Going viral

Chris, the baby boy born on the Philadelphia train on Christmas Day, had his entry into the world well documented and his unusual birth was reported by news organizations around the world. What if the same had been true two thousand years ago?

We would have to accept that baby Jesus was darker skinned than artists have since depicted. As the story went viral, we would really see him as the babe in the manger, squalling face and all. His human-ness would confront us and we would realize that diaper rash, first steps, the terrible twos, and learning the “ABC’s” were ahead of him.

Parts of the well-known story would be filled in. Did that innkeeper call for the local midwife? Did Joseph remain with Mary the whole time and coach her when to pant and when to push? We would all see the terror and joy in the teen parents’ faces, Mary’s exhaustion, Joseph’s frustration at the shoddy surroundings, and their fear at being so far from home just because they were doing what the law required. They both knew that it takes a village to raise a child, and here they were, all alone, with their firstborn.

Perhaps viewers would text and donate to help the family get better accommodations. Shortly, however, they would have some expensive presents to post on EBay to cover the costs of their flight to Egypt, where they would be immigrants, and their return to set up shop and a new household in Nazareth. A shepherd would post a video of the angels on You Tube and we all could see and hear the heavenly host.

OK, you get the idea which I’m sure is not original. But where this musing ultimately led me was to the discovery that I want to have a conversation with those who prayerfully considered what to keep in and what to leave out of what we know as the Bible. By not including material on nearly three decades of Jesus’ life – the Facebook and social media equivalent pieces of the day to day of his childhood, adolescence and through his twenties and which surely existed – we are left to struggle with the concept of God/Human, and, in that struggle, I think the ‘human’ gets the short shrift. In an era when our heroes often dominate headlines because of their human failings, it would be good to have more of a record of the life of the person, our brother, born to be the ultimate hero.

Marilyn

My nose knows holidays

No matter where you are from or what holidays you celebrate, we all learn to associate certain smells with particular festivities. As you read about my fragrance memories, I invite you to recollect what your own nose knows.

Holidays mean a time of year. Growing up Christian in Buffalo, NY, Christmastime meant cold and snow, and unless, you’re around it and are sensitive to such things, you may not realize that there is an odor to winter’s cold. It is a crispness, which, I’m sure has degrees that hunters, farmers, and gatherers identify and have tracked for millennia.

Holidays mean symbols. My dad and I would go tree shopping and bring home a fragrant blue spruce that rested in a bucket of water on the back porch for several days before it was moved into the living room to be decorated. The scent of pine and the outdoors lingered on the porch and adorned the whole house.

Holidays mean special foods. One day in mid-December I would come home from school and, with the scent of anise in the air, know that cookie baking and decorating was the happy activity for the rest of the afternoon. Christmas Eve meant oyster stew before the 11pm church service where candles burned bright. Strong coffee in the percolator to accompany the trays of sweet treats welcomed guests at the house after the celebration. There was always a tangerine in the toe of my stocking and Christmas breakfast included a yeast-based coffeecake that my mother called kugel and grapefruit with a side of a candy cane, for we would sip the citrusy juice through the peppermint stick. Dinner was lamb with all the fixings for a large feast that ended with mincemeat pie which had smelled wonderful while baking the day before. For those who wanted an after dinner drink, crème de menthe was served in small glasses that I still have.

Holidays means relatives. Uncle Bob and Aunt Dorothy spent Christmas Eve and Day with us. He wore Old Spice on special occasions and she liked lavender. My aunt Alice who lived in England would often send something she had knitted and which retained a woolen-y smell even after years of washing.

Holidays mean fun activities. The church youth group would go tobogganing and there would be the smell of wet clothes when we gathered for hot chocolate in the lodge and there would be more hot chocolate after an evening of caroling. When we were sung out and reached our final destination, there would be a fireplace for warming up and roasting marshmallows.

Holidays mean feelings. As I discovered a broader world and was exposed to a variety of sacred and secular holidays, I also came to understand that families have their own traditions and that not everyone’s special days are happy. The smell of liquor often means that over the course of the party some relative gets nasty. In many houses there are no delicious special smells because parents struggle to put basic necessities on the table. Even those with plenty can get stressed with all of the expected specialness and the air around them smells tense and tight. I have also learned that there is a smell to lonely, which is what the holidays can trigger for so many. This is a smell that we have to also sense with our eyes, our ears, and our hearts.

As I enjoy the scents of the season this year, both of my own making and what comes my way, I want to be intentional about seeking out the smell of loneliness in myself and in others. I will hope to do something that provides an alternative fragrance, one that might, at least momentarily, make this holiday time something that can be enjoyed and treasured.

May all the warm scents that mean good things to you be yours through end of this year and into the next.

Marilyn

Wrapping paper and safety pins

For the last decade of his life my brother and I had ongoing fun conversations about things we could invent that would make us rich. Our goal was to create something simple and so obvious that people thought they needed it (wrapping paper) or really did need (safety pins). I don’t remember many ideas that we humorously tossed around, but we would call one another and say things like, “Ear warmers for pet bunnies!”

This came to mind as I was wrapping presents to send to my grand-nieces, granddaughters Ron never knew. In order to begin that project I had to find the plastic bin that houses all the wrapping paper and ribbons. You’ve got a similar something yourself. Well, from my recent move I knew that it was on the top shelf in the closet in the den. I’d forgotten that there were lots of other things piled on top of it, so there was some maneuvering required to get to the 2 different rolls of paper leftover from last year. If Ron was around I would call and say, “A garment bag for wrapping paper.” I’ll bet if I checked out the Container Store’s website they already have that.

Once wrapped, the presents needed to go in a box to send. If Ron was around I would call and say, “Precut packing tape of different sizes.” Someone probably has those in production somewhere.

In the 20 years he has been gone we have not reduced our usage of wrapping paper. One source says that we use two million tons during the holiday season. That’s 30 million trees for a product that is difficult to recycle and that many don’t even try to. If Ron was around I would call and say, “Easily recyclable wrapping paper!”

Ron and I didn’t spend that many Christmases together because of the age difference and locations so it was not holiday memories that made me nostalgic while wrapping the presents but the memory of our game of inventions. Remembering that made me smile. If Ron was around I would call and ask him what he liked on the most recent Shark Tank. He would have loved that show. Whatever makes you nostalgic this season, may it also end up making you smile.

Marilyn

Old fashioned words

Most of the popular songs of this holiday season have been around for decades. Each generation dons their gay apparel while learning to fa la la or rum pa pum pum. From Silent Night to Jingle Bells, from carolers at the door to humming along with the radio, we find comfort in the familiar and in annual traditions where such songs are enjoyed. But how often do we really pay attention to the words? Well, if we did we would see that carols are full of words that we no longer use in every day conversations. Words like joy and rejoice, hark and herald, glory and gloria. In fact, my computer automatically capitalized that last word, making it a name instead of a noun.  

On the other hand, some of the words, like calm and bright, are common and used in different contexts , like “calm down!” or “what a bright child!” that their meaning for the season needs to be clarified. And who ever examined or understood auld lang syne? Like Sally told Harry, “maybe we’re meant to remember that we forgot. Anyway, it’s about old friends.” Her practicality hastes us to the feelings that accompany different stanzas and tunes. Mommy kissing Santa may make us smile and sleep in heavenly peace make us wistful or teary.

With all that as a foundation, my tiding was going to be that we be intentional about the words we are singing or enjoying, try to be conscious of their meanings or images. But then I realized that was an awfully big order and I know that I would end up losing much of my enjoyment of the tunes if I concentrated solely on the words.

So I’m going to borrow an idea that a blogger friend posted last January. She challenged her readers to pick a word for the year and shared that hers was joy. A pretty good one for December. I’m going to suggest you take your favorite carol or song and select a word or phrase that becomes your theme through the holidays. I think I’m going with ‘wonder,’ both a verb and a noun and will anticipate feeling awe and admiration for some miraculous and remarkable happening – I will wonder as I wander, every day.

Let me know what word or phrase you pick and may such a simple activity of paying attention make these days merrier than we’ve had in long time.

Peace,

Marilyn