Present

The other night, I stopped at the mall for some last-minute shopping. Tired and eager to get home, I zoomed from one pit stop to the next as focused and determined as Tom Cruise’s car racing character in Days of Thunder. The race, however, came to a sudden halt when I encountered the Christmas tree section at a big department store. The trees, brightly lit and expertly decorated, stood silent and magnificently erect in the midst of all the hustle and bustle hurried shoppers created.

I stood still, mesmerized by the glitter; caressing the soft ribbon and pretty ornaments – shopping, purpose, time and fatigue all forgotten. Then I remembered a Christmas, years ago, when I had escaped motherhood for a few hours and had slipped away to this very same mall to buy presents for my family.

Free from little feet too swift to chase and slender bodies that loved to hide beneath clothe racks, I strolled about leisurely, gazing at storefront windows and bobbing my head in tune with the merry music of the Season.

Back then, I had met the same majestic scene: Tall and dense Christmas trees, some lush and green, some sparklingly silver; all of them perfectly decorated with elegant ornaments and matching ribbon. I, too, had stood in awe and had thought with a mix of shame and self-pity about the limp fake tree we decorated every year with cheap ornaments bought on clearance or at garage sales.

One day, I had consoled myself with the thought, we’ll have a tree like these.

But this night, years later, the beautiful sight made me sad for a different reason.

It’s been a while since we discarded of the poor rickety tree we had gotten at Wal-Mart when the kids were little. Finances have improved so we are allowed the luxury of a fresh-cut evergreen, which we get every year on the day after Thanksgiving. We decorate our tree with precious handmade ornaments our kids crafted throughout the years and with ornaments collected on family vacations or received as gifts from friends on previous Christmases.

I looked at the fancy ornaments hung from the trees at the store and compared them with the ones hanging from our tree back at home. Few are as delicate and as costly as these, yet each one of ours has meaning and a rich history that makes them priceless to us.

One day, I pondered with sadness, I’ll probably have a tree like these.

I pictured myself as an older woman, in a clean and perfectly organized home, putting the finishing touches on a beautiful tree like the ones at the mall. By then, my children would be grown and no longer living at home, and the memories of a sorry little tree with cheap ornaments that didn’t match would warm my heart on a cold winter night.

Oddly enough, the words of Cindy Crawford came to mind as I reflected on my future. I had read an article about the super model and entrepreneur. When asked what she would like to accomplish in her forties, she had answered: “I’d like to be present.” After experiencing fame and success, she had realized she wanted to be “present” for herself and for her family. “I don’t want to be so rushed,” she continued, “that I miss what is right in front of me.”

Right in front of me.

What was right in front of me, at that mall, were beautiful trees that might represent something in my future. But at home I still have a tree not-so-perfectly decorated, a house in the constant disarray caused by loud, hungry teenagers that rush in and out of my kitchen and family room like Attila the Hun and his rowdy troops, and a life that is worthy to be savored to the fullest extent.

So I decided then and there that on this Christmas, I will give myself a wonderful present (pun intended), which I plan to open every morning of the year: Freedom to be there for those I love and permission to enjoy the gifts each day brings.

And my Christmas wish for you, my friends, is that God’s grace will abound in you so that you may be present and able to recognize and to enjoy each and every blessing He richly bestows upon you.

“The clock is running. Make the most of today. Time waits for no man. Yesterday is history. Tomorrow is a mystery. Today is a gift. That's why it is called the present." Sun Dials and Roses of Yesterday: Garden Delights, by Alice Morse (1902)

Enjoying the Ride

I pranced down the stairs, rubbing my hands excitedly. My husband had left for work, the kids for school, and I was about to treat myself to my favorite show while I folded laundry and caught up on my ironing. I didn’t have to leave for work until later, so that would give me one whole hour all to myself before it was time to get ready. One whole hour without anyone asking me for food, clean socks, money or a ride.

That was the life.

As I made my way to the family room, the shrill of the phone ring caused me to halt. Who could it be? I cringed. A telemarketer, I’m sure. I tried to ignore the call, but the motherly side of me wouldn’t let go.

Say it’s a recorded message from the school! Say it’s a recorded message from the school! I chanted as I made my way to the phone. Fat chance. Those pre-recorded, automated phone calls the school makes to announce something usually come in the evenings.

The caller ID box read “Peoria School District”. Rats! This couldn’t be good. I picked up the phone and uttered a weak hello.

“Mrs. Stine?” a friendly voice asked.

Oh, oh. This was definitely not good.

A tiny creature clad in a tight red outfit appeared out of nowhere and landed on my left shoulder. He whispered, “Just lie, woman! Nobody will ever know. After all, you don’t sound like a Stine. Just say she’s unavailable or something.”

“Don’t do it, Ana!” cried a winged little creature, dressed in a white robe. She stood near my right ear waving her tiny hands in earnest. “Remember: Lying is wrong!”

“Mrs. Stine?” the voice at the other end of the line asked again. I motioned for both creatures to zip it. I can only pay attention to one person at a time, and that with great difficulty. They vanished with a puff.

“Speaking.”

“This is Ms. Hostetler, head nurse at Ironwood High. Your son is not feeling well and we were wondering if you could come pick him up.”

Rats, rats, rats! The school is 20 minutes away from my house. By the time I came back, it’d be time to jump in the shower and start getting ready for work.

My luck exactly.

I told the nurse I’d be on my way, begrudgingly grabbed my purse and my car keys, and left the house.

I turned on the radio hoping to improve my mood, perhaps even my attitude, which wasn’t exactly exemplary at the time. Christmas music filled the air. I began to relax and soon found myself smiling. Memories of past Holidays when Ron and I were newlyweds and when our children were little eased my frustration. Such wonderful memories. Next thing I knew, I was already at the school.

My teenage son came to the front office looking relieved. “I’d hug you, Mom,” he said, “but I don’t wanna get you sick.” How sweet. I wouldn’t have traded this moment for anything in the world – not even my favorite show. We got in the car and conversed briefly, then Ronnie leaned against the seat and we were placidly quiet for the rest of the ride. An immense sense of peace filled my mind, so rare during this hectic season.

Every year, I begin the Holiday Season with great expectations for the things I’d like to accomplish. I want to decorate my house and send pretty Christmas cards. I want to buy and wrap our presents with plenty of time. I want to bake enough cookies to share with our neighbors. And I really would like to remember watering our evergreen before it looses most of its needles and turns into a fire hazard.

But as Christmas Day draws near, my plans dwindle. Reality gradually sets in and I’m forced to pick and choose what I can actually do. However – in spite of my gross ineptitude and ensuing disappointment – Christmas has always been great fun at our house. No matter how crazy and how messy things get. No matter how little is “accomplished” or how incompetent I feel, nothing has quenched the joy this Season has brought to our family.

I turned to look at my son while he rested in the car. How amazing, I thought realizing the ride to and from school had actually been an enjoyable one. We got home. Ronnie went to bed. I got myself ready and, after making sure he was comfortable, left for work feeling renewed.

Dear friends, it is my prayer for you that even if things don’t go exactly as planned, you may still delight in this Season. That in the midst of the busyness and the ruckus it often brings, you may somehow focus on the Reason we celebrate and that your heart is merry and light. And I pray that this Christmas – just like I did this morning – you are able to enjoy the ride.