Dec. 07, 2004 - 21:46 MST

THE WONDERING JEW

'Tis The Season

U.S. consulate hit in Jiddah, Saudi Arabia, roving gunmen stirring up more trouble in Baghdad, bad things happening around the world everywhere.

I pause and ponder, isn't it about this time of year that most people on this dear earth celebrate peace, brotherhood and love to all ?

Hanukkah a celebration of victory of old, somewhat after the day of atonement, but still the menorah reminds us of the miracles that once happened.

Not too far after Ramadan.

Christmas, truly a day of celebration and devoted to love for one another as per example, giving of things to each other that will make life a bit more pleasant. A time for family to gather, feast and fellowship, and draw closer in love.

Myself at this time of year I get all crumbly, and wide eyed, going back to the wonderland of Robert Louis Stevenson's "A Child's Garden Of Verses." Everything new and novel, exciting to the senses, discovering so many things. Realizing once again the love of parents long gone but lovingly remembered. Memories of the first Christmas tree I can remember seeing, being held in Daddy's arms to see the decorated tree with candles alit, reflections glimmering in the windows, the heavy smell of fresh evergreen - in our house and not in the mountains. So, all through the years there have been great times at the end of the year for us. Even through the depression, though the stocking might be slim there was a world of love in which to happily bask, a togetherness that others didn't seem to fathom. Heather and I celebrating our first Christmas together, Christmases as our family multiplied, seeing the wonder and joy reflected in our children's eyes, reliving it a bit ourselves through them.

It never grows old and stale to me -- I don't go to the frantic malls, get-eyeball-to-eyeball with the TV or read all the multitudes of ads. I do notice in passing that the newspapers turn into "ads" papers with little tiny snippets of once current events.

On a very small scale Heather and I are caught up in the mystery and love of Christmas, preparations for feasting, a few presents bought, a trip to Oregon to look forward to, all things that bring happiness to our hearts.

But today Christmas came to us by surprise. We went to the postoffice and found some Christmas cards and a key. Neither of us were expecting anything, especially big enough to be put in to a separate P.O. box. There was a box that barely fit, I pulled it out and it was addressed to us. I could see who sent it, but just couldn't imagine what that person could be sending us that was that big and heavy.

Delaying the pleasure of discovery we proceeded to do what we went out to accomplish, arriving home as usual in the dark. Unloaded the groceries, etc. plus THE BOX.

Acres and yards of bubble wrap with a heavy nugget in the middle. Gradually it came to light. A beautiful and tasteful album of memories of our son who died 31 May, this year. Stuff I had sent that dear friend from Rob's funeral and Memorial Service, plus words I had written in grief, cards from friends enclosed for us to open and first of all a beautiful letter from that blessed woman, praying that we wouldn't be upset.

This from a lady who I began to communicate with about five years ago when we were both posting comments to Al Schroeder's "Nova Notes," journal. Seems we both thought much alike and did let our addys show. We communicated, became acquainted and the more I learned of her the happier I was to have a new friend. A friend who had a cute, sweet little daughter, a friend who on down the line gained another daughter and a baby son, who is now at the stage of stair clambering and doesn't like to be brought back down. A friend who has a journal, a friend who belongs to a group who post things to each other and the group, as do I.

Many things sent in the way of cards and notes from members of that same group. In this group I have a cyber Aunty, a cyber brother and two cyber sisters -- sort of mutually adopting each other as it were.

It is hard for me to express just how this has affected me, but many of these folk have suffered more and survived than Heather and I have yet. But perhaps it is because they can look back and remember, that they are so kind to us who are yet to cross some of those bridges. Soon I will end this entry and go back and leaf through this magic gift of love from those whom I love very much.

Some nights there is even a halo around the moon and love burgeons everywhere, as I pray it will all over the world -- someday. 'Tis The Season . . . . . . .

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