Five weeks from today is Christmas . . . and we haven’t even celebrated Thanksgiving yet.
Thanksgiving is the latest this year that it can ever be, which means the Lenten season and the retail season are both truncated. Merchants, in particular, are worried. Lenten observers probably not so much.
Then there’s you and me. I can’t speak for you, but I’m feeling the rush, even though we know what we’re doing for Thanksgiving. And since it’s not at my house, I’m in good shape. Ordered a flower arrangement for the hostess and began packing my bags for Indianapolis where Earl’s family will gather.
But once we return from Indy, there will be less than four weeks left until Santa arrives; and I’m not even sure what we’re doing for that occasion. Sure we’ll leave cookies and milk for him and carrots for the reindeer. That’s the only given so far.
Because there’s not much time, I’ve decided to do just those things that bring me Christmas joy. They do not include hours of decorating a tree (The last tree we had fell over more than once.), displaying my collection of snowmen, or sending holiday cards. It doesn’t matter what our menu is on December 25. Nor does it matter if there’s gifts. Or snow. In fact, please God, no snow.
My plans include listening to the music of the season and even playing much of it. They include making sure I touch base with everyone who is important to me, whether it’s face to face or via Skype or phone. Maybe stockings on the hearth, because that’s an “Easy.” And church on Christmas Eve. All else is negotiable.
On reflection, perhaps the closeness of Thanksgiving and Christmas is a good thing for paring down all those holiday activities you do but without your heart in them.