Tree still not up. "Seasonal flowers" from Wal-Mart have wilted and will be thrown out today. Still need to get gifts for seventeen nieces and nephews (probably gift cards), wicked MiL, downtrodden and whipped FiL and one aunt in nursing home.
Paul almost finished his office. He had an employee party there the other night and it was spectacular. I thought we'd be eating pimento cheese sandwiches and standing on drop cloths, but no, one of his employees is an awesome cook and another is a great organizer. It looked fantastic. And because half of the employees are from India, there was some fabulous curried something or another from what the Indians say is the only good restaurant in town. I had a cold and was just trying to remember (and hear) all the names. It's really hard to take in foreign names spoken softly when you're on cold meds. Truth is, I think I'd have a problem with these names without seeing them written down. And while I wish them a Merry Christmas, I really wasn't sure whether to say so or not. The first picture to get hung up in Paul's new office was a map of India. (Paul has a software development company and nearly all the programmers are Indian. Not on purpose. It just happened. They have the best training. Paul isn't exporting jobs. He's importing Indians. But this is the topic for another post.)
Paul came home and crashed and burned. After months of overwork, he was exhausted. He also caught my cold and has been in bed ever since. So even though we planned to put up the tree, etc. after the office party, it didn't happen. It's not something I can do by myself (or that he can do by himself). So it's still to be done.
But it's okay. The world stops at Christmas. Christ is born and the world stops. I think that's what I love most about Christmas Day. It all just stops.
What doesn't get done is insignificant. What does get done is also insignificant. The world stops. There is a gasp. Christ is born.
I welcome his freedom and peace. (I'm still working on that death-to-self and obedience stuff, and he appreciates that I'm working on it and that I want to be what he wants me to be.)
Turn on some carols and go do something to help somebody in need. That would be me -- come on over and put up the tree, okay?
I'd skip it (yes, I'm that old) if it weren't for Lily. We need to put up our tree. We need to unwrap the beautiful manger scene that was Paul's grandmother's. I found it in a box, all carefully wrapped up, on the street in a pile of garbage. Paul's parents threw it away when they were cleaning out his grandmother's house after her death.
It was a manger scene that his grandmother had gotten from a friend. Hand-painted, somewhat tacky ceramics. The wise men have colored rhinestones, as does their camel. But AK, the initials on the bottom of each piece, knew what she was doing. The painting is exquisite, with different textures of glazing on the garments, the animals, the people. It is absolutely beautiful.
Lily and I love to unwrap it and I watch her set it up. The animals used to get special prominence (there are sheep dogs and everything) but now the baby Jesus is beginning to get the star treatment.
So yes, we'll put the tree up. And I'll burn a pine-scented candle to make up for the fact that there is no pine scent, just attic scent. And Christmas will come. I'm all set to stop.
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