Holiday Kaleidoscope

Evening is coming on quickly, so the street is a blend of darkened houses, colored Christmas lights, and swirling snow.

My husband is out there shoveling and I am in here wrapping gifts and listening to Amahl and the Night Visitors.  Amahl's mother is about to try to steal the gifts the kings have brought for the unknown child.

My children are out there somewhere, finishing up their Christmas shopping. 

My father and his wife are curled up in their tiny woodland home, feeding the wood stove, watching the falling snow, and praying that they are keeping her cancer at bay.

The kings aren't mad anymore; they are telling Amahl's mother that she is welcome to the gold.

My grandmother is alone in her nursing home apartment; I hope she is thinking of lively Christmas dinners past.

My sons' French friends and families are in Lyon, Vitre, and China, getting ready for their own celebrations.

My students are ending a Jewish fast day and hoping against hope for a snow day tomorrow.  I have to admit that I'm with them this time.  The fast day gave me a much-needed afternoon off, but I could sure use another day. 

A miracle is taking place in Amahl's life.

My brother, his wife, and daughter are probably trying to drag a tree through the snowstorm and into the home into which they are still moving.

There is still so much to do:  turkeys to pick up, floors to polish, laundry to catch up on, college students to get to the dentist and oral surgeon, families to visit, cards to write.  I guess there won't be any outside lights this year but I think there will be post-Christmas cards. 

Maybe the snow will melt and we'll put up the lights for New Year's.