Clump #124: Fill window boxes; make sandwiches.
The following is a cautionary tale. I’ve been thinking of my son quite a lot these days. He’s in Norway for a year and, especially now with his sisters home, there’s an empty space where he should be. Our Quaker Meeting’s annual candlelit Christmas music program was this evening, and he has always participated with the other members of our musical clan. On the night of last year’s program, getting everyone out the door on time was a major challenge. The accumulated stress of the holidays combined with the “Where is everyone?!!“-frustration caused me to lose my temper. And then I thought I overheard our son say that I was “ruining Christmas.”
We somehow managed to get everyone into the car and to the program. I waited until after the festivities to tell our son that his comment had really cut me to the core. He told me that what he had actually said was, [about our lateness] “It’s not going to ruin Christmas.” Afterward, he wrote me a wonderful letter saying that he would never say such a thing; that I do so much for everyone at Christmas, etc.
However … between the time I misheard the comment and the nice resolution, I really had to admit to myself that a case could be made for my ruining Christmas. Trying too hard for everything to be right can really backfire.
Here’s one thing that helps me let go: relying on a favorite recipe that I don’t even have to think about. These sandwiches have become my go-to as a contribution for the reception after the music. I used three packs of King’s Hawaiian Sweet Rolls, cut open.
This is half of them. Slap mayo on one side, jellied cranberry sauce on the other. (I end up using the whole can.)
Add sliced turkey breast; a pound and a quarter. I’m a sandwich-making machine!
And then lettuce. (shot through rose-colored glasses?)
Pop them together, and they look like this:
I was told they were good. By the time I came for some, they were gone.
I was able to stick evergreens in our window boxes earlier today. Yesterday the soil was still frozen. I loved the name “Swag in a Bag,” from a local gardening club sale. The gardening ladies trim their trees, I get some inexpensive house decorations, and the club gets a little money. Win, win, win.
This is what one bag looked like with our little tree in the middle:
And with ribbon woven through the base, as the day darkened before 5:00:
But the good news is: we’re past the Winter Solstice! Hooray! Every day will be a little longer now.
And we can shed our own light, in the world and in our homes.