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As they days grow slowly longer, may we also grow to love one another and to learn to live in peace. Holidays are about peace, not hectic, frantic madness. I admit I love shopping, and I admit I try to start early, but remember that sometimes the best gifts are those we can't buy. For me, I want my dad to stand up again, and to try to walk. I bless the girls who help me with him, who are my new found sisters. Other simple gifts are the emails from my friends who are ill, or those who are far away. It's the last Christmas poem our good friend Steve from Writers; Group wrote to us last holiday season. It's Rick from across the street coming to help me shovel Dad's walk, even though he has a stint himself. "Mom said to come help you," he told me with complete guileless, innocence.
It's my late friend Kathy, who brought me a box of cards as a gift, because she knew I couldn't get out to buy some to send out.
My best memories are of my mom and my grandparents, who knew the value of little gifts, and small kindnesses.
Keep warm this cold winter night, and bless the shortened day, and read Rosamunde Pilcher's, Winter Solstice.
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