I laid down with an angel.

 I know I've shared my Christmas story before; maybe on my blog "My Mid-Crisis-Life" or on one of the blogs I dropped such as "Keyboard Confessionals." That may still be alive and waiting for my return.

But, the most memorable Christmases I've had were the simplest and may have been less about me, and more about those who warmed my heart and touched my soul.

While living in Bakersfield back in the early '90s, one of my co-workers asked me if I would play Santa Claus at her 2-year-old's Christmas party. I love to take on roles. Playing Santa to some children would be the most fun, I thought.

I was working as a school psychologist there at the time and I often worked with children in their homes if they were unable to attend classes at school. One child I had tested and spent time with was a young girl battling cancer. She'd had a brain tumor, but from time to time she was able to gather the strength to attend classes. Each time was like a reunion with her classmates and the staff. I got to know her and her family between her visits to the school and my visits to their home.

As we neared Christmas her strength was weakening and her health was getting much worse. On the Christmas Eve I was being Santa, I was expected to arrive at my friend's house for the party. I decided to drive by this little Hispanic girl's home to see how she was doing. I drove through town as Santa, much to the delight of passing children in the back of their parent's cars. I drove into the neighborhood where the family lived, where homes were small, modest, and close together. This was expected given the standing of many of the families I served.

I found their house and went to the door. Someone opened to let me in after hearing my knock. The Christmas tree brightened the living room. The house was full of family members, and all broke into big smiles when they saw me come in as Santa. The father brought me to the girl's room. I was eager to see her and was shocked to find her curled up on her bed, deep in a coma under her blankets.

She was clearly very sick. The father asked if I would let them take a picture of her with Santa. I lay down on the bed next to her and held her close while the family took photos of her and Santa on this, her last Christmas Eve. The family was tearful and smiling as I walked back to the front door to leave. I never saw the child again but learned she died within days of that night.

I continued to my friend's house to play Santa for her child and friends. I was welcomed into a modern ranch-style suburban home with lots of Christmas lights outside and in. There was a buffet of food set up for families and the children. There were many gifts around the base of the tree and the home was crowded with happy people in a festive mood. I took my place in the overstuffed chair near the tree. I called up each child to talk to them about what they wanted for Christmas. And I "Ho, Ho, Ho'd" loudly for each child. I was a great Santa. And then my part was done. I expected to go change into the clothes I'd brought with me but was told that I was not a part of the party. I was told I had to leave, back out the front door.

It was quiet and dark outside. I don't remember the music or happy sounds coming from the house. I was a bit stunned and very much alone.

But, as I drove home from way over on the west side of town where all the big, beautiful homes with double car garages and neat lawns were, I thought about the small house in the simple part of town where I had been given a lasting gift of love and kindness.

I thought of that little girl and her family as they held her and loved her on this last Christmas Eve night.

I saw how a simple gift of love can mean so much more than all the gifts and showy lights and music a child may get.

I will never forget that Christmas and the child who reminded me of the true meaning of Christmas. I laid down next to an angel that night and my heart was forever changed.

This Holiday, all that Glitters is (Green and) Gold!

 I don't know where I left off in my writing. I could check, but today is the only day the matters for now. The sun is returning and they sat we may see 60 degrees in the afternoon. 

The snow that fell and froze the ground will likely be gone for a few days until winter comes roaring back. 

The ticking of the clock on the wall next to me; the clock set back an hour on Saturday night, if comforting. It might be on the buffet in Grandma's dining room. Or in the reading room in the library where Mom would later read to the children of the town. 

Yo can buy clock that don't "tick", but that would be like one of those barkless dogs. Something would be missing. 

So many gaps in my life and the world today. I can't visit my friends in Poland or Cambodia, or Portland, or Marquette. I stay home except to walk Cody my 12-year-old dog. I put on my mask and any smile and many kind words, go unseen and unheard. 

I will call a classmate from high school to hear a familiar and understanding voice. She entered my life from a country school when the big yellow buses started bringing the country kids into town for school. That was during the 7th or 8th grade. She was so beautiful and out of reach. Not, by her words or actions, but by my lack of confidence and experience. She has remained a dear friend; something she never was when we were young. We have walked the cemetery in our home town and remembered those we've lost and those we miss. I have no-one else who could take her place on those walks. We both seem to have a special bond with our town and the friends we knew. I have lived half my life elsewhere, out west. She has never left. We both are still tethered to the roots from which we grew. 

I should have know. Even with my eyes shut, some days the ball lands in my hands.  

Bookends:

I began this blog years ago and have pecked away at entrees from time to time.  Today we are in the midst of a world-wide crisis with global impact as dire as World War II and other wars and pandemics that preceded it. I never expected to begin my life as World War II was imploding to its end and drawn a close to my life's story as the world now strains against the overwhelming plague we now find ourselves fighting.

The title "My Mid-Crisis Life" is prescient if not ironic. 

I may retrace where my last entree left off and take up the prose from there. Or I may just share my thoughts and feelings, as I do on Facebook,  about the world we now find ourselves in.

Either way, I can't escape what brought me here and what leads me out of this fight. I hear all the promises of "We are all in this together." and "....... Strong" , as though saying it makes it true. 

We are not all in this together. We are each struggling in our own way; alone to cope, find hope, and to hold onto what gives meaning to our lives. 

I have my dog Cody, and he brings me much comfort and daily walks out into a near silent world with only natures whispers of a breeze or a birdsong. 

Cody, 11 year old rescue dog brings joy to my life.

The seasons change, but the events and plans that would come with it has been put on hold. I have vague visions of Paris, my Polish family, Cambodia, and other parts of the world, I hope will still be there when I am ready and able to revisit..

I have long felt a kinship with people around the world where I have been. Some have maintained those relationships through postings on line or Christmas cards. Some have faded into fuzzy images of faces and the places I last saw them. I cling to those images the way others count the number of "friends" they have on Facebook; minor players in an otherwise selective group on the stage. Even those I want so badly to be a part of my life may only fulfill that need by responding to a posting on Facebook or an email I've sent them. Some get moved to the back of the line, if not my mind, because they never or seldom show signs of life from their end.