Life in My World -- Decked Be Our Halls

Thursday we put up the nativities, spread the garland on the mantel, fluffed the tree and spread the hand-quilted skirt carefully underneath it and said, “Decked be our halls.” It took all of ten minutes. I love it when people decorate beautifully and I am inspired by what they do. I appreciate being invited into those homes and businesses and feeling the festivity and beauty, but I’m also okay with our simple decorations. Clark taught me that . . .

I used to hope I could make a more ideal Christmas –

--a Christmas with a tall, fresh, good-smelling tree with beautiful and sentimental ornaments hanging from the no-needle dropping variety branches, not a $29.95 artificial tree (with a $30 rebate) from Home Depot with dried orange slices

--a Christmas where the cookies, breads, orange rolls, popcorn balls, caramel, turtles, peanut brittle, and toffee were made by December 21st and neatly stored in stackable rubber main containers ready to eat or give at a moment’s notice, not where a little is baked today, a little more tomorrow, some more next week and then we’ll be out of what was baked today so we’ll start over and never have it all done at the same time and definitely not stacked neatly in a container.

--a Christmas where big wreaths hang from doors, windows, and fence posts and snow falls gently, not a little snow today and a-lot-of-rain-melting-it-tomorrow type weather and no wreaths

--a Christmas where all the gifts are wrapped attractively with tags even and ready to give early, no last minute scrambles and dollar-store-easy-to-poke-a-hole-in paper.

I used to wish for more ideal Christmases, but then one day in class I played the song from Handel’s Messiah that quotes Isaiah, “For unto us a child is born, unto us a son is given and his name shall be called wonderful, counselor, the mighty God, the Everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace.” A young man with down-syndrome was quietly mouthing the words as the song began to play. Knowing he loves music, I paused the song and asked Clark if he’d like to stand and sing the song for our class. He beamed, stood, and hurried to the front of the room while I restarted the music. He faced the class and stood at attention, tapped his hand against his leg, and mouthed each word in perfect rhythm throughout that four minute song. His words were sometimes whispered, warbled, and unclear. Not the ideal performance. Or was it? As inspiring as Messiah is, I’d never before felt when hearing it what I felt while Clark sang it as a solo. Imperfect as his performance was, it was faultless. Reality had reached the ideal.

Clark’s impromptu performance taught me that Christmas can be ideal even with a $29.95 tree, our decorations less than breath taking, and our goods less than perfect. Because of the birth of One perfect man who walked this earth, reality will eventually reach the ideal in all matters of real importance. In the meantime, I love Christmas, imperfect as our celebrations may be because there’s a whole lot more perfect in practice than I supposed.

I’ve watched this video over and over. I would have joined them, probably even stood up on a chair to rally others.  I was given the enthusiasm to sing, but not the voice. No matter.  That’s what practice is for and someday my reality will reach the ideal, but in the meantime I'll have to just practice with perfect enthusiasm.