DECEMBER!

Well, it arrived, this new month, trailing all sorts of expectations, connotations, wishes and promises, surprises galore.

Yep, that’s December, all right.

The list makers among us—of which I am currently reigning empress—have gone into overdrive. Some of us (I won’t name names) have even begun early, which is clearly against the rules. So is using last year’s lists. What’s with that? If it’s last year’s list, it’s old stuff. Each year brings out new possibilities. Live a little, folks!

Here’s a thought I like: From a one-page reading in a daily devotions book I use, I read about helping Christmas come day by day. Many churches celebrate Advent, a time of preparation and waiting for the birth of the Christ Child. Along with the preparing and waiting, the church folks don’t hurry up Christmas—they ease it into being.

The writer of that particular selection has developed a practice of doing one new thing each day—find greens in her yard and trim some for hanging on the front door; winding evergreen boughs around porch posts and rails; arranging ornamental grasses from the yard in a jar on the porch; letting wreaths appear, one by one, on different days . . . .

I don’t have the kind of yard that yields natural greens and grasses in any abundance for decorating. But I can make my own brand of Advent preparation.

So far, in these first three days of December:

--I’ve watched a movie whose story ends on Christmas morning. The whole story is preparation for the ending.

--Each day I’ve practiced music for the coming Sunday—mainly Advent hymns and the prelude and postlude I’ll play.

--Yesterday I searched for, and found (!) the yarns I’ll knit into some of my Christmas gifts. The yarns, along with their patterns and notes about each recipient, are in a medium-sized tote in my living room where I can’t fail to see them, waiting for me to settle down with needles and another movie for company.

--Oh, and today I hung a wreath on the front door. The wreath was a gift from a friend who had too many decorations and wanted to share them with somebody. She also gave me two short pencil-trees that will fit beautifully on the hearth of my non-functioning fireplace and save floor space.

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In the big picture: The sewing machine is up, and the first strips of cloth have been run through to start one of three quilts I’m making for great-grandsons this year. Another day or two and the whole house will look like Santa’s workshop--yarn here, fabrics there, tissue paper on that desk, oh—and cards. Will I have time to write Christmas cards? Maybe a Christmas letter instead? Decisions, decisions . . . .

In another week, I’ll be wishing for some elves of my own to help with those quilts, and the baking, and the rest of the shopping, and the wrapping, and . . . .

If I disappear from view, look for me under the nearest pile of fabric, or tissue paper, or perhaps hiding out in my cave with a blanket over my head.

But don’t look too hard. I may need a mid-winter sleep.