A Christmas Kind of Mood

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Mom and Dad prepare the stuffing like Nonna would have.

Thanksgiving was a whirl wind. It went as quickly as it came.  Our family prepares such an abundant feast that we convened on the Saturday following Thanksgiving to share a meal again. I love that. Such a wonderful holiday, and we get to have it twice. Having been so late in the year though, soon after the turkey and stuffing was digested, Christmas preparation was upon us.

It is the first year in the last seven, that I am home for the entire month of December and it has already been something special. Simple things make it so. Nothing extravagant, but the tangible anticipation of Christmas heightens the enjoyment I suppose. The scarcity of the season, only available one month in twelve, empowers us to live and love more freely? Or maybe Christmas music has subliminal messaging that teaches us to be kind to one another. The egg nog is spiked with happiness. The sugar cookie scented Yankee Candle puts you in the mood to bake. Or maybe it is the Holiday Bloom and Cheer Febreeze. That must be it.

In December, people sing along: in stores, at their desks, in the car. I pretty much sing along all year, and mess up lyrics through and through, but during this time of year it is more common and socially acceptable. The inhibited even sing. Some whistle. There is skipping. All do it to the tune of Carol of the Bells or Sleigh Ride. On Spotify, A Charlie Brown Christmas is alive and well.

In the past few weeks, I have spent more time than usual in Michael's craft store, buying Christmas stickers, treat bags, glitter pens, and blank cards. I've done serious time in the baking aisle as well. What to buy, what to buy? Brown sugar, heavy cream, and vanilla extract. Shall I splurge on new muffin pans? No Francesca, yours are fine. A can of pumpkin here and Anise extract for Mimi's Anisette cookies. Chocolate chips of every variation.

Sitting in my pajamas one evening I was working on Christmas cards, cutting out shapes with my Cricut and deciding on a color scheme. From experience, I know if cards aren't started well in advance, I won't finish them. I made some hot cocoa and added a splash of Eggnog as it needed a little dimension. It felt slightly gluttonous and perfectly "holiday".

Christmas card making.

Dad and I went to Corrado's to pick up the tree, a seven foot Frasier fir. It was loaded into the pickup truck and we drove home sharing a little heart to heart. He works quite a lot so any time he has my ear, I come away feeling grateful and loved. At home, James was preparing the pierogi Mom bought from the Polish Church. They are divine-the potato and sauerkraut kinds. He also made cabbage and kielbasa to round out the perfect, comforting meal. We huddled around the table, elbows knocking one another which happens in an average sized kitchen.  Smaller the better I say, as there is more affection packed into each square foot of the space. Take that, monumental kitchens with islands and elaborate cabinetry. (P.S. Don't get me wrong, if I ever came to have a kitchen like such, I would just have to pack it with more mouths to feed and merriment to share - to maintain the good stuff ratio of course.)

In December, calendars fill up with Cookie exchanges, Christmas concerts, and holiday parties. There is ice skating and tree lighting. Menus are planned and dishes prepared. Flannel sheets with snowflakes make their way on the bed. Gingerbread are decorated with candies and icing. Stockings are hung and gifts are wrapped. Regardless of how little they may have, people find a little extra to give to someone else. My friend Joey suggested we start a message chain in which we share daily with each other what we are thankful for. It has become my favorite part of the day.

I often wonder what would happen if we prolonged the season. Why must it only last from Thanksgiving to New Year's? The holidays can be tiring with the planning and gatherings, I know. We need not have cookie exchanges all year, although it would be pretty gnarly. I am thinking more about the spirit of it all. It would be just lovely to feel that warmth and gratitude all year. Maybe reconcile with someone you have been avoiding or donate your time to a charity drive. Make time for a dinner with old friends.

If I am not mistaken, research shows that Jesus was born in the summertime so I think it's only fair we share the love with the rest of the year.

Crafting for a Cause - Operation Gratitude

Working at a Web Design studio, I spend much of my day navigating the web for information and inspiration. While the extent to which people (over)share frivolous information is sometimes alarming, every so often I find a real gem; I was elated to discover Operation Gratitude.

Operation Gratitude "annually sends 100,000+ care packages filled with snacks, entertainment items and personal letters of appreciation addressed to individually named U.S. Service Members deployed in hostile regions, to their children left behind and to Veterans, First Responders, Wounded Warriors and their Care Givers. Their mission is to lift morale, bring a smile to a service member’s face and express to our Armed Forces the appreciation and support of the American people." 

In just ten days, Operation Gratitude will send their Millionth package. Yes, you read correctly: one million packages to past and present heroes and their families. 

Having been raised to consider the needs of others and attending a university that stressed Jesuit values, the notion of service above self has been relevant as long as I can remember. The pressing question remains,  how can we integrate service into our daily lives? Having my fair share of student loans, writing a lofty check to a worthy cause is not an option for me, at least not yet. But there are abundant other ways to help. 

Mother Teresa said it best. 

“Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” 

Operation Gratitude makes it easy and fun to do some good. I like crafting personally, so the hand-made projects looked to be the perfect opportunity. Admittedly, I horde scrapbooking materials and thus had an abundance of paper, decals, stickers, and blank cards on hand. My boyfriend James, a Veteran with twelve years of service in the United States Marine Corps, bought me a Cricut machine for Christmas last year; it was put to good use card making. 

Friends and family were over to celebrate my parents' anniversary, so I took advantage of the crowd, got everyone to the table, and distributed supplies. We decorated Christmas cards and signed them with heartfelt messages of thanks. The guys with poor handwriting relayed messages to be written by their wives; they stuck to stickers and glitter. This unlikely group of crafters made it all the more memorable. 

My friend Lindsay, who makes quite a fantastic Christmas card I might add,  is a school teacher and was motivated to get her students involved too. The children wrote letters to the troops, decorating them with hand-shaped American flags.

Fostering gratitude is important in younger generations. Tthis type of experience will likely leave an impact on them.  As they age, they will hopefully continue to give of themselves to deserving people and causes.

As the holidays draw near, I know not everyone will be home with their loved ones. Some are called to serve abroad and their families are called to carry on at home. Others dedicate their lives to bringing these families comfort and support.  All sorts are heroes in my eyes and it is essential we say thanks...

 Thank you.

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How will you share your gratitude this year? 

To learn more about Operation Gratitude and the great work they do, follow them on Pinterest, Twitter , or Facebook. 

Pocket Full of Paradise

I think "conversations" are named as such because they allow your heart to converge with the heart of another person.  The best of them leave you feeling enriched, inspired and if you're really lucky, renewed. They sometimes move you to tears. So, you look away from your conversation partner or feign an itchy eye. (A propensity for shedding tears has made me quite adept at these maneuvers.) Great conversations are organic and need no catalyst. They just happen, and rattle your core for the better.    

You learn a lot about someone when you take the time to converse. Typically, you can tell what a person values. Their disposition too. Are they a pessimist or eternal optimist? Do they keep a firm exterior, but every so often grant you a glimpse of vulnerability? Do their eyes widen with pride when they talk about their children? Or do they cringe when they talk about an unsavory encounter, as they search for some reassurance that their life has not been ruined even if it feels as such.  If you listen hard enough to someone else, they just might teach you something about yourself too, and remind you of your pocket of paradise.

I find it funny that something special can stare us in the face day in and out and we never realize it until someone else points it out. There are times I feel as if I am in control of or have been able to do very little, until another person convinces me otherwise. Their stamp of approval and reassurance are just enough to override my internal doubt (for the time being). We want different things, things we don't have, until someone tells us that we are lucky to have what we have; for a moment in time we are contented that someone validated who we are, and where we are.  We stop seeking greener grass.    

Recently, I had such a conversation. We talked of snow mobiles, fishing, vacation homes too. Life with kids and how it compares to life before kids, and reservations about knowing when the right time is to have kids. Family dinners and gift giving. What makes a home versus a house? How to establish a comfortable balance of money and time, and determining personal and professional goals. Finding one's purpose, a desire for clarity, and the profound importance of patience and hard work.

I left the conversation feeling grateful for dinnertimes, my family who love me despite my imperfections, for a short commute, a warm home, and the understanding of others. For friends and colleagues, memories from summers at the bay even if we no longer have the house there, and a solid education even though I have loans that are not going away anytime soon. For sausage and peppers, crusty Italian bread, a fire, and the sacrifices of veterans and their families. Grateful for the unknown. Although I hunger certainty, it would be dreadfully dull to always know what was coming, I imagine. Most of all, I was grateful for that candid conversation and a pocket of paradise all my own.                                                                                                                              

A Best Buddy

The sun was shining magnificently during the Student Activities fair my freshman year of college. I wandered around the lawn, from table to table, club to club, trying to discern how I would spend those four formative years of my life. Although I had an inkling of the organizations I was looking for, I tried to be open-minded to the whole experience. Thankfully, my future found me.

Kate was sitting at the Best Buddies table, smiling ear to ear; her warmth drew me in immediately. She was the Buddy Director for the Georgetown chapter of Best Buddies, an organization that facilitates one-to-one friendships for people with intellectual disabilities.  Kate spoke with unmatched enthusiasm and her spirit was contagious. I signed up for Best Buddies on the spot.

My first year of Best Buddies, I was a general member. The years following, an Activities coordinator, College Buddy Director, and eventually the Chapter President. All the while, Kate was by my side. We planned Best Buddies events, baked our fair share of cookies, and drank more than enough chocolate milk at our favorite coffee shop, Saxby’s. Sleepovers, High School Musical sing-alongs, and chicken finger dates brightened my college experience.  Kate and the greater Best Buddies population restored my faith in people.

My original understanding of volunteerism was all wrong, I came to realize. I had initially thought that we volunteer to give of ourselves, but I was always on the receiving end of the service with Best Buddies. I came away from every encounter a better, more genuine and whole person. To this day, Kate shares with me an incomparable vitality. She lives with purpose, embraces everyone she encounters, and is never without a smile.

Although I graduated from school two years ago and have since moved away from Washington,  Kate and I talk on the phone weekly and write letters to one another. She is extraordinary at keeping in touch. Another testament to how deeply she cares about the people she loves. How abundant her capacity is to make people feel significant and valued.  While schedules prevent us from getting together as frequently as I would like (Kate’s social calendar is and always has been extensive), we are still able to have sleepovers every few months, thankfully. Homemade pizza, Scrabble, pajamas, and movies always make for the perfect girls’ night.

I couldn’t have imagined the world Kate would open for me when I was just a freshman looking to belong.  She gives me a fresh perspective, honest advice, and the very best hugs.  Kate reminds me to take life as it comes and simply do my best. There are never pretenses or motives. Kate is free from these unsavory habits that litter a great part of our society. Some may say that Kate has a disability. To me, she has nothing short of every ability that is truly worthwhile. 

Our Daily Bread

I shared a meal with two dear friends from college this past Sunday. It was the perfect suburban getaway for gals living and working in the Big Apple. We gathered wood from my parents' backyard so we would be able to build a fire later that day. Next stop was Fairway Market for ingredients: a big baguette, three types of cheese (New Zealand Cheddar, Pepper Jack, and Fresh Mozzarella), fresh basil, some cream, chicken, and vegetables for a tossed salad. It took us realistically three to five minutes just to navigate the big basins that comprise the olive section. Angela picked sun dried tomatoes, I grabbed an olive medley, and Mary tracked down half sour pickles to accompany the bread and cheese. Groceries- check. We snuck in some munchkins and coffees for the ever so brief drive home.  I am of the belief that there is always time for a Dunkin run.

After settling in at home, we chopped and chatted. Munched on bread, olive oil, and too much cheese, if there can ever be too much cheese. Next came the main course, creamy pesto over fettuccine with chicken. We never really made a dent in the salad which is to be expected when there is bread and cheese to be had. Olives count as vegetable intake though, right?  All the while, we had refreshing conversation. Scratch that. Let's call it what it was - a frantic vent session. It was also refreshing though,  long overdue, and entirely necessary.

It had been quite a while since we were all together in one place, probably since graduating actually. Granted texting and email allow for people to stay quite connected these days, but still pale in comparison to interaction face-to-face. Actually hearing what it's like to LOL together. We covered a wide variety of topics. Put girls in a room together and this is bound to happen. Guys, parents, jobs, friends, body image, weddings, dreams, fears; you name it and we probably discussed it. The pressure we either self impose or feel from others to succeed, to have everything all at once. Our desperate attempts to prioritize goals all the while trying to remain grounded and calm. How we fall short of the staying calm part. Thus is early adulthood.

It is characteristic of our generation to expect a lot, and quickly. I think Charles wrote "Great Expectations" about us. Sounds about right. By 24, we feel like we should have it all mapped out. The next decade if not more carefully delineated in a step by step list. Who we'll marry and where we will be professionally and geographically. There are external factors at play, too.  Mothers with baby fever asking about grandchildren or at the very least checking in on the latest adventures in finding a mate. Friends walking down the aisle and siblings enrolling in grad school.

While all of our concerns vary slightly, there is a common need for reassurance. A quote or a consoling gesture is often enough to quell anxiety. I discovered I am not the only one who Googles "inspiring quotes" when I feel disconcerted or lost. The right quote can typically calm my nerves for like an hour, or at least distract me enough that I forget what provoked anxiety in the first place. Needless to say I am quite frequently in search of the perfect words of reassurance. Some daily bread for my soul. I have no problem finding and eating actual bread, obviously.

Robert Louis Stevenson was on to something here:

"The best things in life are nearest:  Breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of right just before you.  Then do not grasp at the stars, but do life's plain, common work as it comes, certain that daily duties and daily bread are the sweetest things in life." 

The girls and I discussed lighter topics once we got through the rough stuff. Football, country music, and the anatomy of the perfect S'more. We grabbed skewers, jumbo marshmallows, Reese's cups as well as Hershey bars, and roasted them as the sun went down. For a moment, we huddled around the fire, forgot about expectations and indulged in the here and now, the path of just right before us.