Sherod, Dot and Daisy (and a little whiskey)

The Christmas tree is up–and our house is now so airtight we have to keep the fan on so our gas fireplace stays lit…

Not a single bit of this is the least bit creative or unique. But after 28 holiday seasons together, we will have a quiet Christmas Eve.  I will do the Christmas Eve service at St Paul’s at 6 followed by dinner with friends and time in the morning to open the simple presents we are exchanging this year (I already know one of mine is big and involves chicken wire and furtive consultations about types of chicken that lay pretty colored eggs).  Neither Sherod nor I will be so tired that we barely have the strength to tend to our daughter and our houseguest. If the weather is good, I hope we will take a nice walk by the river.  I am sure I will feel the nostalgia and sorrow of not spending that morning with the men at Vila’s.  In fact, I imagine we will wear our  life like it’s starchy new and not totally comfortable yet.  Tonight, though, it fits like an old cardigan.  Over and over and over again, gratitude at the sheer ordinariness of this new beginning…