Our Very Downton Abbey Christmas: Wayward Shepherds Notwithstanding

No animals were harmed in the writing of this Downton Abbey Christmas post. However, a Golden Retriever did scarf down 100’s of spilled Reeses Puffs AND a digital thermometer was thoroughly torched.

 

Okay, so maybe not 100’s.

Still, the dog was pleased to be treated to such a junky snack and what’s more, I let him ’cause I had a meal to cook.

Onward and upward! Let’s all move forward with our noses to the grindstone—or, in Jax the Dog’s case, our snouts to the floor.

***

I’m writing this post as part of my end-of-year reflections; I want to remember our Christmas because it was so perfect!

Or not. 

For example, it took ten long minutes to get a picture of my shepherds and what you DON’T see in the video above are the people that kept passing through right in front of them (we were in a stairwell, after all) and what you don’t hear is the well-meaning older woman in the background saying, “Oh look! Two little shepherds wearing dish towels!”

Eventually I settled.

We—meaning my daughter Cate and I—got the shot (in a manner of speaking) and returned to our pew for the Christmas Eve pageant.

This was the scene in the family pew:

 

Two glowing screens in front of my husband and son;

One stoic Marine and his impish little sister;

A glamorous gam and yes, a mom taking a picture with her cell phone.

* * *

The Mass itself was…how shall I put it? “Raucous, loud and wonderful” were the words I used in my Facebook post—and like the stable in Bethlehem, full of braying animals kids. In terms of emotional engagement on my part, I felt nothing until the very end AT WHICH POINT, after returning to the pew after communion, I cried in gratitude for God’s humility and love.

That was a Moment.

Lately I live for such moments.

* * *

“Merry Christmas? No thanks. My Christmas has been shitty.”

Or how about Christmas Eve morning, early? What a crazy liturgical schedule we had, with our 4th Sunday of Advent celebrated at the Saturday vigil, and then the Christmas pageant and Mass on Sunday afternoon.

(Bear with me here, because you may well relate to the following mental frenzy.)

Another Moment came early on Christmas Eve morning—4:00 a.m. early at a Cub Foods across town, where I found myself picking up several last-minute items instead of doing my holy hour; the adoration chapel was closed.

(Oops! I didn’t get that memo.)

The overnight manager at this particular Cub knows me well—I’ve been stopping by after my holy hour for years. Kim has had a hard life and this year was no different. “I’m boycotting December,” she stated bluntly. “Two years ago, my son was shot; last year, I had a lung tumor rumored; and this year my niece died from an overdose of painkillers.

 

“Merry Christmas? No thanks. My Christmas has been shitty.”

I gave her a hug, which was all that I had. What could I give her? I gave her my heart.

And then I wept when I got back to my car…

And I piled Kim’s intentions on the altar at Mass.

* * *

“We made it to Mass. The rest is gravy!”

 

You’re getting the idea at this point.  My Downton Abbey Christmas was not, in truth, perfect; it was rather a stringing-together of many little moments that make up this crazy gift called life.

 

In the hustle & bustle of post-Mass Christmas greetings, I ran into a friend that runs the confirmation program. “Well, we made it to Mass!” I said with a grin. “The rest is gravy.”

“Exactly!” Elizabeth responded, laughing. “The rest is gravy!”

God is good.

* * *

And so, as I type these words in the early morning quiet of New Year’s Day 2018, with only the hum of the heat vent and an occasional sleepy snuffle from Jax the Dog, I’m able to go deep and think about what I want from this moment…what I want from this day…what I want from this life.

I want to have faith that it will all be okay;

I want to have hope in a dazzling tomorrow; and

I want to love love LOVE to folly and to see in each crazy melted uncorralled chaotic moment the gift that God’s given to me—and YOU—personally, and I want to embrace that gift…unpack it…admire it…share.

And then I want to buy my son another digital thermometer!

And sweep the floor.

And have more coffee.