Collapse of Christmas Present.

I can't wait to figure out which part of our crazy christmas to blog...it involves candles at church, refused homemade lasagna by rude kids, several declarations of I hate church, and one pyromaniac...or possibly, two, one slippery dress on a wiggly toddler and lots of lovely singing peppered with chasing my family back into the sanctuary while in the choir...and a 5:45am visit from an overexcited kid.

This was a quick note I saved to try to encapsulate all the mayhem that was Christmas Eve and Christmas this year.

Then too much time went by with not enough Christmas Eve sleep, and plenty more mayhem, so for the moment I can't recall a darned thing to write about Christmas 2009 other than the blurr of slightly trying moments mingled with lots of joy.

Although, there was one moment, in church last night, when a few of the choir members were held back from getting to seats with their families, I among them. There we were, in front of the congregation of our little modern church, with my family in the back row by the light switches. The handheld candles were lit all around, the lights went out, and I listened to the other voices, all of my friends and peers, elders and children singing Silent Night, normally so accustomed to hearing my own voice during Sunday hymns or in a lifetime of choruses, and it filled me with presence and memories of my big old fancy church I grew up in, and the other big old fancy church in Harvard Square I was a member of when the boys were younger. I thought, our humble little modern fellowship carries on the same tradition as every church, and every family in a church that night and for many others going back into the past, and more into the future.

Yep, there is something to be said for traditions and the emotions they stir, and then I read e.beck's post and thought, wow, I was thinking the same thing. And though I wanted to write about falling asleep before getting presents wrapped and waking up to the ending once again of A Christmas Story, right about when he shoots his eye out, and how S pounced on us about four hours later and ran up and down the wooden stairs forty-seven times the one morning he actually put his shoes - usually lost before the bus - on, until he woke the whole house, and about how delicious Grandma's lasagna was and how I got to crank the handle of the pasta machine, and the yummy zappoli, and the cookies galore, and the sugar and flour and honey coating every surface of the kitchen and then some, and so much more besides, but I wrote about the candles, too.

And then there was a toddler dancing with the jingle bell rock Santa that cracked me up, which was after the present opening carnage and going to the wrong house on the wrong street because it was the same number in the same place on a street that was parallel to my friends' whose cats I was taking care of...

Hope you all had a very Merry Christmas filled with joy. And that it's so fun, it ends somewhat like this: