I had an interesting conversation this morning, one that left me feeling rather maudlin. As we stood around talking about our impending move, a couple of my friends said things along the lines of, "I want to come say good-bye to your house", "I have so many good memories of your place" and "We've had so much fun there". As I reflected on that, it's true. This house has seen a lot of good times - parties, dinners, games, sporting events, deep conversations & raucus laughter, family chaos... all the stuff of genuine friendship and community. It really does have a lot of happy ghosts in it.
But...
The thing that made all those things great and beautiful and memorable was the people who shared them with us. YOU made those things ... not the house. Rob's shock at winning the Golden Head for 'most encouraging', Simpson & Steve being inappropriate with window writing markers, Vinny teaching The Girls about the civil war, Mark & Tina watching their daughters make me fat, hours of eucher, catan and some games i hate with Josh & Mamie, new year's eves, Christine winning best dressed at my 80's birthday, Sabrina's glorious cakes at said birthday party, wine tastings with Shanna & Andrew, JJ & Angela's first date, dozens of smaller groups, everyone meeting Mark, tearful conversations, ekklesia's first steps... none of them mean anything without you guys... the people who we love.
So here is what I would ask from you as we leave Morningside Drive. Come and fill our new home with happy ghosts. Come and sit, and play and drink and laugh. Continue to fill our lives with yourselves... your beautiful, complex, funny, sad and true selves. Our lives are empty without you... a house is just sticks and stones, but a home is where our lives intersect in a million little ways. The new place is just a hop, skip and a jump away, and it needs you even more than it needs furniture. Consider this my standing invitation to you to make our house our home.
Oh, and if you could come help us move, that'd be great, too :) I love you guys. Deeply & truly.
1. I think part of a best friend’s job should be to immediately clear your computer history if you die.
2. Nothing sucks more than that moment during an argument when you realize you’re wrong.
3. I totally take back all those times I didn’t want to nap when I was younger.
4. There is great need for a sarcasm font.
5. How the hell are you supposed to fold a fitted sheet?
6. Was learning cursive really necessary?
7. Map Quest really needs to start their directions on # 5. I’m pretty sure I know how to get out of my neighborhood.
8. Obituaries would be a lot more interesting if they told you how the person died.
9. I can’t remember the last time I wasn’t at least kind of tired.
10. Bad decisions make good stories.
11. You never know when it will strike, but there comes a moment at work when you know that you just aren’t going to do anything productive for the rest of the day.
12. Can we all just agree to ignore whatever comes after Blue Ray? I don’t want to have to restart my collection…again.
13. I’m always slightly terrified when I exit out of Word and it asks me if I want to save any changes to my ten-page technical report that I swear I did not make any changes to.
14. “Do not machine wash or tumble dry” means I will never wash this – ever.
15. I hate when I just miss a call by the last ring (Hello? Hello? Damn it!), but when I immediately call back, it rings nine times and goes to voice mail. What did you do after I didn’t answer? Drop the phone and run away?
16. I hate leaving my house confident and looking good and then not seeing anyone of importance the entire day. What a waste.
17. I keep some people’s phone numbers in my phone just so I know not to answer when they call.
18. I think the freezer deserves a light as well.
19. I disagree with Kay Jewelers. I would bet on any given Friday or Saturday night more kisses begin with Miller Lite than Kay.
20. I wish Google Maps had an “Avoid Ghetto” routing option.
21. Sometimes, I’ll watch a movie that I watched when I was younger and suddenly realize I had no idea what the heck was going on when I first saw it.
22. I would rather try to carry 10 over-loaded plastic bags in each hand than take 2 trips to bring my groceries in.
23. The only time I look forward to a red light is when I’m trying to finish a text.
24. I have a hard time deciphering the fine line between boredom and hunger.
25. How many times is it appropriate to say “What?” before you just nod and smile because you still didn’t hear or understand a word they said?
26. I love the sense of camaraderie when an entire line of cars team up to prevent a jerk from cutting in at the front. Stay strong, brothers and sisters!
27. Shirts get dirty. Underwear gets dirty. Pants? Pants never get dirty, and you can wear them forever.
28. Is it just me or do high school kids get dumber & dumber every year?
29. There’s no worse feeling than that millisecond you’re sure you are going to die after leaning your chair back a little too far.
30. As a driver I hate pedestrians, and as a pedestrian I hate drivers, but no matter what the mode of transportation, I always hate bicyclists.
31. Sometimes I’ll look down at my watch 3 consecutive times and still not know what time it is.
32. Even under ideal conditions people have trouble locating their car keys in a pocket, finding their cell phone, and Pinning the Tail on the Donkey – but I’d bet my ass everyone can find and push the snooze button from 3 feet away, in about 1.7 seconds, eyes closed, first time, every time!
It is dark, the interior lit only by the lamp hanging in the corner. Joseph leans over Mary’s exhausted body to tie off the cord connecting mother and son. Then, carefully wiping his much-used knife on the edge of his cloak, he severs it. Tenderly, he kisses her forehead, in awe at the strength and utter gentleness of her body. What a picture she makes. Cheeks flushed, brow glistening with drops of sweat, eyes wet with tears. The hay has become tangled in her hair, and with his rough, carpenters fingers he does his best to pick it out.
Head bent over this small task, he is suddenly captivated by the smell of the infant crying in her arms. Earthy and strong, but somehow sweet. Using the same cloak that wiped the knife, he ever so softly wipes the skin of the newborn, until the tiny, wrinkled face is clean. And as he runs the coarse fabric over the rise of a small, round nose, and across lashes and cheeks, it occurs to him that he will never be the same. Suddenly, he would fight to the death for this infant. He would sell off every meager possession he had just to provide for him. He would give up everything for this baby boy. In this moment, overwhelmed and awed, he can’t begin to understand the paradox that this boy will grow up to be the man who will give up everything for him.
Mary lies with eyes closed, half resting, half praying. An experience so completely human, and yet for her, so completely divine. She traces the lines of his face, counts his fingers curled around hers. Reaches down to count his toes. She looks up at her husband, who so faithfully walked beside her in this journey, and realizes how much she loves him. With only instinct to guide her, she lifts her newborn son to her breast, and feels the tug of his greedy lips. How does one suckle the Son of God? Shifting on the hay, she is oblivious to the crude surroundings, totally engrossed in the tiny Life she has borne. Was it really true? Was this little wrinkled, fragile life really the promise of the angel? As he nurses, and she rubs her cheek against the soft, downy hair on his head, fear begins to tickle her spine. Every insecurity, every flaw of circumstance and character, every doubt of ability… they all lay siege to her heart. But then the most amazing thing happens. From his place at her breast, the baby’s eyes find her face. And he uncurls his delicate fingers from her dress to move them shakily to her cheek. And the promise of the angel bursts into her mind, removing the doubt and fear. “Mary, do not be afraid. You have found favor with God.”
Who can presume to know the thoughts of God watching this birth? Who could count the myriad of angels, brandishing flaming swords, surrounding that stable in the middle of the night – ready to do battle against any things natural or unnatural that would threaten the life of mother and child? Who can imagine the shudder that ran through the core of creation to feel it’s Makers’ flesh after so long? Not since the Garden have the feet of God graced the earth. And now here they are, tiny and unused. “Did the grass sing? Did the earth rejoice to feel you again?”
A mother’s sweat. A father’s awe. The painful, tearing of body from body. A baby’s cry. O, Holy night. Universal among women, unique to Mary. The gift of God for one woman, exhausted and amazed, leaning back onto the rocky wall of a hillside cave. The gift of God for every person who would ever draw breath. O, Holy Night, indeed.
