Tis the season...

 December 18, 2024

Tis the season to be jolly! At least that’s what the popular media, as well as most if not all of the retailers would have you believe. For those children whose tradition includes the celebration of Christmas, the words wonder, and magic would seem to be synonymous with the Holiday. Yes, of course, they have visions of sugar plums – as well as the latest new game or gadget or gizmo – dancing through their heads. Childhood, after all, begins with a tiny human only being capable of thinking in terms of “me” and “my”. But if we do it right, they progress from that state of self-obsession, and eventually grow in the art of thinking beyond themselves to thinking of others.

I personally believe the litmus test for reaching adulthood is when one thinks of others before oneself. But I digress.

Part of the hustle and the bustle of this season of Christmastide is the growing excitement, lights, spectacles, and music. For many, especially those whose outlook is less “worldly” this truly is a season of joy. Christmas commemorates the birth of Jesus, and the Bible tells us that the angels, in announcing the Savior’s birth, brought “tidings of great joy which shall be to all people”.

But for many, this time of year can be an emotional mine field. Some people are grieving, and grieving is a valid part of the life experience. Others are teetering on the edge of solvency, and stressed by the constant struggle to put food on the table and keep a roof over their heads. In our early years as a family, David and I often struggled to provide a good Christmas for our children because our means were spare. We somehow always managed, but I can’t say we always did so gracefully. The effort to provide something special for Christmas often resulted in a scramble to catch up that lasted at least two or three months after the event.

However, I can honestly say that our children don’t recall a Christmas that wasn’t special. That’s a major source of quiet satisfaction for me. They never saw the worry or the anxiety back then. And that was one of our major achievements.

There are toy drives, and Christmas baskets, and they are amazing things. If everyone gave something, then a lot of people would be blessed: not just the recipients, but the donors as well. Give what you can, and know that doing so is a very good thing.

Christmas can be especially hard for folks grieving, because joy is the polar opposite of grief, and the more joyous something is, the more the contrast between the two can cut and wound.

It’s good to be mindful of the people in your orbit, to be sensitive to those whose lack of joy may be tied to circumstances not easily visible. They might not just be budding Scrooges, bah-humbugging their way through December. There may be something they’re struggling with, something they’re worried about or someone they are missing desperately, that you don’t know about.

Sometimes the best thing you can do – the best gift you can give – is one of your time and attention. Often, you don’t even need the right words to say. You may not even need words at all.

Sometimes all you need to do is listen. Even though we all have two ears and only one mouth, most of us don’t use them that way. Most of us don’t listen nearly enough.

If you know someone who may not be able at this time of year to “get into the spirit of the season”, perhaps you could take them for coffee. Be there for them, let them know they can say whatever they want, or even say nothing at all.

By giving someone who is hurting your time and attention, you’re showing them that they matter. And that you see them.

And sometimes that can be a most amazing gift.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

https://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

I've never done that before....

December 11, 2024

Well, we had snow. We really did. It covered everything—more or less—and with the sun shining during the day and the freezing cold at night, we had ice, too.

Sufficient snow and ice decorated the out-of-doors that I asked my husband to attach the “ice claw” to my cane. I wait until it looks like I’m going to need it before I ask him to do that, because the device adds to the weight of the cane. It also turns the end of my cane into a potential weapon.

And then, just a couple of days ago, the temperature rose just enough that the precipitation we received became rain. And now, today, looking around my computer monitor out the window and at the wider world, no trace of snow or ice remains.

The greenery won’t last long, of course. We’re smack dab in the middle of winter, as this family defines it: October to March, inclusive. In fact, the weather forecast tells me we’re in for flurries today. Possibly.

Fifty-two years ago today, I gave birth for the first time. It seems just weird that I have a fifty-two-year-old son, but there it is. In fact, on the odd occasion I’m asked, these days, if I have any children, I do reply that no, I do not, but I do have grandparents.

Thanks to the presence of my two oldest great-grandchildren this past weekend, I can report that our Christmas tree is up and decorated. They stay over night one weekend a month, which gives my daughter time with her grandkids. We’ve gotten used to having them, and generally it’s a good, if tiring time for us.

Yes, Christmas is in the air, and for the most part, we’re ready for the small amount of hustle and bustle the holiday brings our way. The gifts that needed to be purchased are here in my office, and while I do have some special dishes to prepare, that’s week or so off yet.

We don’t host the Christmas dinner anymore, and that’s fine with me because I simply don’t have the stamina to produce a meal for a crowd. I think my largest was 16, and while it turned out well, I did need rest for some time afterward.

We continue to make the necessary adjustments dictated by the simple fact of getting older. I find I need to really pay attention to the little things—how I move, and that I’m not attempting to carry too much at one time.

But occasionally, no matter how careful I am, things happen. Sometimes, I’m very, very sorry. And sometimes, I can only giggle.

Yesterday, when it was time to get my legs up in my recliner for a part of the afternoon, I left the office and took with me my refillable water bottle, along with a few odds and ends that I carry to the living room in a cloth bag.

In the kitchen, I put the morning’s dishes into soak, as usual, so that in a half hour or so I could come out and wash them up. (No, I do not now, nor have I ever had an appliance for the task). Then, I took my bottle, emptied and rinsed it, filled it with fresh cold water, and capped it. Since the outside of the bottle was wet, I knew I had to dry it off. And somehow, while reaching for the towel and moving the water bottle into position so that I could dry it, that slippery little piece of plastic flew out of my hands, up into the air, and landed with a kerplunk into the sink of dishes soaking in dishwater.

The tiny splash missed my eyes and hit my forehead.

I stared down at the sink, the bottle visible, and gave thanks that I had tightened the cap well. And as I looked at that submerged bottle I knew with absolute truth and certainty, that here before me was something I had never done before in my entire, longish life.

I fished the bottle out, rinsed it off and then dried it. And a few minutes later, as I settled into my recliner, I was telling my husband that I had done something moments before for the very first time.

He nodded as I relayed the incident. Then he said, “Well, they say seniors should try new things.”

I’m grateful that sarcasm and humor are alive and well in our home.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

https://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury

 

 

It's December already....

 December 4, 2024

I’m not certain, but I think that we are living in an area that may exhibit some unusual meteorological anomalies. Or, in the words of our daughter, “we’re in a weather bubble”.

The only other weather bubble that I have experienced firsthand is San Francisco. I don’t recall the details, but we were instructed that, even though we were going there for the first time, and in the midst of summer, we should pack a sweater of three, as that city rarely gets hot.

They were right. The city of Haite-Ashbury and zig-zag streets was on the chilly side during the entire week of our one and only visit.

Where we are situated on the Ontario map is north of Lake Erie and west of Lake Ontario.

When the winds come from the west and create lake effect snow, we appear to miss out on that little thing. This fact doesn’t break my heart one bit. That’s not to say we won’t get more than the skiff of snow we currently have on the ground outside. I am well aware that we can and will this winter likely be up to our tushies in the white stuff at some point.

But not right now. And not for most of today, at least—if the weather network online can be trusted.

As I write this, that skiff of snow is almost completely hiding the debris on the ground that used to hang on the neighbors’ trees. We were not successful in marshaling the troops to get the second deluge of leaves raked and bagged this fall. That will now have to be job one come the spring—or sooner, if the snow melts as it has in past years, and we get a few days grace during which we can get folks here to do the work then.

It does sadden me that we can no longer do that ourselves. I used to enjoy yard work in general, and especially in autumn when there might be a slight nip in the air, turning my cheeks pink. I never minded raking, grass cutting, and garden tending. I loved spending time outside, and in my younger days would, in spring and summer, often sit outside to read, when time permitted.

Though I have lately not been as quick to spend time in the great outdoors, I’ll still occasionally do so, often with my lap blanket. No sense in courting unnecessary discomfort from drafts on impaired joints.

While we don’t have much snow it has been below freezing these last few days. No question of having the furnace on now, and so far, knock on wood, it continues to work well. Of course, it is a rental, which means we don’t have to worry about any looming expense if it needs repairs. Sometimes it’s just a good idea to anticipate possible challenges, and arrange things so they won’t be a factor.

It's the first week in December, which means we’re approaching Christmas, and the end of the year. I just barely got used to writing 2024 and now, in a few short weeks, I’ll have to get used to writing 2025. Talk about time seeming to speed by.

Believe it or not, I have bought all the “gifts” that we need to give already. Yes, I know that’s shocking and not at all indicative of my usual last-minute shopping habit. Gifts bought, it’s just a matter of stuffing a few dollars into a few Christmas cards, and we’ll be done. Then there’s the matter a smattering of decorations, and, of course, our tree.

You may recall that the tree we’re using these days is on the small side, about four and a half feet tall. When we purchased it, we also purchased several mini decorations to put on it. I’ve grown accustomed to this tree and can even say that I like it.

As well, this year we have our Christmas candle to light, on Christmas Eve. Not certain yet how when or how we’ll do it, but I am looking forward to reestablishing a family tradition that had slipped by the wayside.

Traditions are like the wisps of something ethereal that allow us to visit, if only in our minds, the joys of Yuletides past. And those visits, as insubstantial as they may  be, can be as necessary to the human spirit as food for the body.

 

Love,

Morgan

http://www.morganashbury.com

http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury