The Merry Side of Christmas

"Merry Christmas!" 

The cry rings in the balmy air of Oklahoma on this sunny day. Or, if you belong to this generation, you open the Facebook and you are assaulted with the smiley faces and caps lock accompanied with this joyous phrase. 

What does this statement mean? It may be very bluntly translated as: "You. Be happy. It is Christmas."

Be happy... It is no wonder that people through the ages, following on the heels of like tragedy as myself, see this holiday approaching and feel the deep urge to turn tail and run in the opposite direction. These past few days I have spent calculating just how difficult it would be for me to dig a hole to curl up in until these days are over. Now I am here, the day is done, and it seems that my worst fears are far from realized. The day was not dreadful; it was anything but dark. The sun was shining, laughter rang in the air, and joy - unexpected joy - flowed from the heart. 

I've realized that the darkest days are those you spend anticipating the light. Those days you spend anticipating the joy, feeling the loss of the one who will not be there, are the hardest days. When the joyful day arrives, somehow the loss is not so sharp. It is clouded over by a joy that comes from deep within those around you. Perhaps the joy comes from the sorrow and loss. I do not think my joy would be so sweet now if I had not lost someone so precious. When you lose someone you love, you realize just how sweet the presence and joy of those you love are. The pain of the one you lost is sharpest before you are surrounded by those you love, in anticipation of that joy. Somehow it will not be the same as before. The clown with his loud laugh and stomping feet will not be there to cause a riot. His loud comments, rambunctious attitude, and fun-loving ways are gone forever. Yet, somehow, someone fills in the laughter, someone makes the snide remarks, and someone stomps around. They do not take the place of the one who is gone, but they remind you that such things are not lost forever simply because he is gone. 

There is joy tempered by sorrow. There is light contrasting with the darkness. There is laughter after the tears. There is peace in the midst of the storm.  

 

"It Looks Good"

One of the things I remember the most clearly was his opinions. These probably because he voiced them so loudly. His opinions of clothes and complements I shall never forget. Many a Sunday morning I would walk up and say, "I like how you put this shirt with this sweater." (He always wore jeans, so I never felt the need to comment on his pants.) He would then embark on a long explanation of why the sleeves of the shirt must be folded over just so, and how the collar must look, etc. He had a pair of ancient cowboy boots he had found at the thrift store. No big spender on clothes himself, his accessory wardrobe consisted of many of these types of finds. His shirts and jeans mom would always supply, but his coats and his cowboy boots were thriftshop discoveries.
One morning I approached him after the service. I liked the shirt he had on - it was a dark gray with silver pin stripes. Stepping up to him I said, "That shirt is beautiful."
I have since learned that calling anything owned by this guy "beautiful" is a social mistake of the highest order.
"Beautiful is feminine; you don't call me beautiful!" He argued, the humor still thick in his voice. After arguing unsuccessfully about the word usage and origin I finally asked,
"Then how do I complement your outfit?"
"You call it good. Or you don't say anything at all," was his reply.
"I can do that. Can I call it cool?"
"Yes, you can do that. Frankly, I don't like people complementing my clothes, but if you're gonna do it, say it's good."
When I look at his clothes, when I hear what he says, when I remember what he has done, when I see the love he poured into all of those around him, it is good. It is so good.

Sketch of a Beautiful Person

He smiled only when he really meant it. That smile, slightly crooked, slightly silly, would creep up into his eyes and fill his entire being. If he didn't think it worth the smile, he wouldn't smile, he would make a face. How many faces he had! But his smile was the best, because it reached his very soul. Those big brown eyes would crinkle up at the corners as his whole face crumpled into that joyous expression. He smiled best when he forgot he didn't have his "teeth" in. The gaps really didn't matter - they were a part of who he was at the time.
If he didn't think the situation really merited a smile, he would cock one eyebrow, tilt his head slightly back, and look at you with a half mocking, half humorous look on his face. He could be serious as well. He wiped his face clean of the humor and looked at you in such a way that you knew that, whatever you said, his response would follow some serious deliberation. There were tears too. He was not afraid to cry, though he didn't enjoy it. But if he hurt emotionally, he cried. The times I remember best were when he was young. He cried when a family in the church left to go elsewhere. His love for this family left him devastated at their departure. He knew he would see them again, but he wept still. He cried out of frustration when he disappointed his father. It was not out of selfish ambition, but because he knew that he had failed someone he trusted and loved.
A big man, he could be gentle as well as rambunctious. If he saw another crying or hurting, he gave them a hug. If they were in serious pain, he made sure they were taken care of with as little discomfort as possible. If they were a child, he would scoop them up, tickle them, play with them, and left them wanting him to come back and do it again.
He was not a very quiet individual. His jokes echoed around the room, followed by his loud laugh. He laughed so well, and the sound was so full. He coveted joy. His had a confident stride. He entered a room without hesitating. His stride was not necessarily fast, but it was long. He knew where he wanted to go, and he went. I can still hear the heals of his worn out cowboy boots clicking on the tile as he walked into the worship service on Sunday. I can still hear the noisy stride, the rush of air as he opened the door, and his voice loudly marking his entrance into our house. He would drop everything quite noisily and plop himself down in the slouching blue chair, or onto the worn-out couch. The cover never seemed to stay put whenever he sat on that couch.
There are so many memories I have of him. They are all jumbled together in a colorful, noisy mess. As I pick them apart and put them together again piece by piece, I see a face. And it is the face of a beautiful person.

More Tidbits

“Your compass seems to be a bit off,” Harriet pointed out as they stood gazing over the vast ocean of sand.
“A small technicality that is easily fixed,” Neptune said.
“Yes, but one that needs to be fixed very soon, or else we shall both die of thirst,” Harriet pointed out.
“Wait, there is no water here?” Neptune asked.
“Of course not! This is the desert.”
“I knew I was feeling a bit funny,” Neptune gasped, clutching his stomach. “Harriet, we must find water now or I shall die!”
“Don’t be so dramatic!” Harriet scolded. “You can’t possibly- “
But at that moment Neptune fell gasping to the ground.
“Oh my goodness, you really are dying!” Harriet cried, falling to the ground with him. “What do I do?”
“Harriet, this is very important,” Neptune croaked. “Listen carefully: I will need to take water from you in order to survive. If you want to leave this place and not die here with me that is the only way. I do not have enough strength to move us away from here otherwise.” He grasped her arm.
“Listen to me,” he hissed, “it will hurt you very much. I do not want to do this, but I cannot think of another way.”
“Do it,” Harriet said. “I’d rather be in pain than be dead.”
“You are sure?”
“Quite. Now do it!”
There was a horrible aching pain in her arm. It traveled up to her chest, then her legs, and finally her head. Harriet knew she was going to faint. Before she did she caught a glimpse of Neptune rising up and standing as if defying the sun and heat. Then everything was blurry and painful, and Harriet slipped into peaceful darkness.

The Plot Thickens...

 For Mosey; I thought you would enjoy the update.

Neptune ran across the yard and leaped over the fence.
"Come on!" He called excitedly to Harriet. She hesitated. Never before had Harriet stepped outside of the fence. Somehow she felt that doing so would break the greatest taboo of all: Under no circumstances was she allowed to cross that wooden barrier. To do so would incur the wrath of Grandmother Olga. Harriet laid a hand on the fence. A tingle ran through her hand and down her spine. Suddenly she did not care a fig whether or not Grandmother Olga threw a fit. Laughing aloud, Harriet hopped up onto the fence and scrambled down the other side.
"I've never been outside of the fence," she told Neptune.
"I didn't think you had," he muttered grimly. A long dirt road stretched North and South. An opened field lay to the West.
"I always wanted to run in that field," Harriet said wistfully.
"You may if you wish," Neptune said.
"I may? Really?"
Harriet cautiously crept across the road. The field stretched before her, flat, green, and enticing. She stepped delicately onto the grass, the cool softness tantalizing her feet.
"So," Neptune asked, leaning nonchalantly against the fence, "what do you think of the outside world?"
"It's - it's wonderful!" Harriet laughed, and she began to run across the smooth grass. Spinning, throwing her arms out wide, she drank in the joy of actually living. Neptune chuckled as he watched her trip over a mole hill.
"There are some days when I just love my job," he said to no one in particular.  "Harriet," he called, "it is time for us to move on."
"What?" She stopped, still giggling.
"We must go now."
"No, we can't," she said, suddenly very serious. "We must wait here for Grandmother to come home!"
"Idiot girl!" Neptune said, exasperated, "haven't you been listening to me at all? I just told you that she isn't coming home at all! She was taken by the enemy and we must go rescue her."
"Oh. Well, then, let's go." 
Harriet climbed over the fence.
"Where to next?" She asked.
"We must find the other guardians of the earth," Neptune said.
"Where do we start looking?"
"I'm not sure. We're looking for people who peel potatoes backwards, put their  books on shelves upside-down and backwards, leave their faucets dripping, and paint purple circles in their closets."
"What you paint in your closet is hardly common knowledge."
"True." Neptune chewed his lip. "I was given the general location of where to find each guardian."
"How many guardians are there?"
Neptune counted on his fingers: "Seven."
"Including Grandmother Olga?"
"No, she is not a guardian. She is the high-commanding officer of the entire operation."
"And that operation is...?"
"To keep the forces of darkness from overrunning the earth," Neptune said.
"Oh." Harriet stood staring at the road for a moment. “What will you do now that she is missing?” She looked up at him, fear creeping into her eyes. “What will I do?”
“Come with me, of course,” Neptune said.
“But I don’t know you at all. You could be one of those creatures of darkness that Grandmother was trying to protect me from. You could be lying!”
“That is a distinct possibility, but of course entirely untrue.”
“And how am I to know that?”
“That is a good question, but one not easily answered. Right now you will have to trust me.”
Harriet laughed disparagingly.
“Oh really? Just like that?”
“But of course. Isn’t that how most people trust each other?”
Harriet could not disagree.
“Very well,” she said resignedly. “I will trust you.”
“There’s a good girl. Now,” Neptune said, “which way is Egypt?”
“Egypt?!”
“Yes, that is what I said. We will find a guardian in Egypt.”
“That is more easily said than done,” Harriet said. “Egypt is a rather large country.”
“I know, but it is a start, and is better than nothing at all.”
“I have no choice but to agree. I believe it is east of here, but I really do not know.”
“That is no problem for me. I have a built-in compass in my mind that tells me where each country lies on this vast globe.”

And that is how Harriet and Neptune found themselves in the midst of the Sahara desert.