 Romance/Love: December 09, 2009 Issue [#3433] |
  Romance/Love
This week: Edited by: Fyn  
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Christmas, children, is not a date. It is a state of mind.~~Mary Ellen Chase
If there is no joyous way to give a festive gift, give love away.~~Unknown
Time was with most of us, when Christmas Day, encircling all our limited world like a magic ring, left nothing out for us to miss or seek; bound together all our home enjoyments, affections, and hopes; grouped everything and everyone round the Christmas fire, and make the little picture shining in our bright young eyes, complete.~~Charles Dickens
Somehow, not only for Christmas, But all the long year through, the joy that you give to others, is the joy that comes back to you. And the more you spend in blessing, the poor and lonely and sad, the more of your heart's possessing, returns to you glad.~~John Greenleaf Whittier
Christmas--that magic blanket that wraps itself about us, that something so intangible that it is like a fragrance. It may weave a spell of nostalgia. Christmas may be a day of feasting, or of prayer, but always it will be a day of remembrance--a day in which we think of everything we have ever loved.~~Augusta E. Rundel |
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Observations from a Frazzled Fyn
This time of year is usually frazzling in some shape or form. For example, I'm writing this newsletter, editing a poem, putting back all the counter stuff in the kitchen that was moved because we installed the back-splash yesterday, cleaning the spare room that got buried when I frantically emptied the closet looking for a lost Christmas present, cleaning the house and decorating because we have out of town company arriving tomorrow. We have our annual Christmas party on Saturday which happens to coincide with our first anniversary. Just prior to that, more out of state company will be arriving. Decorations are scattered, but not 'placed' yet. The dining room table is buried beneath wrapping paper, tags and bows as well as stuff from the kitchen. His hunting gear is draped over every available chair. In other words, chaos reigns at the Fyn household.
Stressed? Nah, not me! Right. I'm not even convinced about that! Standing bewildered in the midst of the mess, my husband asked what was wrong. I shugged, saying nothing. "Hun," says my wise hubby, "You'll get it done. Think of it as a poem or short story you are writing. All the pieces are there, you just need to organize them and write it." Got to love the guy!
But he's right. The ideas fly and they need to get parked, each in its own little place where it will make sense to the writing.
Looking around, the logical side of me says that this is impossible and we'll never get it done. I can hear echos of my mother's voice spouting mom-ly things like, 'You should have organized better." or "That's what you get for wasting so much time on the computer." Yes, well...be that as it may...
We'll muddle through it and do so with laughter and giggle and silly comments and much stuffing of 'stuff' into closets. It will work.
While wrapping a very special present for my hubby, I was reminded of a present I gave my mom several lifetimes ago when I was seven. I wrapped a big box with the fanciest paper I could find in my mom's room. I used a whole roll of tape and at least ten big, shiny bows. Mom saw it under the tree and started to freak. Mid her going on about y using the special paper and all her good bows (not last years), I proudly said that it was her present. A moment of silence followed and she asked if maybe she could use one or two of the bows I'd plastered her package with. I agreed since she'd already seen how beautifully it had been wrapped.
Christmas morning, it was her last present to open. She commented that the box was very light for such a big box, and then proceeded to carefully remove every bow before unwrapping it to save the paper. Using her fingernail to slice through the tape, she lifted first one flap of the box and then she other. She looked inside, and then looked at me.
"There's nothing inside." Grinning, I told her that, yes, there was and to look again. She did and just looked at me expectantly. "Love, Mommy," I said. I packed it full of love! Don't you see it?" She peered in again and took handfuls of the love out and then wrapped me in a hug saying that it was the very best present she'd received.
All the glitter and fancy bows, all the decorations, feasting and family--what it all comes down to is love. Best present to receive and by far, the best to give!
Merry Christmas everyone. Cheerful celebrations all. |
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and because it really fits this time of year, I humbly offer the following.
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Adriana Noir  writes: Awesome advice, Fyn! It's not always easy to be mean to our characters, but oh what great stories it makes!
Right you are!
Katya the Poet  says: Ah! Thank you so much for including my poem in the newsletter. However, now I keep contemplating it in terms of the "bad decisions" theme!!
None there! Too funny! |
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