The Hopes and Fears of all the years....

I love the Christmas carol, Oh Little Town of Bethlehem, and over the Christmas season the words "The hopes and fears of all the years are met in thee tonight" are sung silently to myself. The winter days before the Solstice are dark and bring with them a time of inner reflection. Our world becomes smaller or less distracting without the long evenings that can lure us outside into our gardens or for long walks. The insides of our homes become more of a focus with the gardens under snow and the earth frozen. With the darkness comes nostalgia, grief, reflection. There is also the hope as the light returns, "Yet in thy dark streets shineth the everlasting Light."
Each year as I prepare for the holiday season, and the gathering of friends and family, I like to give my house a good "rub down". I am very much bound by the seasons when it comes to the rituals of housecleaning. I have always done a "spring cleaning" although many years due to the contraints of time not as thorough as I would of liked it to be. At Christmas I also like to wipe down the house to prepare for our guests. Most years find us with a houseful and many adventures. This year it is not to be and there will be a different kind of celebration, and with work in town and the schedules of our busy teenagers I found myself unable to do the usual winter clean of our home.
I discovered many years ago that one of the ways to avoid the pressures of the holiday season was to let go of as many expectations as possible and to focus on the welfare of others. I am very fortunate in my work as a Social Worker to have a lot of opportunity to do that and there is much that can be done to ease the stress of the holidays for others. This year I reflect on our home and despite the lack of security that we have I feel the strength of our family and friends and that becomes our true "home for the holidays."  I have a strong image of the homes in Japan being swept away in the tsunami, and know that we are not alone to feel such a threat of loss. Home is truly where the heart is.
Despite the transient nature of our homes it is still a delight to decorate them for Christmas. This in itself is a path to memories of past family celebrations and people who are departed and those that live far away. One of the most impressive Christmas celebrations I have ever attended was at my father's Aunt Jacqueline's home in Switzerland. Her husband was a well respected Doctor in Geneva and she was a concert pianist thus their apartment was often used for entertaining. The large rooms lent themselves perfectly to gather in entire families. She purchased a tree that brushed the ceiling and decorated it herself. The tree was revealed by dramatically flinging opening the doors of the parlour.

The Christmas tree in Tante Jacqueline and Uncle Mico's apartment in Geneva.  Tante Jaqueline gave us some of her decorations that she used that year. The tablecloth on the small round table is now used as a tree skirt on our tree.

Our Christmas tree on the farm, 2011.

Some of the Christmas decorations that Tante Jacqueline gave us, they are now almost 40 years old. 

I am listening to Tante Jacqueline play the piano. I may actually be sleeping here but I do recall going into a deep dream when she would play. She had incredible talent.

Tante Jacqueline's living and dining room would be full of tables for the dinner.

My cousin Caroline and I in the matching plaid dresses. We were always given matching clothes during these family trips.

I close this passage with a Christmas poem about our house. May everyone find their light in this season. May everyone be happy.

To fall in love with your house,

gazing, lost, at a light fixture.

Or onto the knots in the wood ceiling,

allowing the very essence of that building into your heart.

The many marks of time, growth, victory.

All of that and suddenly more,

the light as it falls on the windows, the soft yellow of the kitchen.

All this time I thought the being mattered more than the matter,

but now I don’t know.

The armchairs sit like old friends, slightly hunched and waiting.

the table is calling for work, food and flowers.

Floors, chipped and needing a good washing.

I want to take it all into the bath with me, a good long soak.,

shake it out and hang it into the sweet breeze.

All of this living, it just doesn’t seem possible that it has been with us this long.

The corners where the mice lived, the wood carved by the pet bird,

Not everything has been kind to this house.

Indeed it has been threatened and harsh words have been said.

For all of that I am sorry now,

deep in love.

Will you forgive me?