-law
  Ruby, who love me and encourage me and pray for me and laugh with me
  and cry with me, and show me what love is.
  My heart is full — of joy.
  Our Beloved has come. Love has won. Let Heaven and Nature sing!
  Merry Christmas, dear friends. God bless us, every one.

  By Celia DeWoody
  Copyright 2008 CPI, Inc.
  Published December 24, 2008, Harrison (Ark.) Daily Times

  • 7:35 pm
  • 3 Comments