Blessings of the Season

Wonder is defined as a cause of astonishment or amazement, and it is also a feeling of doubt or uncertainty. Stealing this theme from our church’s sermon on December 8, I want to reflect on the wonder of this Christmas Season.

Those of us of a certain age know the arc of Christmas from our own lives, lived over decades. The first years are magical. We then pass through a period of change when we leave our childhood Christmas behind and move into a transition often filled with loneliness that may hopefully land in a time of renewed magic (and I use our Christmas tradition for a sense of longing and discovery that, I hope, our non-Christian friends also experience in their own family traditions). What I see in this ebb and flow of wonder, magic, disillusionment, and restoration is the constant of change. Some changes in life are welcomed changes, while others can feel like appeals for patience or even trials. I remember clearly when one of our children asked “How do you wait?”, paraphrasing a message heard. After a trip to Best Buy last week, I am asking “How can I install a 'pause' function on my life, living in this moment" like all the gadgets in this store? I have concluded that we can only anchor our hearts to hope, and hopefully faith, in the times when the course is not clear.

Paul and I had a great time last week, traveling to Rockport to attend David Benoit’s performance of “Charlie Brown’s Christmas”, the core music collection at the heart of the Williams Christmas playlist. I remember where I was standing, in Towson, MD, on the evening nearly 30 years when Debbie and I purchased that CD from a wise store clerk who told me we would love Vince Guaraldi’s masterpiece. We did, and we still do. It stretches over a life from the protection of a parent’s love and a hazy time where mortgages and retirement planning did not intrude. Christmas gifts were once extravagant, and we now try to restore some modesty without becoming too transactional about it. So it is with some effort that I reassure Anne, as she selects courses for the Spring semester or muses on a college major, that these are still choices of abundant opportunity: the decisions you make at the beginning of a journey can always be adjusted as long as you are paying attention and do not hesitate.

Debbie traveled to Chicago on Friday to spend 10 days with Abbey, and I am taking the opportunity to clean up the year at work, run down to New York, and take care of the Christmas chores that I cannot ask anyone else to complete for me. I helped one of our friends pick out a tree in Connecticut on Saturday (probably the most perfect tree ever…see for yourself), and I rummaged through the recycling to find a box sturdy enough to hold Secret Santa’s gift. I told my sister that I would love another Hermes tie, and then I quickly reversed (she just might have rewarded my greed, and that would not be good or right).

My first gift to Deb this year will be to find a tree and do most of the preparation work without being reminded. Wreaths are up. A miniature version of the Rockefeller Center tree sits proudly on the front steps under cover that needs lights strung later this week. And I will recruit Paul to move furniture and prepare a space for the holiday festivities before Deb returns and I go pick up Anne. Abbey and Ted fly in just before Christmas. 

Unconsciously, we were transitioning our Christmas Eve tradition from one that we all shared during the kids’ childhood to one which, I hope, accounts for our changing lives and homes. For the third year, we will attend the Festival of Lessons and Carols at St. Paul Parish in Harvard Square on December 24 at 3:00 PM, https://stpaulparish.org/, and we will precede this service with brunch at Henrietta’s Table with members of Deb’s family. I am not sure why this service resonates so strongly, but it is one that lets the Scriptures and sacred music do most of the talking. The mystery of music, performed by the Boys’ and Mens’ Choirs of St. Paul, strip all of the shopping mall and Cyber Monday intensity of Christmas out of Christmas Eve and leave us alone with our meditations and hopefully our faith. Last year, as the priest sent us out into the winter chill, he closed with the haunting words of John 1 “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” So, too, am I left with the last five words in Norman Maclean’s masterpiece “A River Runs Through It”, “I am haunted by waters”. These two simple and mysterious references are on my heart as we move into this Advent season as we are both alone with our thoughts and overjoyed with time together. It is a time of wonder.

We have spoken to many of you over the past month, and feel lifted by your love and wishes that we had hoped would be the abundant fruit of this site and blog. Please feel our gratitude for you and your family this Christmas season as we turn our wonder into our present days. We have lived lives rich with blessings, and I seek to maintain that sense of gratitude even as the childhood longing for that one more gift is never far from mind. If I could make one request, many of our friends attend churches with prayer lists, and several have asked if Deb could be added to their church’s list. Yes, is our answer. We seek healing and wisdom in these times. We attribute miracles to things like hockey teams. Our prayers are for a miracle right here, right now, in humble anticipation as we celebrate together in gratitude for all that we have.