Light in the Darkness

FROM WHERE I SIT    Light in the Darkness  Dec. 17, 2012    Pat Spilseth

’Tis the season of darkness.  Gray skies, often filled with snowy clouds, dominate December days.  Nights are long, cold, chilling the body and soul. 

Dark clouds haunt my mind.  The tragedy of school children and staff needlessly slaughtered in New Town, CN, dominate the news.  Murderous deaths in Cold Spring and Little Falls, MN, fill the newspapers.  Slick roads, car accidents, deaths, head colds, and the flu are prevalent.  Winter seems to be filled with chilling darkness.

It’s December...only a few days before Christmas.  Early morning silence greets me as I awaken too early today, at 4AM.  The winter sky is still dark with no stars shining or moon glow to light my way down the stairs.    Donning my warm bathrobe and furry slippers, I slip down the steps quietly to turn on the Christmas tree lights and open the curtains.  Across Carmen’s Bay, I see Christmas lights from a house whose inhabitants I do not know, but each winter morning I look out my windows to see their holiday lights.  They brighten my spirits.  As I make my first cup of strong coffee, I decide to take advantage of this quiet time to sit in my red leather chair, look out at the frozen lake, and meditate for a short while on my life’s blessings.

It’s too early for Buddy, my Beagle pal who sleeps later these days.  He’s almost nine; that’s about 63 in human years.  He likes to sleep until seven.  Dave rises a bit later.  I relish the silence of this early morning with only the tree lights shining in the darkness.

There’s something about light at Christmastime—strings of Christmas lights, firelight, candlelight, starlight.  I read that long ago in northern Europe, people burned Yule logs for warmth during this season of darkness.  Yuletide means “the turning of the sun”.  The Yule log was actually an entire tree, which, hopefully, would last the entire Yule season.  People would place one end of the tree in the fire to slowly burn, leaving the rest jutting into the room.  Just like the wood fires I enjoy burning in my fireplace, people of old enjoyed the light and warmth of burning their Yule log to lighten the dark season.

Candles are popular to light at Christmastime.  Scented or not, they engulf the room with wonderful smells and a gentle light.  Candles represent the star guiding the wise men to Bethlehem.  In Scandinavia and Germany, people set out candles on Christmas Eve to light the way for Kriskind, or Christ child.  In France, Belgium, and Holland, processions of children follow illuminated stars through the village streets.  Candles shining in the window welcome visitors to homes in Ireland on the holy night. 

Through the dark skies emerges a soft pink light...early morning dawn.  The five-pointed star atop my tree represents the Bible story where a star appeared over Bethlehem.  It served as a light to guide the wise men from the East to the Christ child, the bright morning star. 

A story from Germany tells us that the theologian Marin Luther cut and decorated the first Christmas tree for his children back in 1535.  Legend says that Luther was walking home through the woods one Christmas Eve under the bright starry sky, thinking about the wonder and beauty of the evening, wishing he could capture that moment to share with his children.  An image of a tall evergreen tree sparkling with candlelight came into his mind.  On his way home he found the perfect tree, cut it down, carried it home, and decorated it.  His children were thrilled. 

Evergreens are a yuletide symbol shared by many cultures.  Green branches represent the promises of spring and new life.  Candles or lights on the tree reflect the hope and peace of the season.  The Christmas tree is now a tradition that can brighten even the bleakest days of wintertime. 

Christmas is a season of giving.  The Victorian rule of thumb for filling a Christmas stocking was “something to eat, something to read, something to play with, and something they need”.  Do you remember years past when you or your children peeked into your stocking to find an orange, a book, maybe a ball, chalk, or set of jacks, and fresh underwear?

Christmas is not meant to be a season of stressful shopping, cleaning, and entertaining.  Christmas is a season of light meant for family gatherings and the Christ child.  As you light the Christmas tree this evening, think of each shining light on the tree as one of your many blessings.   ’Tis the season of light when one focuses on the true meaning of the Christmas season.  788 words

Christmas Family Gatherings

FROM WHERE I SIT       Christmas Family Gatherings  Dec. 10, 2012

Are you making family memories this special time of the year?  Truman Capote wrote my family’s favorite, A Christmas Memory, a story Dad reads to our family each year.  Kids remember if you hang their favorite ornaments, especially those they made in grade school on the tree.  Did you write and send Christmas cards?  Have you attended your church or school’s Christmas program or concert?  Are you playing Christmas music and watching the TV Christmas specials?  Have you made Christmas cookies or that tangy cranberry-orange relish that goes so well with your holiday Capon or turkey?  Those favorite traditions live on.  Kids DO remember! 

Remember children writing letters to Santa Claus and baking spritz and candy cane cookies?  Covered in flour and hands sticky with sugar and butter to grease the pans, the kitchen was filled with sweet smells of cookies baking in the oven.   Moms didn’t complain about the flour coating the kitchen floor and the sugary-doughy mess because this was Christmas family time, time to treasure. 

Cousins, aunts and uncles came to visit and taste the decorated cookies along with a warm roast supper of jello salad and white potatoes, a necessity on every Scandinavian’s dinner plate.  Dads would be outside chopping a live tree for the living room or at the tree lot to choose the perfect tree to fit in our home.  Mom would be hunting in the attic for the delicate glass ornaments, silver tinsel saved for years, and the music box church which played “Silent Night” with chimes. 

Mom’s Barsness relatives usually gathered together at Christmastime.  One holiday that stays in my memory was a Christmas party at Aunt Ruth’s house in Morris, MN.  Her tall husband Oscar, with his extra-thick, calloused, work hands, drove a sleigh, pulled by huge Percheron horses from the nearby “cow college” campus.  Percherons were thought to be in existence as long ago as the Ice Age.   All the cousins piled in, squeezing on top of each other, and we rode through the snow-filled streets of town, throwing snowballs, singing carols and screaming with glee.  This was a picture of total joy!  The cousins had a ball pushing the older cousins into snowdrifts.   Younger cousins couldn’t stop grinning.

After the sleigh ride, we’d shed our warm parkas, scarves, and mittens and tromp down the stairs to Aunt Ruth’s toasty basement.  Her lefse-baking, cast iron stove sat in the center of the room and against the wall stood an aged, oak, upright piano that we cousins would gather around to sing Christmas carols.  Cousin Muriel, looking glamorous in her dark red lipstick and black, curled hair, would harmonize with her sisters Dagny, Marlys and Orrine.  Cousins Anita and Wanda joined in, sounding just like the Lennon Sisters on the Lawrence Welk TV show.  Cousin Lois would pound those chipped ivories on the old piano.  Eventually, she’d rock out to her favorite tune, Frankie Lane’s  “Your Cheatin’ Heart Will Tell On You!”  After Lois’ gravel-voice solo, her sister Beverly would organize the girls into sopranos and altos to begin the Christmas songs we all knew from memory.  What a chorus of warbling harmony we were.  The younger cousins would try to harmonize, but mostly we listened in awe at our grown-up cousins, hoping to sound like them someday.

In the living and dining rooms upstairs, the aunts set up tables to play cards.  Surrounded by a blue haze of Lucky Strike smoke, the couples sat at crowded card tables playing Whist, where you bid high or low, and nibbled on nuts and mints.  No alcohol was provided on those afternoons in the Fabulous Fifties at our relatives’ homes.  Perhaps a hiball might be served later in the evening in the privacy of some homes.

Food, made by the aunts, was a major ingredient of these reunions.  Long wooden tables sagged with homemade offerings: hamburger and tomato casseroles, buttered lefse and dollar buns, scalloped potatoes, a large sliced ham with pineapple slices on top, jello mixed with fruit cocktail and whipped cream, pickles, pies, cakes, and bars.   Anything chocolate was devoured first. 

Some years, when my parents still lived, we’d pile into Dad’s Chevy, dressed up in funny clothes and go Julebakking—Christmas fooling.  What fun we had dropping in, unexpected, at some friend’s house in the country for coffee and treats.  Of course, if they weren’t home, some trick had to be played on them.  It was a Norwegian tradition Mom loved to celebrate.  We’d pile their doorway with sleds, shovels, and pitchforks or move the tractor onto the front stoop...anything to get their attention that someone had visited expecting to be treated to coffee and cookies if not supper.  Nobody called first; company just showed up and walked right into the warm cozy  kitchen of friends.

What treasured holiday memories I can share with you!  Snow is falling; the lake is almost frozen; the wreaths and garlands are hung; the cookies are baked; the tree is trimmed; Silent Night is playing on the radio while Buddy snoozes by the fire.  I’m relaxing, dreaming of a WHITE CHRISTMAS.  859 words