Christmastime in our neck of the woods: There’s a flurry of
kindness that swirls like the snow on our front porch, caught in the easterly wind
and whipped like thick white frosting. The doorbell rings repeatedly as
neighbors come bearing gifts. Reminded of the love that surrounds us, I thank
them, and then, as the heavy wooden door closes, I thank the Lord for the
people in our lives. Years ago, when our kids were on the brink of adolescence,
Dave’s old law firm in Pittsburgh made a very nice offer to have him return. It
would have been a good professional move for Dave. But we could not leave the
steady warmth of our neighborhood hearth, and the people who nurture our
children, and so we remain to this day, tucked into the hillside of
north-eastern Farmington Utah.
The season brings not only celebrations and visits, the
gathering and wrapping of gifts, cherished traditions, and baking parties, it is
also the busiest time of year for me, professionally. Before the financial
crash of 2008 my evenings in December involved lugging instruments and sound
equipment around the valley, setting up, waiting for company and church dinners
to finish, singing my stories and other familiar Christmas tunes, tearing down
the equipment and lugging it back to the van, then arriving back home in the
deep of night. Some nights we would schedule two, even three performances into
one night. That was when Merlyn was singing with me and we were young and had
more energy to spare. Finally, as Christmas drew nearer and the party gigs died
down, we had the neighborhood nativity to present. The same equipment was
lugged out to the neighbor’s lawn where our treasured little ones presented the
story of Christ’s birth on the Monday before Christmas. By the time Christmas
itself arrives I am always exhausted. Happy… but exhausted.
Thankfully, years ago, I realized that the wise men brought
their gifts AFTER Christmas. They received news of the blessed birth, but it
took them twelve days to arrive at the stable. Whew! Thank goodness they had a
ways to travel, and camels are relatively slow.
We of the Clan Connors made the decision decades ago to
deliver the gifts to our neighbors as the wise men did, on Epiphany, twelve
days after Christmas. In much of the Christian world this is when all gifts are
exchanged, rather than on Christmas day. Talk about wise! It allows the day
itself to remain holy, undefiled by worldly practices, and it sets up
anticipation for the joy of gifting.
January 6th of this year I loaded our boxes of gifts into
the van and picked up our grandkids, Parker and Ruby, who represent my legs. I
love that they are so willing to help. Through the cold and the wet they run
from doorstep to doorstep, reaching their gift-bearing hands out to the people
who surround us in love.
We are deeply blessed with good neighbors. I’m still trying
to figure out how we lucked out; being placed here in this quaint little corner
of God’s vineyard, where the sweetest fruit is grown.
