Today is December 1. You probably knew that, but it kind of sneaked up on me because I manage a kids' store and Black Friday exists. Everyone gets busy this time of year: there are parties and Tree Lightings and Cookies with Santa and Elf on the Shelf and Sitting on Santa's Lap and I'm going to 'fess up, I dread all of that. Sometimes(read: all the time) it's hard to be a dreamy, perfectionist, creative person because you can, and have, imagined the perfect moment for everything. Like, "Let's go to the Christmas Tree Lighting, on a cold night, and you can all wear adorable hats until it's time to take a picture and then you'll all smile with nothing dripping from your noses and no tears, even though the police car will sound its siren no less than 10 feet away and scare the pants off of everybody!" Or "We should go visit Santa and precious infant will not spit up on her crushed velvet milliseconds before the camera snaps, both ruining picture AND gorgeous dress that will never look quite the same in the one spot and might have cost about 25% of the entire Holiday budget!" The Christmas ornaments won't simultaneously offgas both the smell of bat guano and disinfectant, not causing the newly adopted insane dog to rip things off of the tree to tear them into tiny, bat-smelling shreds.
So, maybe I have seen one or two of my perfect dreams go down the toilet and I may be the teensiest bit cynical about the Holidays, but I love Advent and Christmas and watching my kids with starry eyes as they gaze at the (stinky) Christmas tree and fight about who actually owns which Baby's First Christmas ornament. I love church and greens and singing Christmas Carols. I love reading O. Henry's "The Gift of the Magi" and listening to Dylan Thomas read "A Child's Christmas in Wales"(thank you, YouTube), and I love the story of Jesus' birth--the whole thing--from the Annunciation to the Three Kings and all of the bits in between: Joseph's integrity, Mary's faith, their perseverance amid the chaos of miracles. I love the conversations with my children this Season engenders about how Christmas is a wonderful time to celebrate the birth of Christ, but Easter is the big party! And why wasn't there room in the Inn and why was Herod so threatened by a little tiny baby? I love our overcrowded house and trying to find seats for everybody at dinner. I love eating with Grandmother's sterling and Aunt Winnie's china on top of the tablecloth that Nannan crocheted for us, even when the silver is a little tarnished and the gravy boat is no longer attached to the saucer. I adore the smell of mincemeat pie cooking and everything else cooking and the smell of the Christmas tree when it is new and the pine needles when it isn't.
Maybe I'm not a perfectionist all the time. I think years of practiced imperfection has given me an appreciation of the perfect in the ordinary and the terrible and the ridiculous. My wish for you, in this wishiest season of all, is that you see all of the perfection around you even when it doesn't feel very perfect. Because it is there and it is glorious.
Wishing you all good and perfectly imperfect things!
Love,
Corks
This is why I never want to go to midnight mass with a certain relative. I see work and stress and crying children. But she sees perfection and togetherness and joy. Good job Corks! You made me see her side. But I'm still not going.
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