Travel Team finally got them booked into Laguardia, with a connection to the big city from JFK. When they arrived at JFK, their connection was delayed by an hour and a half. He rolled in at 12:10 this morning.
Yesterday, I read in Dirt Road Ramblin, one of the journals I am linked to, an entry about Christmas and how much the writer enjoys all the hullabaloo of this season. My own tradition has been the keeping of Advent. When the children were young, we had Advent cards, with a religious theme, that we opened everyday. I would read a verse or two from Luke's story, beginning with Zaccharia and Elizabeth, then we would light the candle on the wreath, sing "Come Thou Long Expected Jesus", and open a new window from the card.
It was a wonderful time of my life. I made just about all the presents that were given, beginning in early October, or late September, and working up to Christmas Eve. Beginning the first of Advent, the house was full of the fragrance of Christmas cookies, the fruit cakes soaking in brandy, the yeast breads and the cakes. Projects would be stacked around the house, and my lists would be taped up on the dining room and kitchen walls.
One memorable day, when we were living on our farm in New England, the rector of our church stopped by just to visit. I hollared "Come in" from my chair at the sewing machine (which was set up on the dining room table, so we had to eat around it for 5 or 6 weeks), and waved him to "Sit down anywhere", as I kept on stitching madly. We talked for a few minutes, my eyes glued on the project, when I realized he was still standing. "Sit down, Ed, I'll get you some tea in a minute," I urged. He looked puzzled; "Where?" he asked. There wasn't a surface that wasn't covered with Winnie-the-Pooh characters in various stages of completion! This was the occasion that inspired Lyra to sing, "Christmas time is drawing near; can't you tell by the mess in here!" I am a good mother, however, and I accepted this judgment with good humor, even if I did privately think that this 13-year old had gotten too big for her britches.
Those were the days when I was an "at-home" mom. I loved being there; I was never a good housekeeper, but I was a dandy homemaker. Maybe that distinction is out-of-date now. Martha Stewart wouldn't have been so popular, then, because many of us made things with our hands, anyway, and the skills were handed down from generation to generation. One year, after she was grown up, my daughter gave me a plaque that has on it a saying that I was fond of quoting from my Grandmother: "Use it up; wear it out; make it do; or DO WITHOUT." We both laughed when I opened the gift, but it certainly was appropos.
Do I mourn those days? No, of course not. Life changes, and you change with it or die. As the children grew, I still made presents, but now it was more frantic because I was also going to college and working full time. I could sometimes coerce them into helping me with the construction of things, but mostly they kept the rest of the house perking along so that I could spend my spare minutes at the sewing machine. The baking was done with their help, also.
But we always kept the Advent tradition going. When we had the Rose, the wreath and the Bible story fell by the wayside; but making presents didn't. Now that we are free from
the responsibilities of the shop, the Advent wreath has found it's way back to our table. I no longer make presents, but I will again, someday. I will retire in a couple years, and that is one tradition I am looking forward to reviving. One thing has been constant throughout the years; I cry when I hear the Magnificat sung or Luke's version of the birth of the Child, and I get choked up when "Come Thou Long Expected Jesus" is sung in church. When I hear any of these, those precious days with my little ones, especially in our house near the shore in New England, fill my heart and mind.
Dearly Beloved is home, safely, but exhausted and with either a bad allergy to something or the beginnings of a lulu of a cold. He had a horrendous day yesterday, trying to get home. When the four of them got to the airport in Madrid, they found that their plane was delayed 10 hours (!), which would then get them into Chicago too late to get a connection home. His boss went to the phone to get Travel Team's help in finding an alternative (they have an international 800- number), while DB was trying to find a connection from the counters. It was a madhouse, as you might imagine.
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