Turning the Page

One of my sweet grandsons was snuggled warmly into my lap. We had a big blanket tucked all around us, as the trolley swayed on the road, filled with festive friends and family...we were seeing the Christmas lights at Callaway Gardens. It was colder than it ought to be for a Georgia Thanksgiving. Some years, we're running around in shorts at that time. The smell of hot cocoa, s'mores and coffee wafted around on the air, with everyone bundled to the eyeballs. It was grand fun, and our group was full of merry. We're all happy these days when we get to do what we used to take for granted.

There's a big lake there, and our path meandered around it as we viewed the delightful lights and heard the crisp, happy music. As we turned a corner, I saw a lagoon on the right side of the road. All of a sudden, I had a massive flashback to when I was a kid and had gone swimming in that very body of water. Our youth group at church had gone for the day, one hot summer those many years ago. At 13, I was painfully shy about boys. Our music minister's son paid me two seconds of attention, so I was giddy all day and self-conscious about my awkward, lanky body in a bathing suit. Then my thoughts turned to a later summer at the same spot, when I was just getting comfortable in our singles group at a new church. There was a big, hunky guy that was on this trip and also made me feel oafish with his jokes and flirting. Pan to the present, some 40 years later, and here I sit with that big guy's sons and grandchildren squeezed up next to me. My blood all mingled with his, making these wonderful people. Who could have believed it? Not my klutzy self back then. 

In the passage of time, survival and many, many meals, we can forget where we came from. We can become complacent about the gifts we've been given. That fella's quirky, OCD ways irritate me and I drive him crazy with my inconsistencies. Pettiness can ruin pretty much everything, if we let it. And our belly-button gazing and preoccupation with our silly devices threatens to steal all our actual life. 

I didn't say much last night, a rarity for me. I rather enjoyed just holding those tiny hands, watching the energy of children racing about, seeing Christmas again through younger eyes. I can't understand half of what 3-year-olds say, but I marveled at their unfolding insight on the world at large. By the time we were through, we were half-frozen and ready to jump into the warm cars. The kaleidoscope of life and time took me on a trip around the lake, all with people that I love and cherish. What a merry Christmas indeed.