A Christmas Wish for You

Kissing the Face of God

by Morgan Weistling

I've been thinking a bit about Advent as this month has sped by.  I've been reading about how other families manage to make Christmas a meaningful season, not just one intense day.  I've been thinking about seasons and how we have lost our connection with them in many ways.  I wanted to somehow bring together these thoughts and start making Christmas more reflective, more evenly paced, and less shopping mall-fueled.  Well, I guess good ideas have to start somewhere, small.  We've had a few lovely moments with the girls, started a couple of new traditions in a very haphazard way... but my hope that this Christmas would be different has been largely overtaken by the realities of tiredness, busy-ness and the ordinary stuff of life.  Right now I'm very tired after staying up too late wrapping presents and being woken up too early by small people.   My focus for today and tomorrow is on lists. 

But at the same time there is part of me that is still hopeful for next Christmas, (at least we get opportunities for improvement!) and is relishing the chance right now to reflect on all of this. And I realise as I write that in this one moment, in a small way, I am doing what I wanted to do all along.  

So my wish for you is that you get a moment like this for yourself.  A moment when you realise you are doing what you most wanted to do this Christmas.   When that moment comes, savour it.   Remember it.  And take it with you into the New Year.  Take it with you through into 2010 and let it make its mark on your plans, your dreams, your lists.  That way Christmas isn't just one day.... 

Take care and enjoy Christmas.  Thanks for your friendship and support... and thanks for reading!

happening around here

Remembering Don

Three years ago today my step-dad Don passed away. It seems such a long time ago, yet it feels as if it happened yesterday. Greer was a baby when he died, and now there are two more grandchildren he hasn't met. So much has happened, and so much has changed, yet I can imagine him walking in here now and I know exactly how he would look, what he would be wearing, and how he would be carrying himself, as if I'd only just seen him last week. I wanted to write this post about him, to honour him and remember him. But I can't do any better than what I wrote two days after he died, and read at his funeral, so these are my words.

December 19 2006:
About two years ago I had a dream. I saw Don running, wearing a singlet and a number on his chest, and I saw him run through the finish line, with his arms raised high and the biggest smile on his face. And I woke up crying, I cried and cried. I woke up pat and told him, crying. “Ring him” he said, so I did. “Don I just want you to know I love you” I said, crying. The poor man he would have wondered what on earth I was going on about. “Yes dear, I know dear” he said, and I could hear him smiling.

That dream never left me and the next day I was thinking about it and I suddenly thought, Don has finished his race! He’s done it! And I thought, maybe his race was to see me and Joy grow up, to be the man in our lives that would help us get ready for our lovely men to come. What if that was his race – to be our first man, and mum’s darling husband! He put up with our teenage selfishness and moodiness, and he made friends with us. Bought us KFC and doughnuts and got out videos for us to watch, he delighted in buying us new clothes and anything else we needed. He shared his music to us. I”ll never forget the time we were driving down to Tauranga, listening to music, taking turns to choose what tape we played, all singing along to a combination of the carpenters, petula clark and rick astley! There were so many things about Don that were strange and unfamiliar to us, but it was amazing how quickly he became so dear to us. By the time he had his second heart attack three years after we got married, I realised just how much I loved him. He was in my heart.

Then the next day after the dream I was talking to pat about it. “You know what I think?” he said “Maybe that means right now Don’s on his victory lap!” And I thought, maybe he is. And now that he’s gone, I really do. I think the last few years for Don were one wonderful victory lap.

And our precious kids, his most treasured grandchildren, they made it a victory lap. Right from the moment they were born he loved and adored them. They lit up his face. Joy and Dan lived with mum and Don for a year, and Anna got to have so many wonderful outings and adventures with Grandad. Anna and Isaac, Ella and Greer, Grandad loved you so so much. He is “Gandad” to Anna, and “Gwandwad” to ella. And they loved him, will always love him.

Don, if you could hear me, I would tell you how grateful I am for your love. Your faithful, constant, dependable love has made me who I am in so many ways. You opened your heart to me at the most difficult stage of my life, you never pushed me away, you never got angry with me, you always made it clear when I had annoyed or frustrated you, but you never held a grudge against me. You always gave me a second chance, you always thought the best of me. I know you were proud of me. And the funny thing is, that in letting you be a dad to me, I have learnt how to have a dad, and how to be a daughter, not just to you, but to my Rog, and for that I can never thank you enough. I may not have said these things before, but I never saw them as clearly as I do now. Watching you go early on Sunday morning, as the sun had just started to rise, has changed me. I see things I could never see before. We watched you take your last breath, and then in the moment you went, we looked out the window to your tenth floor view and saw the lights of the city, shining pin pricks in the darkness, and Lake Pupuke a glinting blue-gold mirror in the sun’s very first ray. It was like I was seeing a new city, in a completely different land. It was beautiful beyond words.

And this is what I think you saw. At 5:25, according to your watch, I think a man with a vaguely familiar face came into hospital room and tapped you on the shoulder. “Would you like to come for a walk with me?” I think he said. You thought about it for a second, and then you said “yeah ok, yep, that’d be lovely.” And together you walked, you so tall and strong and well, striding down the stairs and out towards the lake, away from sickness, and sadness, traffic and deadlines, lawns to mow and windows that need washing, into the glinting blue-gold of a new day.

And the empty space you have left in our hearts is enormous. We haven’t even begun to measure it, to chart its depths and its lows. But would we ever have chosen not to have you, to save us the pain of this loss? No. Not ever. Because even in going you have given us something. Your love lives on in us, and we will spend the rest of our lives so thankful, so grateful to have had you and loved you. You were one in a million.

Allie's Dream

Today I saw a dream come true. Eight years ago my dear friend Allie left a comfortable administration job to re-train as a dance teacher. It wasn't the easiest or most obvious thing to do, but she did it. A dream had captured her heart; to open up the world of dance to young people with special needs. Kids who wouldn't normally get to dance. And that's what she set out to do.

She now teaches dance in special schools and runs after-school dance classes for special needs kids. Today was her first ever end-of-year performance. A real show, in a theatre, on a stage, with lighting, sound, and costumes. A two hour show involving 30 students of various abilities. I wish I'd had my camera, but I didn't, so I'll tell you what I saw.

A little girl who inched her way to the front of the stage and couldn't stop smiling and waving to her family everytime she was on... and it was no ordinary smile... her whole face smiled.

A young man who captured the audience whenever he was on stage, who danced like he was born to dance, as if there was nothing else he'd rather be doing in the world, and who made us forget that every move was done with a huge amount of concentration and effort.

A girl who danced like a firecracker, who fizzed and sparkled and glowed. And never stopped smiling, an infectious smile full of the joy of being her.

Kids who may not have been able to run or climb easily, but who could move instinctively to the music, who could understand the story in the words, and who loved showing us that story with their arms, their hands, their fingers.

But more than anything, kids who in dancing found themselves, who were happy to be themselves, who in that moment were so happy to be in their own skin.

And I saw a friend in her element, living out what was in her heart. A friend whose dream had come true. Who in that moment was so happy to be in her own skin.

I want that moment for myself. I want to live out what's in my heart, I want to see my dreams come true. I want to be completely happy to be in my own skin. Don't you?

The Balloon

Greer loves balloons. She got given a beautiful blue one at the beginning of the week. On Monday she took it onto the deck. "Don't bring your balloon outside Greer, or it will blow away," we said. "Ok" said Greer, and she turned to walk back inside. Then suddenly she lifted up her arms and tossed it into the air. And then it was done. The balloon was gone. Tears and sobs.

So we told stories. Your balloon has gone on an adventure Greer. It has floated way up high into the clouds and now it's flying. That balloon is saying hello the birds. It might even be going to places you've never seen. Like other cities, other contries even. Suddenly we were all caught up in the wonder of this adventuring balloon. Oh the limitless possibilites! Except for Greer. Greer was simply distraught. So we changed the story. Your balloon might come back to see you Greer. It might come back at the end of it's journey to tell you everything it saw and did. Well.... it was a nice idea.

Then came Tuesday. Me and Greer were taking out the recycling. Which turned into a little bit of weeding. Which turned into a bit more weeding. Then suddenly I spied something blue in the corner of the garden! The balloon!!!!!!! What rejoicing there was. And ofcourse, we took a photo.

I was smiling inside for a long time after that. I could hardly believe it myself. Did our story come true? Did that balloon go travelling and then come home? Our prodigal balloon? Probably not. But it was a lovely thought.

I kept thinking about balloons. How magical they are, really. We can project onto them all our wanderlust and hankerings for other worlds. Our deepest longings for flight, and escape even. And it makes me very happy to think that in this age of technology, a three-year old still loves balloons.

Rain comes, two weeks later

I think I should tell you that finally two weeks after I asked myself the question here, I found the answer. I was thirsty, tired, and inside there was a tiny place inside of me that was struggling to live. Until I picked up my journal and a pen and started writing. And then it poured. How is it that we forget the things most important to us so easily?

Overheard after breakfast

Greer: "Ella do you remember when God came over?"
Ella: "What?"
Greer: "Last night. God came over. He was playing with us."
Ella: "That's no real. It must have been a dream."
Greer: "Yes."
Me: "What did you play?"
Greer: "Hidey-go-seek. I was hiding and then he found me. And then he found Abigail. And then he found you Ella."
(Said with the sweetest smile on her face.)
Then Greer bends over and looks at something behind the kitchen island.
Ella: "Greer are you looking for God?"
Greer: "No, Jesus."

!!!!!