Decorating

I decorate for Christmas. Anyone who has seen my house around the third week of Advent knows that this is like saying, 'It gets warm in Death Valley.' My collection of angels has transcended the heady number of 500. That's when I stopped counting. I have no idea how many Santas I have. A couple hundred wouldn't be unrealistic. The manger scene is an amalgum of a few different collections. Olive wood from Jerusalem, plaster from my wife's set, antiques from my mother, and others that have become players in the story. It moves. The holy family and donkey are journying at the moment, surrounded by angelic escourts. The shepherds are out in the fields, somewhere toward the edge of the baby grand piano that provides the stage. The six wise guys and camels are over to the east, on the coffee table. They get to the piano on Epiphany. The baby is no where to be found, empty manger. It appears on Christmas morn. Cool huh?

I let it be known that I like angels and since then have been receiving all flavors and sizes of the heavenly messengers. The people of the church know that I have this affinity and gift me with great regularity. One of the best parts of this is that almost all of them disappear in January until Advent next year. My sister asked me why I don't edit them, the angels I mean. You don't get to choose people's generosity. Gifts are gifts.

That has taught me a lot about giving and receiving. I try to give things that match people. Sometimes this takes some research and I don't always assume I'm going to get it right. But it's more likely they'll know what to do with the gift. The other part of it is the receiving. I've tried to become a better receiver. I try to not only say thank you, but to see and notice and appreciate the gift that's given.

The gift of the angels was wild and crazy. It wasn't on the shepherds' list. But they received it with 'great joy.' So when someone gives me a chubby cuty-cute cherub, I swallow and look at it, the gift and the giver. And I mobilize the spiritual discipline of generosity. There is a message to be heard, even from cherubs.

Any way, come by sometime. But please, no snow men.