Not Home for Christmas

Two years ago in school they told us to enjoy our Christmas breaks cause once we were done with school they would become something we will miss. Now that I am here in Arizona and not home in Texas I am trying to re-define the definition of "home" into a term that feels right. This time last year I was home with everyone which turned out to be a little more complicated than we had anticipated but still wonderful. "Home forChristmas" pulls up images of a delightfully ecliptic tree covered in 28 years of mismatched ornaments, Parker Square decked out in lights and a giant 3.5 story tree, the driveway lined with a string of mostly intact not-yet-run-over lights, constant bickering over whose turn it was to play on the piano, Muppet's Christmas Carol, and 8 of my most favorite people on the planet gathered around the fireplace laughing at something simple and ridiculous.

Still, if I'm being strictly honest I have to say that Texas is no longer home in the strictest sense of the word, namely, that I don't live there and I probably won't be living there for at the very least a few years. I also can't say my entire family is there as I have so much extended family here, plus several siblings and a nephew in Utah. But until Arizona feels like Texas use to, I will continue to be a Texan. This means that at least this year I will have a wonderful and magical Christmas with all kinds of family members here in the world of decorated cacti, but I will not be home for Christmas.

I use to think that being away for the holidays would make me hopelessly homesick and lonely, and as I call home and talk to my sisters and brother and parents and hear the sounds of home filtering through the line I have to admit I do feel nostalgic and more than a little envious, but really, I am alright. I am surrounded by people who I love and who love me. I am busy with work and church and the delight that comes with being alive in this amazing world. I'm not home for Christmas but I'm happy and healthy and excited to spend Christmas here where I am. I may be home for Christmas in my dreams, but in reality I am here, and it is a pretty good gig too.

For unto us comes good tidings of great joy--Christ was born. He really came. How amazing is it that through the power of perfect love and obedience Jesus Christ was able save all of creation that would accept his matchless gift? The battle against sin and evil must have been as good as won as soon as he was born for the heavens to pour out and celebrate the victory of all of salvation. I'd like to think that on that night when the shepherds suddenly overwhelmed by numerous concourses of angles that the gates of heaven somehow could not hold back the joy and anticipation and triumph that ruled the pre-mortal realm that day. How amazing is it that a loving God would grant such a present as his own Son on that first of all Christmases to someone so weak and faulty as me? The promise of the whole human race was held in young Mary's arms that night as she too spent that first Christmas far from home. It truly is wonderful that He should die for me and you and all of us. Merry Christmas. No matter where you spend it, what an amazing holiday to celebrate the most amazing of all gifts ever given to anyone anywhere.

Yay for bodies!

I have been blessed with a body. Sure I have frizzy hair that has a frightening resemblance to a dishwater-colored bush, skin that somehow manages to be both oily and dry, short stubby legs, a rather unfortunate mole right on my chin, scrawny stick arms, and hind-quarters that are awkwardly out of proportion to the rest of my body, but still I am grateful for my body. I love the way it moves--the perfect symmetry of ambulation, the glide of tendons and skin over swollen knuckles, and the continuous swell and deflation of lungs 8 to 20 times per minute of every day. I love the tension of a stretch and the ache of a workout. I love the freedom to get from one place to another without setup or facilitation, the confidence of balance and stability that I don't have to even think about. I love the feeling of the world passing on either side as I run or swim or dance or walk or skip or spin toward my future. The healthy human heart pumps nearly 700,000 gallons of blood per year, the average kidney filters 45 gallons a day, the average 80 year old has walked a total of 108,131 miles--that's equal to walking around the equator 4.3 times. Those are amazing numbers! The human body really is an amazing gift and while I don't always treasure or even appreciate mine, I am certainly grateful for it. 

I work every day with people whose bodies don't work quite like mine. They don't have the ability to pump 700,000 gallons of blood a year or walk with symmetry and safety, they lack the freedom to move their body smoothly and easily from one place to another and often lack the confidence to try. I work with people in constant pain and with limited abilities, people who have to work much harder and still have less success to do the same things I do. When surrounded by a background like this how can I be anything but grateful and awed by God's gift of a mortal body and even more grateful for the impending resurrection when we will all walk and move and succeed together? I think too, as part of being grateful and as part of being cautions that I can maintain my freedom, symmetry, and safety I will continue to move--to dance and play and work and run and smile and stretch and contract. I want to get every one of my 108,131 miles in after all.