Now that we have baked our cookies and trimmed our trees,
now that we have wrapped our gifts and planned our dinners,
now that we have hung stockings, sent greetings and set tables,
assembled toys, trimmed wicks, written Santa and hung wreaths,
the time has come to abandon it all,
if only for a moment.
Even as we anticipate our day of celebration,
Wisdom turns to extinguish the colorful strings of lights and dim the gleaming star.
Pinching out her candles
Wisdom sighs the music away, then brushes laughter off to rest in deepening drifts of silence.
Standing in stillness before her window,
Wisdom gazes toward the mystery of Christmas
And smiles at this truth – Christmas needs us not at all. Continue reading

Helping to Weave the Web

When I began posting on WordPress in April, friends from another site held a blog-warming.  There were virtual covered dishes, cyber-cinnamon rolls and coffee, a bottle of wine.  It was charming – an adaptation of an old tradition for a new time.

I’d never thought of transferring the concept of housewarming to a blog, but I liked it.   After all the solitary hours I’d spent at my computer designing a site, revising entries and trying to create something pleasing, it was wonderful to have someone stop by to visit and offer good wishes.

Shortly after I’d begun posting, my mother, who doesn’t care one bit for computers but who tries to be polite, asked, “What’s happening with whatever it is you’re doing with that machine of yours?”   And that’s where the fun began.  “Oh!” I said.  “We had a blog-warming.”  She gave me the look she reserves for certain children and people she suspects of being not quite compos mentis.  “A what?  A blog-warming?  What’s that?”  “Well,” I said, “it’s like a housewarming, only it’s for my blog.”

The silence was deafening.  “You mean people came?”   Knowing I was headed for trouble, I tried to make it sound reasonable.  “Well, sort of.  They stopped by and read what I wrote.”  It was good, just not good enough.  Peering at me over her knitting, Mom reminded me, “But you said it was like a housewarming.  People at least bring food to a housewarming.  Did they bring food?”  “Sure they did,” I replied, throwing caution to the winds.  “They brought cinnamon rolls and coffee, a covered dish, some wine…”

At that point, my mother gave me her other look, the one that says she thinks I’ve been holding out on her. “Are there any cinnamon rolls left? “ 

Now, there was no escaping.  “There aren’t any real cinnamon rolls.  They were just pictures on the computer.”  “Then why,” demanded the most tenacious parent in the world, “are you talking about them? Are they real, or not?  And what good is a pretend cinnamon roll?” Continue reading