We Gather Together

Christmas is inherently busy,
but this year is especially so
since I'm working
which leaves me little time aside
for just being still.

The emotional stress with Dean
is just beneath the surface right now
for me--
if I just stay busy,
I'm good.

So I stay busy.
Last Monday,
my good friends gathered me up
and we had lunch at Panera Bread--
all that comfort food should be on
Obama's Healthcare Plan--
their brocoli cheese soup in a bread bowl
or
5 cheese macaroni dishes
are good for the soul.
As I look at it,
maybe it's just cheese. lol
Anyway,
the Beatle's got it right--
I get by with a little help from my friends.

At Church yesterday,
the topic of speakers was
"Christmas".
Have you ever gone to Church
and the speaker was so clear and brilliant
that you listened with both your ears
and your heart
and just soaked it up in all of your pores?
So true and poignant
that you'd sit for a second round
of the same talk?

That's how it was for me yesterday.
A good man in the ward,
whom I have had next to zero interactions with,
shared the best Christmas message that I've heard
in a long time.
Some of his words struck my heart
so deeply that they became part of my DNA.
"Christmas isn't just one day,
it's forever. For every one. For always."
"We're all needy. We all need one another."
I wish I could quote him verbatim,
but those warm fuzzies are what's left
simmering like warm cider,
with it's fragrance wafting all around.

My emotions regarding Dean
were churning and threatening to burst open
with no regard to where I was--
luckily,
it was time for Sunday School,
ya know?
I was in the clear!
But then--
then we got to Relief Society,
and I couldn't even make it all the way thru
"Silent Night"
because a sweet sister had to ask me how I'm doing.

How am I doing?
Like, in general or today? I thought.
In general, I'm functioning--
going to work
baking cookies,
making Christmas lists,
fretting about Dean.
or today,
I'm here, but as Shrek says, 
I'm a donkey on the edge!
I'm sucking back tears--
not just the tiny tears you quietly wipe away,
I'd already gone thru those kind of tears two hours before
in Sacrament meeting.
No, I'm sucking back a full throttle,
air-sucking-whole-body-throbbing-suckfest.

I answer,
"I'm good. You?"
Good. She answers.
then she adds,
"I haven't seen you around lately. Everything okay?"
"Oh we've been sick. Colds, strept, viruses. All of it." I say.
Which is true, but then I remembered last Sunday.
Last Sunday when I didn't sleep because
I didn't even know where Dean was.

See what happened there?
I don't know what possessed me,
but I told her where I was last Sunday--
physically and emotionally.
My "pollyanna" -tude was nowhere to be found,
and just as we're singing the first line of
"Silent Night",
instincts took over when
I felt a tidal wave
of emotion take over
excused myself and went out to the car
to let it loose.

Mascara mixed with snot is so un-Pollyanna-ish.

The clock ticked on,
church was out and I was home making
spaghetti for dinner
before I knew it
and said nothing about my own personal waterworld
to the kids,
but quietly told Mr. W,
who gave me a big hug.

I took a nap
and I felt better.
Naps do that for me.
I realized upon waking,
and feeling logical
that sometimes 
my burdens exceed my strength.


Last night was a special night.
It was our Stake's Christmas Program.
This Stake is a wonderfully creative and talented bunch of people,
and it's always a blessing to attend.
Even if I did have to threaten the Boofus to get his suit back on,
when he'd have rather not gone out again on a Sunday night.
It'll be good for us, I told him.
I knew it'd be good for me anyway.

When the handbell performers were playing,
Arianna whispered in my ear,
"Shut your eyes."
I listened and let the bells fill my head
with their soothing melody.
Ari's warm little noggin on my shoulder,
and bells in the air,
was just what I needed.
When I opened my eyes
I looked around the Chapel--
I saw a room filled with people who've had their own
share of trials that exceeded their strength:

There, just behind me sat a couple who, like me,
have a son that worries their heart--
not because of illness of the body,
but because of passions that blind him.
Yet, they're always at Church,
serving
loving
giving what they have.

Up front in the choir,
I see a young man whose fought a life-threatening disease,
and his family around him also singing Christmas carols.

I look across and there sits a widower who speaks about his wife
with a palpable tenderness that you just know
theirs is a remarkable love story.

And just a few rows back a widow,
whose raised her children by herself for a decade
and always has a gentle smile on her face.

Again up at the choir,
I see men who've fought in Afghanistan
and far reaches of the world,
so far away from this side of the Rocky Mountains--
and their wives and children gathered to their sides
this Christmas season
like stripes on a candy cane.

Row by row,
I looked around,
suddenly very aware that I'm in a chapel
full of
what?
Optimistists.
Believers.
Hopefuls.
Needy, Needy, People.
Just like me.

But on this night,
we're gathered together--
all of our cares
tucked and guarded inside our hearts;
we have a reverance for one another--
I've heard it called
"Namaste".
Because we know why we're here
in this Chapel
on a cold December night.
We've gathered together,
like warm coals that are stronger
when touching,
to build a flame,
to see if we can mend and heal ourselves
as we lift and serve one another.

"Where two or more are gathered together in my name, there I am in the midst of them."


That's why we come.
We bring our sorrows,
our burdens,
our trials,
and we sing--
oh how we sing!
Loudly and even off-key,
the vibration in our voices
shrug off our burdens
lifting them off one another
with the energy of song.
And it's sweet and lovliness
are only nearly-matched
by the treats being served in the cultural hall afterwards.
We gather together 
to ask the Lord's blessing...