Beauty

 

About 15 minutes before our friends from the German Baptist church family arrived last night, the lights on the Christmas tree quit working.

I had one of my Irish moments. People used to say that the Irish have tempers, so that's what I'll blame on the outburst of frustration that consumed me when the tree went dark. 

I had spent about six hours trimming and decorating that beautiful tree from the Bill's woods. Those six hours had gone rather well, especially because, one by one, I was joyously removing the protective tissue wrap around my mother's extensive collection of beautiful ornaments. 

In one case, tears welled up as I put one ornament on the tree. 

Mother had made it years ago when she was inspired by her friend Harriett White whose works of crafted art often went to The Crescent Department Store in Spokane for their Christmas offerings. 

I felt an instant, nostalgic connection with Mother while hanging that ornament on the tree. 

And, of course, the fact that all---either carefully selected each Christmas or her own work or that of friends---had been collected over decades and displayed each year as part of the family Christmas tree. 

I especially liked the dough ornaments of my sisters Barbara and Laurie in their English riding ensembles.  Bill thinks my teaching colleague Pat Smith may have created those.  If not, Barbara and Laurie will let me know. 

Anyway, it was comparatively blissful time preparing that tree.  Past troubles with Christmas trees and the words that went along with the catastrophes could almost fill a book. 

The tree looked magnificent, even though I still plan to add some more decorations.  So, I added other Christmas eye candy to the house, and thought how lovely this would be when the carolers came. 

Well, when all those magical colored lights suddenly went out for no apparent reason and try as we might to figure out the problem, it was Christmas tree deja vu for another year. 

About a minute before the first caroler arrived, I tried one more trick----unplugging one section of lights from the other and then re-plugging the remaining sections. 

Voila! They came back on, leaving only the bottom of the tree unlit. 

I hope to find another section of lights today, but for last night's gathering, the mood changed instantly back to what it had been for most of the day.

It only intensified in gratitude, wonder and deepfelt joy as the group assembled on the deck as each carol number was announced, the collective voices gave their heartfelt all.

Just as often happens to me, there were times when we witnessed a little lip movement with no sound coming out cuz maybe the singer couldn't see or didn't know the words. Still, we all went through the motions as others made up for our caroling shortcomings.

It was a short caroling session as they had other houses to visit but after the cookie distribution, Merry Christmases could be heard in the night air as the group headed toward their cars. 

As, always, this experience was a treasured blessing and wonderful escape from the tension and occasional frustration that often comes with the desire to have a perfect Christmas. 

It will never be perfect.  

The tree may fall down or the lights go out, but we can always count on moments like those experienced with last night's carolers to remind us of the perennial perfection that inspires this season. 

Above:  my mother's crafted ornament. 

As a special request, the group sang one more carol for us before they left, "Angels We Have Heard on High."

I shot a video but don't know how to include it on the blog, so will substitute Andrea Bocelli. 

Hope you enjoy.