December 11, 2018 – Does grief ever end?

         Christmas number two.  Will I mentally count all my future birthdays and Christmases in A. D. format – as in two years after the death of my Mother?

         I wrote out half my Christmas cards today and I went to the Post Office to get stamps.  I bought stamps, then used the chest high postal desk where I proceeded to peel and stick stamps on each envelope of the first batch of cards.

         It was slow and pleasant work getting the stamps in the corner just so, lined-up evenly with the top of the envelope and the right side edge.  The task lasted a few minutes when I noticed an elderly men open the door – with all his strength – and walk to the counter and ask for “one stamp please”.

         That made me pause – just one stamp – he had a red envelope in his hand.  My heart ached for him – just one Christmas card to be sent?  Then I tried to put a spin on it – oh, maybe it is the special card – the one he waited until he had a large crisp bill to put in it and didn’t want it to arrive too soon or too late on the other end.

         Then, after he left, another older gent came in; he asked, “I need a stamp for this.”  I glanced up to look as I tossed the emptied stamp backing paper in the wastebasket.  The postal clerk put a large red envelope on the scale and said “that’ll be . . .” and the gent pulled a handful of change out of his pocket.

         Who carries loose change in their pockets anymore?  The answer is – the elderly gent who is going to post an overweight Christmas Card.  I rarely carry change in my purse anymore.   Hasn’t just about everyone gone debit card?  You don’t see much loose change in the parking lots anymore either, do you.

         My stack of cards now stamped, I go to open the door and the elderly gent gallantly pushes it open for me – but he is hard-pressed to hold the heavy door open for long.

         He waited until I put my bunch of cards in the outgoing mail slot before he slipped his lone card through the slot – off to his friend, family or loved one.  I noticed his eyes assessing me as I turned to leave.  He had a wistful smile. Was he thinking – you are so lucky you have that many people to send cards to . . . or did I remind him of someone.  I’ll never know, I didn’t stop to ask and now part of me thinks I should have struck up a conversation with him or at least said, “Merry Christmas.”  My Mom would have done such. Mom would have called to him, “Merry Christmas, have a nice day.”

         I am slipping, I am in a deeper funk than I thought – no it is the weekend storm, it is the Christmas tree half decorated . . . it is . . . excuses, excuses and more excuses I am making for myself.  That is what I am doing – making excuses for not moving on and getting beyond this. 

         How can I get beyond this – I can hardly unpack my Christmas ornaments – Mom is so tangibly there – in the 40 years of ornaments she sent to me, one by one over the years, or like the beautiful cloisonné bells – six in a velvet box I received only a few years back.

         On the way home I mentally celebrate ‘how nice’, I got the bird stamps so that the leftover Christmas stamps don’t look like Christmas – they look like I am living in the country where I enjoy feeding the birds, have an active life, and am in “ordinary time” when I stamp my envelopes with bird stamps.

         Why should I feel silly about using Christmas stamps in February or March of let us say August?  Why do I worry about the minutia of life that is not necessary to worry about.  In this fast-paced world – who is going to notice? 

         Well, I would notice if someone sent me a letter in August and it had a Christmas stamp on it.  I would wonder – no I would deduce – they don’t send out much correspondence – do they.  Was the Christmas stamp in the bottom of their desk drawer and they just now found it and I am the lucky one for their find?  Or possibly, do they think every day is Christmas?

         Now there is a thought – every day really is Christmas for those who believe in Christianity.  God is a part of our entire life, our every day, our every morning, noon and evening.  It is our choice to embrace him or not.

         Jesus the Lord, our God, and especially the Holy Spirit is with us every moment of our lives – we just need to “Be still and know that I am God.” PSALM 46:10

         On the ride home I am alone and I contemplate my A.D. - after Mom’s death sadness – when a shot of wisdom enters my brain, probably sent to me by the Holy Spirit himself, to think more about the before death of Mom, the happy memories and leave the sad grieving ones to melt away like day old snow on black top.

         Now I have a plan.  I shall not grieve the loss of Mom when I unwrap each sentimental ornament from the tissue paper, but remember when I first received it and how delighted I was, I will re-kindle that delight again and again, each year for all the rest of my A.D. Christmases.