I've been running and running. Buying things, cooking things, cleaning things. A burning bush in my ribcage. Love and hope and sorrow. You know, the usual.
This year's tree was my favorite ever. We potted it, so we can keep it. What will it look like next year? We planted our Christmas tree in Goa in the garden after we got it and now, three years later, it's almost as tall as the two-story house. It was a tiny Charlie Brown tree that first year, so how surprising when it grew and grew, grew and grew, till it was a giant, ready to pull up roots and go stomping down Goan streets. To keep it happy, we decorated it every year outside, rather than having an indoor tree.
This year's tree was a Dr. Seuss tree. The kid's loved it on sight, dancing around the plant shop where we found it, hopping from one foot to another. "Can we get it? Can we get it?"
I love that they have no "normal" for the shape and size of a Christmas tree.
Then there were the lanterns, a whole river of them, on Christmas Eve. They went up just before midnight and Chinua and I stood and watched and wished we could capture how beautiful they were. They swirled into air currents like a ribbon of smoke.
There was Sufjan on the computer, singing "O Come O Come Emmanuel," bringing tears to my eyes. And the Messiah by Handel. A swelling in my heart like the lanterns rising.
Carrien's husband Aaron and their oldest son stepped off a bus yesterday, here to visit for a couple of days. We went to meet them in the chariot. Hopping from foot to foot.
In the evening, Chinua bought us our own lanterns, and we released them on our street (YaYa overwhelmed by anxiety over each one until it was safely into the sky.) The very last one was heavy, as Carrien's son said, with our prayers, carrying our burdens.
That very last one was for our dear Ian, brave hero fighting a valiant fight against stupid cancer. Our prayers and love for him growing and growing, while the poor little lantern had to struggle along with all our carefully whispered and shouted words making it bob until finally it found its way through the low air and headed straight for the moon.
YaYa hopped from one foot to the next, willing the lantern to fly. I hop from one foot to the next, willing Ian to be well. And I know that deeply, truly, he is well. And all is well. And our prayers will stomp their way through the heavens. They are heard.