TWO FOR ONE

I think that it would be absolutely splendid if the Christmas-holiday season could last all year long. From the Christmas music, to all the festive activities. From the way that people band together at this time of year, to the joy that comes from the core of this holiday: the birth of Christ. To me, there is an indescribable type of feeling that exists during Christmastime. It is a feeling so divine, and cherished, and I would love nothing more than if it could survive beyond December 25th. . .much beyond December 25th at that (and yes, I will admit that I am one of those people who plays Christmas music intermittently throughout the year, I'm not ashamed). For the time being though, I suppose that I'll just stick to drinking it all in while it makes its annual visit. The festivities that I had the chance to partake in yesterday definitely helped in my efforts to 'drink it in' this year. After about a ten year hiatus, I found myself in the audience of a Nutcracker performance again and enjoyed the opportunity to view it with fresh eyes (due to my not having seen it recently as well as sharing in my niece's first experience of attending a performance). Aside from that stroll down memory lane, my Christmas joy was heightened even more by getting to spend some time in downtown Seattle as well. For those of you who don't know, downtown Seattle at Christmastime is a magical place. With Christmas lights and decorations on the buildings and lampposts, horse-drawn carriages, the over-sized star on Macy's, the carousel that only comes out this time of year, the immense amount of Christmas-shoppers that pop up everywhere, and of course, good 'ol Santa Claus, among other things, it becomes a surefire place to experience some of the best things of this season. My mom, sister, niece, and I continued our Christmas-y day by making our way from the Nutcracker performance to downtown Seattle in order to take in the annual gingerbread house contest that is put on, in which architecture firms create some exquisite, massive structures. Although they differ a bit from the norm of gingerbread houses, it really is excusable because they're great pieces of art. From there we headed to Pacific Place to catch the 'snow'-fall that takes place in the evening. Evidently I'm not the only one who loves snow because droves of people were there. . .and it's not even real snow! The festive day was topped off with a delicious dinner, which, when shared with family, is wonderful even when it's not Christmastime. All in all, it was a joyous day that helped to solidify the reality that the Christmas-season is upon us, and I couldn't be happier. So, after all this, the moral of my story is that I am thoroughly enjoying this lovely time of the year and all that it has to offer and I hope that you are too. . . because it only lasts for so long you know.



________________________________________________



On a relatively unrelated side-note, there was one thing in particular last night that stuck with me outside of the 'Christmas joy' realm. The aforementioned dinner had taken place at a restaurant that just so happened to be right next to a quaint park/overlook on the north end of Pike Place Market, a hotbed for 'street people'. I've visited the park a time or two during the daytime and have seen it inhabited by a fair amount of such people, but last night, there was an even larger than usual number of folks who had made it their home for a night, or maybe just a pit-stop as they were passing by. Either way, from where I was sitting in the restaurant the street-level window opposite of me provided a straight-on shot of the park, giving me full access to these people as they went about doing their thing. There I sat, on one side of the window, seated in a warm building, dressed in nice clothes, eating a lavish meal in a nice restaurant with the company of my loved ones. There they were, on the other side of the window, out in the cold of the night, dressed in clothes that they possibly have been wearing for days,weeks,even months on end, who knows when the last time that they had had an actual meal had been, and for the most part, they seemed to keep to themselves except for a few who seemed to be finding some form of joy in hanging around other similar people. In my head I pictured the scene that I was in and it felt almost surreal. At one point, one of these 'street people' was no more than a few feet away from the window, and I was roughly ten feet from the window on my side. There we were, around thirteen feet apart from each other, separated by a sheet of glass, but in reality, we were more than just feet apart, we were worlds apart, not separated by something as penetrable as glass, but by something greater, something uglier. It was such a vivid image to me that even now I find it almost ironic when I think of it. How did I wind up lucky enough to be on the side of the window that I was on? What has kept me from being on the other side of that window? What has kept that man, and the others, from being on my side of the window? I can't help but think of that experience last night as a wake-up call, not only for me, but for all of us. There is so much to be grateful for in each of our lives, particular blessings that have gotten us to where we are, whether or not we deserve to be there. And in much the same way that when things are tough for us (which can be often as well) we appreciate the help and care of others, it is important to offer help and care to other people who need it as well, no matter what position of life they're in, whether above us, below us, or even among us. For who's to say that we've necessarily had a direct hand in getting ourselves to what side of the window that we're on, or if that's even where we, or anyone else, will remain for the entirety of our lives? Even though we often are separated by windows, walls, or intangible things, we're also inextricably interconnected and not all that different at the core of things. I just wish that that concept would already be so etched into my mind that it wouldn't take such a drastic image for me to be reminded of it.