A Single Seed Point of Light

In my last blog post I wrote about the senselessness of my daughter-in-law's cancer and how annoyed I am by the thought that there may be a higher power, energy or entity that disperses things like cancer in undeterminable ways.  So, that was, um, a tantrum.   I'll share a quote from one of my favorite author's to get today's post started:

"You can safely assume you've created God in your own image when it turns out that God hates all the same people you do."   — Anne Lamott


My rant about how *effed* up the thought of an entity handing out random illnesses affirms for me, and all of you, that I am not always thinking with the most evolved part of my brain.  I guess I was thinking of a God or entity that could be a bit like me and spite, smite, and vex people with whom I am not pleased.  Pu-lease . . . . . .   I hate these lessons where for one reason or another I have shrunk the universe to a size that I think I can control or influence all parts of.  So, let's clear this all up.  I do not believe that god is an entity or a knowing energy.  I believe that god is how we describe our connections with each other and all living things - including stars and black holes!

Now, I'd like to take a moment or two to re-visit the whole idea I brought up about cancer and other maladies and how I thought they were NOT predestined or predetermined.  I may have to swallow my words (gulp) and toss out that possibility.  I am currently reading a novel where the main character is a Kabbalist teacher.  Early in the book, he is reminded of a childhood experience he had at a planetarium.  When he asks a question about the Big Bang, his astronomy teacher tells him of Einstein's single seed of light theory.  Loosely translated this means, if we could travel faster than the speed of light back to the big bang, all we would see would be a single seed of light.  Contained in that tiny seed of light is every single thing in the universe - all the stars and planets and galaxies and everything in and on those stars, planets and galaxies.  His teacher tells him that he is held, as we are all, in that single seed of light.  And, his teacher says, so is the question he just asked about the big bang.  At that moment the protagonist feels as if the stars and planets come through the telescope he is looking through and kisses him on the lips.  It changes his relationship with god, with science, and with himself forever.

After reading that, I could not help but think of my immature rant about someone or something being in charge of handing out people's diseases and destinies.  Of course there is no "one" doing that.  But, it is not hard for me to accept that all these things were in the universe from the beginning, billions and billions of years ago.  Was there a file with someone's name on it that said "Inflammatory Breast Cancer, Age 30" or "Down Syndrome, Moment of Conception"??  Nope.  Not THAT black and white.  But what has been and is still out there are possibilities.  While a specific cancer cell may not have been with us from the moment of the big bang, all the necessary conditions for elements to gather, connect, bond and evolve into that cancer cell have been here.  And the whole Down Syndrome thing, how many times in the past million years do you think intracellular matter has not connected just right, mutating the cells and hence the entity it was growing?

Some of you may have guessed by now, I am not a scientist of any sort.  I think that what separates formal scientists from those of us who philosophize and dream is that a scientist (that is a "hard" scientist) will take their philosophies into a lab and try to physically re-create, document, and explain the thought or process.  Good for them.  Good for them for not getting discouraged at all the hard work those processes are and what they need to learn before they begin their experiments.  Just think of all that scientists need to learn before they can begin testing their own ideas - biology, chemistry, physics, math - all of the hard science languages.  By learning to work and communicate in scientific language they can tell the rest of us what they are doing.   Well, at least the rest of the scientific community who will break it down for us.

So, I now take back my statement about predestined conditions.  They have been here since before that seed point of light began expanding.  It just really sucks when the randomness of the cosmos lands on those you love.  Going back to the protagonist in the novel I am reading, supposedly his question about the cosmos existed in that seed light of the beginning of the universe.  His teacher did not say that it was known that the question would be asked by this particular student.  Perhaps, like the character in the novel who was at the right place at the right time with the right person, also the rest of us including cancer bearers, may be in places, with people, cells, and atoms whose effect we can not predict on our lives.

I wish I had more time to keep writing - all of this has stirred my curiosities about many things - especially about the question the young boy asked.  If that question was part of the small seed point of light, then are not all our questions, all our thoughts, part of that seed?  How then, do the questions and thoughts hook up with the people who eventually ask and answer?  Deep, very deep.

New Year - Same Old, Same Old

I am all for new starts, do overs, and mulligans.  I think that each day holds the possibility of things that were not available to us the day before.  I also am aware that each day comes with shit it drug with it from the last day, and the day before that, and the day before that.  Some of the shit we are responsible for and should take straight out to the curb - we don't have to bring our bad habits, our addictions, our bad thoughts, bad relationships - you know what I'm talking about,  any further into the future than this moment.  Unfortunately, there are some things that follow us from one day to the next no matter how hard we wish they would not follow us.

Having a family member who was diagnosed with cancer in 2010, at such an early age, makes me think about all the things that I could do something about and chose not to - exercise, healthier eating, better sleep hygiene - all the things that with a little discipline could be remedied.  The fact that this family member was one of the most health conscious people I know, and she STILL got cancer has made me wonder, why bother?

If we were to compare risk factors just a few months ago, I so should have been the one who got the cancer.  I don't think I'm affected with any guilt about not getting it instead of her, but I am struck with the randomness of the life.  For years I've eaten a less than stellar diet, carried way too many extra pounds on my frame, and have gone for weeks at a time with an inadequate amount of sleep.  I consider myself a smart person, I've read all the info about how life style influences health.  Somehow, I've put leading a healthier life style into my future plans - all my life.

Like I said, it's not the wondering why she got cancer, why I didn't get cancer, why anyone does or doesn't get cancer, it's the randomness of it all.  What does it all mean?  I let myself wander to places I probably should not - was this predestined?  is my life predestined?  I don't for a second think anyone deserves anything in life - I threw that out 31 years ago when my daughter was born with Down Syndrome.  And if anyone does think that there is some god or entity that is handing out cancer and developmental disabilities according to some (undeterminable by humans) plan - how fucked up is that?  Who or what would ever do something like that?  No one that I would ever want to pray to, worship or live with for all eternity, that's fo sho!

So, then, what do we do with this life that sometimes resembles a big old pile of shit?  I guess it's all about, well, love.  Which can loosely be translated into just showing up.  And staying present in the pain and, hopefully sometime soon, joy, no matter how hard it is to be there, or how insignificant you feel in the big scope of things when you are there.  Being present, tending babies, cooking and picking up the place a bit - all those things are making me feel a bit better.  I hope that by doing these things I'm also reassuring everyone that I plan to always stay present.  I have sometimes imagined a life where I floated and flitted about, feeding the hungry in third world countries, making a pilgrimage to some wise guru in the far east, a little hiking in high mountain ranges, an occasional quick trip to Vegas baby,  and of course, being home for birthdays and Christmas, then off on the next adventure.  I hope though, that everyone knows that my imagined life will never interfere with the real life I am living close to you.  Perhaps I need to tell you that.

I'm not sure if this has anything to do with a New Year theme, what do you think?  I think I'll go and ponder why the hell we even keep track of the years, of time, of . . . . . whatever.

Will They Like Me????

I just sent this blog address to the UUFA office for publication in the January newsletter.  I have been hesitant to send this information out, feeling that I may not be able to keep up with regular posting to this blog.  I guess now I am committed.  I feel like an adolescent wearing the latest fashion for the first time - I hope everyone likes it, I hope I don't look foolish, I hope . . . . . I hope . . . . . Here are my thoughts/reflections for today:

Post Christmas

What's all the fuss about, really?  I had a great evening on December 24 with my son and his family. (I can't imagine my January gathering with my daughter's family will be less special because it's not on a holiday.)  But really, it was like so many other great evenings I've spent with them. The gifts were out of the ordinary gatherings, and they were fun, but the most satisfaction was cooperative meal preparation early in the day, attending the service at the UUFA together (it's always nice to have family show up at your work place), and then eating the delicious meal we'd prepared.  It was fun to see the girls open their presents, but as usual, the real joy was in the hugs and conversations that took places during all of this.  I am not try to be a scrooge, I love gifting those I love with  presents as much as anyone.  And it is fun to see what they've gotten for me.  But, really, it's the being together I cherish.  I am almost tempted to do something like one small gift a month so there is not so much at Christmas time.  What do you think?

So, after the excitement of gift opening on Christmas Eve, we put the girls to bed and then had a fun time playing Scrabble (on a very old Scrabble board).  It was a high scoring game with Ian getting an eight letter word that covered two double word squares!  Heather got an extra 50 points when for the first play of the game when she used all seven of her letter tiles.  Molly and I struggled to keep up, but our mid-100's was no wimpy score!

Christmas Day found Molly and I at my house in Ames.  Santa found Molly at my address and left the blender she'd requested.  Made for yummy milkshakes later in the day.   We were going to go to the movies, but found that our choices for movies went away in the weekly shuffle.  Instead, we stayed home and watched old favorites that I had and a Cinemax presentation on my fairly new satellite TV service.

I realize how ordinary, possibly boring, my account of my holiday is.  Yet, in my busy life, it was just what I needed.  It was an exotic and health promoting gift.  No travel on iffy roads, no cleaning or food prep, no trying to be alert and interesting in my interactions.  And spending all day with Molly - priceless!  What a gift the day was.  I hope you got just what you needed as well.

It's Okay

I just finished watching National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.  In years past, this has been something I did with my husband and children, then after we divorced, just with my children.  Then when they married with my children and their spouses. And when they were too busy, with my daughter Molly who is not married.  No, finally this year, just by myself.  I doubt if we'll all be together and have enough time to watch it without grandchildren or someone else needing something - that is, this year.  Oh well.  This new way of watching it is much quieter.  No more outbursts of laughter by many people, no more missing lines because someone was talking over the movie, just me quietly listening.  And smiling.  And a few quiet out loud laughs.  And a lot of warm memories.  Lots of warm, happy memories.

This is not sad.  No, not at all.  It is a great reminder.  Life was good.  Life still is good.  Life is different.  Life goes on.  I love my life and all those whom I have shared it with in profound ways.  May it long continue.

What we do is God

Today I heard a Regina Spektor song.  The second stanza literally felt like a kick in the gut.  I cried for about 45 minutes.  I'm telling you, this whole cancer thing rears it's ugly, ugly head in the most unsuspecting and unusual times.  In an early post I think I wrote about not believing in God, and I don't believe in the "God the Father" that was my first introduction to a concept of god.  I truly think that if there is a God, then God is what we do.  God is the action in our life that connects or disconnects us to others, to nature and to our truest self.   When we laugh, that is God, when we cry, then too, God is revealed.  In our tears and in the comfort that is offered us.  I am quite sure that one day I will say that cancer is God.  Today I can not imagine how that might be possible.  




By Regina Spektor - 


No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one’s laughing at God
When they’re starving or freezing or so very poor

No one laughs at God
When the doctor calls after some routine tests
No one’s laughing at God
When it’s gotten real late
And their kid’s not back from the party yet

No one laughs at God
When their airplane start to uncontrollably shake
No one’s laughing at God
When they see the one they love, hand in hand with someone else
And they hope that they’re mistaken

No one laughs at God
When the cops knock on their door
And they say we got some bad news, sir
No one’s laughing at God
When there’s a famine or fire or flood

*Chorus*
But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they’re ‘bout to choke
God can be funny,
When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious
Ha ha
Ha ha

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one’s laughing at God
When they’ve lost all they’ve got
And they don’t know what for

No one laughs at God on the day they realize
That the last sight they’ll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes
No one’s laughing at God when they’re saying their goodbyes
But God can be funny
At a cocktail party when listening to a good God-themed joke, or
Or when the crazies say He hates us
And they get so red in the head you think they’re ‘bout to choke
God can be funny,
When told he’ll give you money if you just pray the right way
And when presented like a genie who does magic like Houdini
Or grants wishes like Jiminy Cricket and Santa Claus
God can be so hilarious

No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughs at God in a hospital
No one laughs at God in a war
No one laughing at God in hospital
No one’s laughing at God in a war
No one’s laughing at God when they’re starving or freezing or so very
poor

No one’s laughing at God
No one’s laughing at God
No one’s laughing at God
We’re all laughing with God

Caring About Christmas . . . or Not

Thinking back on some of the holiday parties and celebrations I concocted and hosted, it's hard to believe that I can't get motivated to get dressed (no I am not yet dressed at 4:30 pm on a Saturday) to go to the grocery store to get ingredients to make Christmas cookies.  My son and his family are coming over tomorrow afternoon to make cookies and with grandma.  I know I'll get it done, and I know I'll be happy to be doing this with my two darling granddaughters and their parents.  But then what?

I wonder if my lack of enthusiasm has anything to do with being single?  When I was married, I was sort of the torch holder for anything emotional - holiday celebrations, birthdays, milestones.  I think I may be from the last generation of women who agreed to do all the emotional shit in the relationships.  Maybe that's why I can't get too excited about Christmas, per sey.  I am ALWAYS excited to have my children and grandchildren around, I just don't like when there is a reason for gathering other than the sake of gathering.

I find it amusing that my son and his wife celebrate Christmas.  You will never meet two more affirmed atheists, yet they are going over board with holiday preparations.  It would be just plain cruel to children to ignore Christmas in our culture.  My three year old granddaughter is expecting a visit from Santa, mostly because of interactions with other children, story time at the library, and various media forms that she's exposed to.  How do you tell a three year old that we don't celebrate Christmas when all your friends and neighbors are?

So, I too, would have to claim to be an atheist.  I do believe is some energy that connects us all, that we are all a part of, but I do not believe in some entity that is called God or a God who created the universe. I think that God is really the noun and sometimes adjective for what humans, as their best selves, do.  I am a spiritual person - I think that we are more than flesh and bones and understandable thoughts.  I embrace and seek experiences that make me feel a part of something larger than myself.  I cry when sad and unfair things happen (like my daughter-in-law's inflammatory breast cancer), I dance when I feel so filled with motion and energy that I might burst, I sing when I want to be connected to my truest self without having to think about how to make that connection.  Yes, I believe there is a spiritual quality to humans, even all living things.  Some spirits are more evolved than others, understanding that the highest endeavor is to treat others as you would like to be treated.

So, my rambling reminds me of some Thomas Merton writings.  When I said that the highest endeavor is to treat others as you would like to be treated, I guess we first need to know how we want to be treated.  Growing up, I thought I wanted a lot of things.  I wanted to live in a big modern house with all the latest furnishings and decorating.  This was probably because the first house I remember living in was a 800 square foot farm house that I shared with my mom, dad, brother and sister.  It did not have indoor plumbing and was heated by an oil stove that smelled all the time.  We did have electricity, and so televisions, so I wanted to live in the Ward and June Cleaver house or Donna Reed's place.  I also wanted cute children who were dressed in HealthTex children's clothing.  I got those things, just didn't realize so much crap came with it, for me anyway.  But I digress from my Thomas Merton thoughts.

Merton was pretty radical for being a Catholic priest.  He understood, and shared, that by being a Catholic priest he was able to be supported in his contemplation and writing.  The Catholic church, give them credit, did not throw him out when he was writing subversive things about religion.  What I was referring to in the previous paragraph is his idea about original sin.  He says that maybe we are not born with original sins, it is not an affliction that is cast upon us by the God that so many believe in.  Instead, he ponders whether we can think of original sin being our response to the way we were parented and the interactions we had in our very early life.  We were not born with the potential to be bad, we were born with the desire to survive.  Survival required differing types of actions depending on what our experiences were.  Kind of makes me wish I had been having these kinds of thoughts and introspection as a young parent.  When children "defy" their parents, perhaps all they are looking for is a way to be the same as that parent.  This could be quite a tome, so I'll leave this for readers to consider further.

How the Thomas Merton idea that we create our own "original sin" relates to Christmas (for me anyway) is that Christmas is an experience that many of us in this culture experienced.  Even though there were holiday pageants, carols and Santa, I always knew that what Christmas was really about was whether or not my dad was going to get my mom the right present, or any at all, whether it was our turn to go to the maternal or paternal family, how much was in the Christmas Club account, where we would stay, etc., etc.  Jesus, who I think was a radical who brought great ideas to light, had very little to do with our real Christmas.

So, now, here I am.  Twice divorced and trying to get motivated to celebrate Christmas.  Ho, ho, ho.  I'm heading to the grocery store.  First I have to look up a recipe since I can't even remember who I loaned my damn cookbook to.

Happy Holidays!

Small Town Benefits

Tonight I was out walking.  Even with streetlights, there is minimal light pollution here in Ames.  This makes for great stargazing, especially at this time of year.  I was not planning to star gaze, but the air was crisp and clear, and the stars so bright that I could not help but notice the constellations.  I paused in the alley behind my house, as far from the street light as possible.  They were all there - the Big Dipper, Polaris, a couple planets and millions more.

I like to think about the fact that I am made of the same material as the stars.  That thought makes me so much more a part of not only the universe of constellations, stars, planets, meteorites and all things outer spacey, but also a part of the universe of humanity as well.  It's hard to dislike others when I think that we are so similar - we're all star material.  This reminds me of my favorite Neil deGrasse Tyson quotes.  If you don't know who this person is - google him - everyone should know him.

"Recognize that the very molecules that make up your body, the atoms that construct the molecules, are traceable to the crucibles that were once the centers of high mass stars that exploded their chemically rich guts into the galaxy, enriching pristine gas clouds with the chemistry of life. So that we are all connected to each other biologically, to the earth chemically and to the rest of the universe atomically. That’s kinda cool! That makes me smile and I actually feel quite large at the end of that. It’s not that we are better than the universe, we are part of the universe. We are in the universe and the universe is in us." 
— Neil deGrasse Tyson

"The most I learn about the universe, the less convinced I am that there's any sort of benevolent force that has anything to do with it, at all." 
— Neil deGrasse Tyson

"I want to put on the table, not why 85% of the members of the National Academy of Sciences reject God, I want to know why 15% of the National Academy don’t." 
— Neil deGrasse Tyson

So, me again.  All the feelings of grandeur looking at the stars, all the feelings of something bigger and more connected than myself, I agree with Mr. deGrasse Tyson.  These feelings do not have to come from something outside of us that we can not define or understand, they do not have to come from "God"  No, god is not the name for the universe.  We are the universe - creating, changing, evolving.  Our feelings of love, connection, hope, joy, fear - all chemical reactions of our star elements.  The reason we all feel them is that we are all made from these same elements.  We are the universe, how we treat each other, that is the god that we created, something outside of who we are.

Effing Inflammatory Breast Cancer

A little over a month ago, my daughter-in-law was diagnosed with inflammatory breast cancer - four days before her 30th birthday.  She is married to my son, she is the mother of my three year old and one year old granddaughters.  Blahhhhh!!!!!!  How did this happen? Whenever I think I'm over being pissed off, mystified and all those other things - it comes back, the question - any question.  Why?  Why didn't the damn surgeon do a biopsy when the symptoms were not going away with antibiotics?  Why did this have to happen to her?  Why does this have to happen to my son?  Why does this have to happen to the girls?  I love being grandma to the family, it was just that I had in mind keeping the girls so their parents could have romantic weekends, little trips to obscure places, and just a chance to relate without the demands of toddlers.  I do keep the girls quite a bit anyway - only now it's so she can take naps, or be sick, or so my son can go and pick up any number of prescriptions that they need, or make dinner or clean house, or just get away for a bit without any demands.  The thing I can not do is give my daughter-in-law a break.  I can not take the cancer away for a few hours, I can not clear her mind of the thoughts that must be playing in a loop, I can not totally relieve the stress that all four of them are feeling, but I can help.

So, nothing witty about this post.  Just advice to all young people.  If you have something weird going on with your breast, try antibiotics.  If it clears up, fine.  If not, DEMAND a biopsy.  Do not be nice about this, do not feel foolish about this.  The most common misdiagnosed group is pregnant and nursing mothers who are not taken seriously about something being amiss.  Do not let your doctor mislead you for over a year like my daughter-in-law was.  Google IBC on the web, then be very vigilant.

Next post - happy and funny - I hope.

Another Christmas Story

Each year for work, I come up with a "holiday remembrance" for one of our Christmas/Holiday Services.  I am a Unitarian Universalist, so the services often include more than Christmas.  Having grown up in a Lutheran community in eastern South Dakota, I have only stories of Christmas.  I didn't even know that there were other people with other religions when I was a child.  It was just us, the Christians, and them, the Heathens.  Since then, I've met and befriended many Heathens.  They are as fine people as the Christians.

Stories of the Season - December 2010

In the late 1960s my family was living in a three bedroom, one and one-half bathroom, ranch style house on Holbrook Avenue in Sioux Falls, South Dakota.  We had moved from our farm to the newest subdivision in this small city.  Holbrook Avenue was the last street in the city limits.  Our neighbors across the street had back yards that abutted a pasture of a neighboring farm.  This close proximity to the horses and cattle that were often grazing at the fences was a constant reminder to my older sister of how much she missed the farm and the animals that we had moved away from.

My sister was older when we moved, more of an outcast in her high school classes than my brother and I who had fewer difficulties fitting in to elementary classes.  My sister's memories of the bucolic days in the country with friendly neighbors and farm animals with Disney-like personalities did not help her move forward and integrate into the life we now had.

As the first Christmas in Sioux Falls approached, my brother and I took advantage of our time free from daily farm chores to make the house festive.  We found a roll of twelve inch wide white butcher paper and claimed it for our own.  We began by cutting out snowflakes to hang in the windows, but found that with a little paint, some crayons, and plenty of masking tape, we could turn 10 foot lengths of that paper into scrolls of paper that could be hung in the hallway, the living room, the dining room, our bedrooms - anywhere we could attach the paper with tape, we had a holiday banner.  There were scenes of Santa and his reindeers, there was the nativity.  Bold letters proclaimed "Feliz Navidad" and "Mele Kalikimaka" - phrases we'd learned in the new songs we were singing in music classes.  Of course the largest banner offered "God Jul" as a tribute to the hundreds of times we heard it growing up at the Center Lutheran Church.

As this project stretched from a Saturday afternoon, to a couple days, to weeks, my brother and I offered my sister an opportunity to join in this festive artistic endeavor.  She declined.  In fact, she offered her assessment of our activity and the quality of our work.  It was not kind.  Her harsh words did not phase my brother and I.  In fact, they probably made us increase the quantity of banners and the scope of holiday icons.  Illustrations of "The Twelve Days of Christmas," "Angels We Have Heard on High," "Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer" and "O Little Town of Bethlehem" were churned from the non-ending roll of white paper.  My favorite mini-mural was my brother's depiction of Tex Ritter's song about a soldier who carries a deck of cards with him instead of a bible to a Christmas Eve service on his military base.  The chaplain chastises the soldier for bringing the cards - that is - until the soldier explains that each card in the deck correlates to some part of the nativity story.  I think the song is called "The Deck of Cards."  I used to get teary eyed every time I'd hear it.  But I digress.

Besides labeling our activity "lame," my sister offered that she could not join in the art project because she was too busy making her Christmas list.  Now my brother and I were no slackers when it came to lists.  Ours had been done prior to the production of the butcher paper banners.  Our lists were pretty typical for ten and twelve year olds:  a transistor radio with head phones; a 45 of "Winchester Cathedral" by The New Vaudville Band; BBs for my brother's BB gun, leg warmers for me; and of course games.  My brother requested "Strat-O-Matic Baseball", me, I wanted "Hey Pa, There's a Goat on the Roof" or "The Game of Life."  Our lists were long and specific.  They also included some "no" gifts we wanted Santa to know about:  no socks, no pajamas, no savings bonds, things like that.

My sister's list only had one item on it - a horse.  What was consuming her time was the list she was compiling that contained all the reasons she needed a horse.  Some of the reasons she listed were:  1.  I'll die if I don't get a horse; 2.  I'm so miserable living in Sioux Falls, a horse will make me happy; 3.  I won't be sick as often and miss so much school if I have a horse; 4.  The time I spend with my horse will lift the dark depression I've fallen into; 5.  I deserve a horse;  6.  I'll never ask for another dime of allowance if I get a horse; and the coupe de grace was 7.  I will not accept or open any Christmas gifts that are not a horse.  She always did have (still does) a flair for the dramatic.  My brother and I withheld judgment about her list.  We were pretty certain she was not getting a horse since we now lived in town and had no place to keep a horse.  We also thought she was displaying pretty wicked manners and was likely to actually NOT get any presents because of her greedy demands.  We did give her credit thought, her list was a gutsy move any way you tried to frame it.

As Christmas drew nearer, the suspense grew.  By now, the whole extended family knew about my sister's list.  My Grandpa kept saying that he'd take any presents she was unwilling to accept.  My brother and I were mortified that she was holding out.  She did not ask for one single thing other than the horse.  We should have suspected something was up since my parents did not seem to be engaging in their usual parental admonishments over such ungrateful behavior.  I was certain that I'd hear some speech about gratitude and appreciation for the roof over our head, food, on our table, so on and so forth.  But nothing.  Just silence from my parents.  It was hard to read, and made me really nervous about Christmas morning.

Finally the day arrived.  There were packages under the tree for all of us when we awoke on Christmas morning.  Santa had left an equal amount of packages for all of us.  My brother and I knew what this meant - no horse for our sister.  When she saw the gifts she burst into tears and ran back to our shared bedroom.  My mom did go and retrieve her with some stern words about shaping up and not being so dramatic.  My brother and I began opening our presents, but with less enthusiasm that previous years.  Our sister was really, really creeping us out!  Who knew she'd take this so far.  We both offered weak "oh wows" when we saw our green plastic Signature transistor radios.  We wondered, did my sister get one too?  Would she please just open a present and relieve some tension?  The next package I opened contained headphones and 5 nine volt batteries for the radio.  "Yeah, thanks" I said quietly.  (When was my sister going to give up the hijinks and open a gift?  Please!)   My next gift was a blue vinyl suitcase for my Midge doll.  What?  That wasn't even on the list!  More weak thanks.  Socks, pajamas and a book of lifesaver candies completed the my array of presents.  My brother did get some BBs, but also socks and, gulp, underwear.  My grandparents were with us that year.  Their gift of a $10 bill wrapped in a box with some divinity candy was the best so far.  Well, after the radio.

My sister, she sat as far away from the family and the Christmas tree as she could and still technically be in the room.  She had her gifts piled around her, but was not opening them.  When we'd all finished and she hadn't started my mom tried to guilt her into opening hers.  Admonishments about her bad manners and ungrateful attitude filled the room like slow ticks of the clock.  "I'm beginning to regret buying you any gifts," my mom would say.  "Do you want us to take them back, give them so a deserving grateful child?" my dad asked.  "Are you going to ruin Christmas for all of us?" mom chided?  "Maybe we should give these to your brother and sister," dad suggested.  (I liked that idea)  Finally, without saying a word, my grandpa got up and walked over to her pile of presents.  He appeared to be considering them equally and finally took one back to the couch with him.  "I guess I'll just take this one."  "Jennings, stop that.  You're not helping," my grandma said.  But he would not be stopped.  He was tearing away the paper.  This was an unprecedented move, even in my family's wacky Christmases.  Was no one going to stop him?  The unfolding drama was a much fun as opening my own gifts had been.  He got all the paper off, it was a shoe box.  Hmm, not so great after all, I thought.  But when he opened the lid, there were not shoes in the box, there was a bridle.  He pulled it out and held it up and said, "Hmm, I can use this."  No one said a word.  We were like a bunch of kids in detention, hoping my grandfather's actions would invoke some kind of a reaction from someone!  A few moments passed, no comments.  Grandpa went and got another package.  In it was a saddle blanket, curry comb, saddle soap and a note saying that there was a saddle in the garage.  My grandfather was ohhing and ahhing about how he could use these back on his farm for his horses.  These gifts got my sister's attention.   My brother's and my attention too.  We were younger, but we were both pretty good at math.

Time started moving at that strange speed that they use in movies to get from a one scene to a time much later on.  Wrapping paper from the next two gifts seemed to fly from my sister's hands.  A halter and lead rope, and the grand prize.  A box that held a polaroid picture of a horse and a note with directions to the farm where the new POA, Flicka, could be located - a mere 6 miles from our house.    While time flew around us, my brother and I sat motionless.  My sister flew into her clothes, my mom and dad and grandpa were getting their coats on.  My sister was screaming variations of "thank you" and "I love you" to anyone and everyone.  As they walked out the door, my mom said to my brother, "help Grandma."  Then they were gone.  Christmas had come and gone in some sort of strange dream time.  Really, a horse?  That's what I kept asking myself.  I was also kicking myself for not asking for a, well, something, anything big and expensive.  I had limited my self to a transistor radio!!!!

My brother and I could not talk to each other.  He picked up his gifts, put them back in their boxes and placed them back under the tree before he went to help grandma with cooking dinner.  I took my stuff and took it to my room.  I sort of dumped it on my bed before I went out to the kitchen.  There I found grandma saying to my brother, "I don't know what to say about all this."  My brother, peacemaker that he always was said, "Maybe our big Christmas's are coming."  The rest of the day was very strange.  The adults seemed a bit embarrassed by the disparity in the gifts.  Mom and dad even announced that they had not gotten each other anything because the horse was, and would continue to be, so expensive.  Who were they trying to make feel better?  No me.  My brother and I were very quiet.  No, we didn't want to go out later and see the horse.  No, we did not want to ride her when she was broken.  No, we did not want to give her carrots or sugar cubes.  We really didn't want anything to do with that horse.  Spontaneously during the day, grandpa would let out a sigh and whisper, "My, my, my, my.  A horse."   A quiet, "shhh," was grandma's automatic response, even if they were in different rooms.

A lot changed about our family's Christmases after Flicka came into our lives.  Never again did any of us children attempt such a coup.  My sister would not have dared.  My brother and I did not dare.  Or maybe we were all just maturing and realizing that Christmas should be about more than the value of gifts.   There were unexpected lessons that year for all of us.  At first I felt that my sister had really pulled the wool over my parent's eyes, making them feel that she would be sad and depressed unless she had a horse.  But then I began thinking, she really was struggling with adjusting from our country school to a high school with over 500 students in it.  Maybe time in the country with Flicka would bring some peace and respite into her life.  And my brother showed me what real giving was.  When he heard my mom and dad telling my sister that she'd have to put all her babysitting money and most of her allowance toward feed, vet bills, and stable rent for the horse, he offered her $50 to use toward those expenses that he'd been saving for a hunting rifle.  My sister, I think she learned the best lesson of all.  She really had an opportunity to fully understand the old adage, "Be careful what you wish for, you just might get it."

So, here is wishing us all a holiday where some but not all of our wishes come true.  Happy Holidays.