The Reminder

I spent the day with my daughter and granddaughter. It was a day to lay my writing aside and make some memories instead. This post was originally published on December 7, 2016. Be blessed.

 

She had been burning the candle at both ends.
She knew it but she had to get things done.
She knew her attitude was not the best.
But all of the preparations do not just happen.

All of the gifts do not buy themselves.
All of the cards do not get magically written.
She was losing her Christmas spirit and she knew it.
She just didn’t know how to get it back.

She had Christmas all planned in her mind.
Norman Rockwell couldn’t have painted a more appropriate scene.
She wondered who she was doing it all for.
She told herself it was for her family but she was beginning to wonder.

Her friend had already mailed all of her cards.
The neighbor across the street had her wrapping all finished and tended to brag about it.
The woman at church completed all of her baking and was delivering cookies to others.
May be she was doing it all wrong.

Maybe she didn’t get the memo.
Maybe when the holiday genes were handed out, she was absent.
The tears were close all the time.
Her patience was wearing thin.

Merry Christmas to me, she said sarcastically to herself.
She couldn’t even tell her own husband how she was feeling.
He had been suggesting that she take a break and let some things go.
He doesn’t understand, she told herself; He doesn’t have to do it all.

Neither do you, a still small voice inside her seemed to say.
She shook her head trying to erase the voice that was making more sense by the minute.
She pressed on because that is what was expected.
Expected by whom? The still small voice seemed to ask.

The house was decorated but she complained the whole time she did it.
I have to do everything, she said under her breath.
She looked into the family room and saw her husband playing with the children.
Nice. You get to play while I get to work, she muttered to herself.

Then there was dinner to cook.
Couldn’t this be a pizza night?
Do I have to do everything?
I didn’t sign up for this.

She was beginning to believe the loud clamor inside her head.
The more she believed the clamor, the more it became a me against them.
The more it became me and them, the more annoyed she got.
The more annoyed she got, the more she just wanted December 26 to come.

She felt a bit bratty.
She felt like the ugly mood hung over her like a cloud.
The children seemed noisier.
They were getting into everything.

If she had to settle one more argument between them.
If she heard one more ornament fall to the ground and shatter.
If she heard Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer sung the silly way one more time.
If she was asked to read, How the Grinch Stole Christmas yet again.

She had errands to do.
Her husband would spend the afternoon with the children while she finished her to-do list.
She gave him a weak kiss as she left the house.
She barely said goodbye to the children.

She felt like she was given a reprieve.
She stepped outside and breathed for what seemed like the first time in weeks.
She had to run to the UPS store.
She decided that would be her last stop.

Long lines were everywhere.
Her limited patience was growing thinner by the minute.
The perky salesgirl said Merry Christmas in a way that bothered her.
She doesn’t really mean it, she said cynically to herself.

The afternoon alone that was supposed to rejuvenate her only made her more annoyed.
At least the chaos she felt at home was her chaos.
This was just ridiculous!
Merry indeed!

She pulled into the UPS parking lot and got out of the car.
She was eager to get home and have a cup of tea.
I hope I can at least have my tea uninterrupted, she complained.
She was already planning a way to retreat once she got in the door.

There were lines in the UPS store as well.
A woman and her little boy came in before her.
The woman walked up to the counter but the little boy stayed behind.
The little boy stopped at one of the counters that had tape, pens, and paper clips.

She watched the little boy.
He looked a lot like her little boy; he was about the same age.
He could barely reach the top of the counter.
He seemed to know exactly what his little fingers were looking for.

He found them.
He grabbed one at a time.
She watched him as she waited in line.
The little boy picked up one large paper clip at a time.

He fingered them and searched for the open end.
Once he found it, he grabbed another paper clip.
He nimbly attached the second paper clip to the first.
He repeated the steps ever so carefully.

He was making a perfect paper clip chain.
He was having so much fun.
He was entertaining himself quite nicely.
He looked up at her and smiled.

He held out the chain which had about five paper clips.
You are doing a great job, she said to the little boy.
He smiled quite proud of himself as he grabbed another paper clip.
Can I help you? Another sales person asked her.

She walked up to the counter, almost sorry that she could not see his finished product.
She placed her packages on the scale and began the shipping process.
When she was all done, the sales person handed her the receipts.
Oh, I just ran out of staples; I’m sorry, the sales person said.

He handed her the receipts, which he held together with a large paper clip.
She looked up at him and thanked him.
Merry Christmas, she said and meant it.
She went out the door and saw the woman buckling the little boy into his car seat.

She went over to her.
Excuse me; may I? She asked handing her paper clip to the little boy.
The mother smiled a confused smile.
The little boy took the paper clip and expertly attached it to the chain he had in his hands.

She got in her car to drive home.
A song from the new Amy Grant Christmas CD was playing.
The song touched something deep inside.
The song showed her where the problem had been all along.

It was with her.
It was the state of her heart.
It was her discontent.
She was exhausted and she knew it.

Her husband was right.
She needed a break.
She had to let some things go.
She played the song on repeat all the way home.

Oh, when you open up that door to old familiar rooms of love and laughter,
Coming home, just the way you are, knowing this is all that really matters,
To be together, at Christmastime.  (Amy Grant, To Be Together)

She pulled into the driveway.
She was home.
She opened the door and the sounds that annoyed her before were now music to her ears.
Her husband was on the floor playing with the children.

I’m home! She announced happily.
She was home and it was good, oh so good.
Anybody want to string some popcorn tonight? She suggested.
Can we eat some, too? One of the children asked as her husband kissed her.

Welcome home, he said tenderly.
She got out the twine and the popcorn.
She found a large paper clip in her desk drawer.
She put it on the kitchen counter as a reminder.

I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances…I can do everything through Him who gives me strength. (Philippians 4:11,13)