The joy mixed with sadness

Some sit under the tree. Others have already gone into use---the new slip-on low-cut boots from LL Bean, the salami and three kinds of cheese from Litehouse, Annie's bright-red furry slippers from J.C. Penney, Bill's Down South CD's, created to benefit Katrina survivors, sent from his twin sister Margaret.

Many others wait for more attention and appreciation at appropriate times, beyond the moment of exposure from their temporary abodes within their festive boxes or bags---the books, the calendars, the garden fairy for guarding next summer's beans and carrots, the health club passes, the hammock made from parachute fabric.

Yes, the gifts were abundant this Christmas 2005, but the most precious will never occupy space beneath a tree or anywhere tangible, for that matter, except within our memory. And, oh, what a bag of memories there are. I couldn't have scripted a better list of desires to send to Santa than those which unfolded over this past couple of days. While enjoying each unique moment, however, a quiet sadness gnawed away at my heart about the events of another Christmas several hundred miles away.

In our case, the images of these festive family times could fill an album, but, as always, a few stand out.

• The usual Christmas Eve pizza party topped off with its traditional gift revelations at the Colburn house.
  
• The visit to Bill's newly renovated Presbyterian Church on Christmas morning, where the pajama-clad blended with the suit-and-tie crowd while sharing coffee, laughs, hugs and general good fellowship before breaking fresh and delicious bread during an unconventional but meaningful Christmas service.
  
• The coordination and conviviality among family members while preparing a sumptuous feast of ham, turkey and the usual trimmings followed by predictable post-dinner lethargy of over-stuffed stomachs and glazed faces. Why did we eat so much?
  
• The after-dinner bonfire---a new event (a new tradition, we hope) where tractor and 4-wheeler rides through snow-covered woods beneath jewel-filled night sky certainly etched abundant and vivid imagery to be tucked away in all our minds forever. As orange embers leaped wildly into to the sky like Fourth of July fireworks, 16 family members, ranging from 3 1/2 year-olds Jacob, Justine and Grace to 84-year-old matriarch Virginia, roasted those marshmallows, belted out those Christmas carols and engaged in strategic, sometimes brutal snowball combat. Cameras rolled with video or flashed for digital images of the revelry. As the tractor and 4-wheeler, both loaded down with bodies representing four generations and escorted by other family revelers, headed back through the pastures to the house for pumpkin, berry and pecan pie, singing continued along with the pronouncement that this must happen again. A great gift, indeed, on this long winter's night.
  

There were many happy gifts aplenty here in North Idaho during this Christmas celebration. But, there has been sadness too, as Debbie and Willie have maintained a vigil with her family in Boise where her grandfather remains gravely ill. It was not the joyous Christmas they had planned, even as recently as a couple of weeks ago. They knew they'd spend time with her family in Boise but certainly not in a St. Luke's hospital room.

I thought of them often during our lively and festive celebrations at this year's family gatherings. I wished for the power to bring some sense of comfort to these painfully sad moments in their lives which will, no doubt, remain as etched as the happy moments we were experiencing 500 miles away. I still have no antidotes to offer this morning, other than we keep them and all of Debbie's family in our hearts and prayers.