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Our final Skagit Valley Chorale Christmas concert is finished. The last concert of the season is always bittersweet. We work so hard to perfect the music, and in two short days, it’s all over. I am very grateful, though, to be part of a group that not only loves to sing, but loves to give of themselves to entertain, to lift people’s spirits and to communicate messages of hope and love. They give of their time and their talents, I think, for the pure joy of seeing the appreciation of the audience. As we walked into the audience and sang the last three songs with them, I could feel the unity. The joy in their smiles was worth all the months of practice. As we sang Peace, Peace on Earth—just for a few moments, and maybe only in that place—it was true: there is peace on earth.

“Now is the time for joy. Now is the time for love. Now let us all sing together of peace, peace, peace on earth.”

hope

The stars last night were brilliant. After several days of rain and tremendous wind, it was refreshing to look up into the black sky with twinkling lights. It made me feel pretty small, but at the same time, immensely grateful. Can anyone looks at the stars and not wonder? I think the sense of wonder is a good attribute to foster. I remember when my granddaughters were toddlers, going places and doing things with them was such a joy. Everything looked more exciting through their eyes. Things I normally walked by, unseeing, were occasions for stopping and exclaiming over. Even the dust motes floating in the air made eyes sparkle. I want to recapture that wonder and brightness of seeing things anew. I never want to tire of gazing at the stars to marvel at the vastness of the universe.

I fell behind in my giving things away a few days ago. So the next day I had to find seventeen things to give away. It is getting to be more difficult. Books—which I had promised to thin down two months ago—still cling to shelves like octopi with super glue. But I’m working on it. That’s all any of us can do.

I wrote a new Advent poem. It is posted under the poetry section of my web site. Check it out.

When I was a child at home, Christmas gift giving was limited since I had little money to spend on something for my four brothers and three sisters. (Actually, I had no money, but my mom could always spare at least twenty-five cents.) When I was really young, we didn’t give gifts to each other at all, but as I got older we exchanged names. I remember shopping at the dime store to buy some little trinket. But what can you buy with a quarter—handkerchief, stationery, pencils, mittens, socks, candy or nuts? Of course, it would be something I would want myself.

My dad always loved nuts and the smell of warmed cashews was just too tempting to pass up. I ordered a quarter’s worth thinking what a pleasure it would be to taste a few of them all warm from the paper sack before wrapping them. They’ll never notice a few missing nuts. Another Christmas I saw the most beautiful bracelet for only twenty cents. I couldn’t believe my good fortune. I chose my sister Milly’s name that year and I was so proud to give her something so precious. The shiny paint was nicked in places by the time she unwrapped it and put it on. She tried to act as though she liked it, but I could tell she couldn’t wait to take it off. I never saw her wear it again and years later I saw it in a pile of discarded odds and ends, like a broken light bulb.

The widow’s mite. We’ve all heard the story how this woman gave what little she had and it meant more than all the rich offerings given from a person’s excess. But what does that mean for me today? To be truly generous must I give to the point of becoming destitute? Must I spend my health and well being by giving my time without limits? Maybe it’s more about trust. Maybe if I trusted that I will have all I need, giving of my time, my treasures and my self would be much easier. Pondering this, I become aware of how much I need to grow in generosity.

It is more blessed to give that to receive. It really is. As a child, I focused on receiving more than giving. The days leading up to Christmas were filled with anticipation of what I would get. I remember the anticipation more clearly than I remember actually receiving.

The giving has remained in my memory, though, especially since my children and grandchildren came into our lives. I treasure the memories of their small faces lighting up on Christmas morning. It’s such a joy to know that what I made or bought and wrapped so carefully is exactly what they wanted or needed. I love seeing the look of surprise as a gift is opened—the look of a child knowing how much they are loved. Yes, I have been blessed by giving.