A Christmas wish

I have a few presents wrapped but not one cookie cooked.

Worried, Tim said, “Do you need me to do the grocery shopping? Make me a list.”

Instead of rolling out pie dough, I was at the doctors this morning getting my body parts rolled.

It’s that time of year.

You know.

Flour. Sugar. Eggs, Butter, Mammogram.

Afterwards I walked back to the car and thought of how easy it is to go for the mammogram when you don’t have cancer. Or at least not that you know of. That’s not been the case for so many women I cherish.

Yesterday, I stopped by the yogurt shop to see The Redhead’s daughter. She’s the age now her mama was when we first met. She is a reflection of her mama in so many ways.

A week ago we spent a few days together in Bend, doing the holiday thing, minus the sledding. There was no snow. She brought me a gift. This one from her mama, another red bird for the Christmas tree.

Two years after her death from breast cancer and I’m still getting gifts from The Redhead. She planned it that way. That I would get the gifts after she was gone. The thing is, even without the red birds, the gifts she gave me continue to come to me every day. The thoughtful way she treated people and the intentional way she lived.

This week I was at the ABC House in Albany visiting with a woman who works tirelessly on behalf of abused children. You’ll read more about her in the upcoming book. Anyway, we discovered that we both knew The Redhead. Her son and The Redhead’s son had been in preschool together. In those carefree days before the cancer.

Yet, even then, The Redhead lived intentionally. Her tender ways touching so many.

I went by Karly’s gravesite, too. On the way I’d stopped at the store to pick up a plush reindeer and a snow-globe. What child doesn’t love a snow-globe? As the cashier was ringing up my items I looked at her name tag: ANGEL.

“You have the perfect name for the season,” I said.

She smiled.

Placing the snow-globe on the gravestone,  I ran my fingers over the words Karly’s daddy chose: “Precious Jewel, you glow, you shine, reflecting all the good in the world.”

The very same words could have been spoken over the infant Christ child.

Precious Jewel, you reflect all the good in the world.

My wish for each of us is that no matter what evils we face, we would continue to approach life with delight and wonderment, hopeful as a child at Christmas.

Merry Christmas, friends. Thank you for sharing your journey with me.