And not aarrgghh in a piratey way, either. Aarrgghh as in Scrooge before his conversion. As in the Grinch before his heart grew three sizes. As in every stressed-out parent who's ever vowed to drag the Christmas tree out of the house and cancel the whole damn thing (see recent episode of
I know I'm not the only one who really tries hard to make it all come together seamlessly during the holidays, but instead constantly comes up short. In this aspect, I relate to the angel with the purple robe. Not because she's an angel, but because she's been dropped and broken and hot-glued back together many times. You can see the cracks in her wings, the broken bits at the bottom of her robe, the chunk missing from her right wing. Some days I feel mended and cheerful, as she is. Other days--yesterday!--I feel as if I've been dropped and broken again, and I'm waiting for the Big Hot Glue Gun From The Sky to come along and put me back together.
This is a little worrisome: all these cracks and breaks, they make a structure less sound and more prone to additional breakage, do they not? How does that translate into our human experience? I know that the repeated stress involved with, say, weight lifting actually makes a person stronger as long as it's not overdone. The secret is knowing when to say "Enough."
And that little angel? I try to remember that she was created with love and delight and goofy joy. I like to think of our own incarnations taking place in the same manner.
Maybe that goofy joy is what I'm trying to recover and pour into these last few days before Christmas.
Thanks for reading.