We have power, WiFi and cell service back. Now we just wait for fuel delivery which I hope will be today. The house feels hot after so many days of rationing the fuel and the heat. Now that we aren’t running the generator, we can more easily let the heat run on its normal schedule.
There is a lot going on here that I am unable to share at this moment. I will hopefully be here daily to update my blog but as it was this past weekend with the power outage, some things are just out of our control. I am focusing my energy on the reason for this upcoming holiday and doing my best to stay true to that goal.
Does anyone go Christmas Caroling these days? I loved going when I was growing up. We always had a group of untrained and unprofessional voices that came together and went out at night, house to house singing carols. We came back home to hot cocoa and cookies.
I imagine so many things have changed, that this old tradition is more difficult. Admittedly, I grew up in a place where everyone practiced the same religion. Caroling was welcome. In more spiritually diverse neighborhoods, this could be seen as offensive and unwelcome.
In addition to diversity, so many of us do not even know our neighbors anymore. In many cases, we are afraid to knock on a door when we do not know who lives there. We are so fearful of what we do not know and do not understand. And most of us do very little to bridge those gaps.
One memory I hold close to my heart was the Christmas my mother was suffering from terminal cancer. We belonged to a little church with a very small congregation. Mom was so sick she could not get out of bed or go to church. I remember lying in the bed holding her as she cried — she was in so much pain. One evening, some of the congregation came to our house, stood outside mom’s bedroom window and sang Christmas carols for her. She was so touched and enjoyed it so much. It is a bittersweet memory. One I will forever cherish.
Now I am off to make a cup of coffee and some toast. Then out to feed the birds and get on with my day.
“But there’s a story behind everything. How a picture got on a wall. How a scar got on your face. Sometimes the stories are simple, and sometimes they are hard and heartbreaking. But behind all your stories is always your mother’s story, because hers is where yours begin.”