Drunken cats and other signs of Christmas
Faugh on all you Advent-music Puritans! I've been humming Christmas songs since Thanksgiving, and I'm not about to stop! In fact, I may rifle through my music and put on a Christmas CD.
If most Advent music wasn't so dreary, it would be easier to take. I can be reflective and thoughtful without it.
You see, I'm all in the Christmas mood this year, for the first time in a few years. I've worked my way out of the despondency I was in, and zest for life has been creeping back.
I had a little bump -- a mini-panic attack -- the night before I went on the cruise last month, wondering what on Earth might go wrong while I was away. The last time (on a mission trip, summer 2005) I was gone on a Saturday the 11th of the month and returning on the 13th of the month, my brother died on the 11th.
Last year, I finally got in the Christmas mood and started humming Christmas songs right around Epiphany. This year, I'm going all out. I'm climbing into the attic and pulling out the Christmas decorations that have been sitting there for four years.
I haven't had the heart to do much decorating the last few years.
Oh, I know, the grimy-gullies are still out there, and **stuff** is just waiting for its chance, but life happens, anyway. God has gotten me through the bad stuff past, and will be there for bad stuff future.
I went to the Evil Empire tonight (America's largest discount-retail chain) and bought presents for needy families, humming along with the canned Christmas music the whole time.
I got the cats a catnip toy for Christmas, but gave it to them as soon as I got home. In fact, Elvis smelled the catnip as soon as I laid the plastic bags down on the table, and started rooting through them, looking for the catnip.
Catnip! I smell it! Where is it?"
Oh, baby, that's some tripping 'nip.
He rolled around, hugging it for a while, then dropped the toy on the floor. He didn't notice. Jack took over, holding the little mousie close and nipping and biting at it in passion.
Jack: Yeah, mouse. You're all mine, now.
Betsy got a squeaky-Santa pull toy. I had to throw it endlessly for her, after she chewed on it and softened/slobbered it up for me a bit. She would pick it up, run back to me, play tug of war until I wrested it away and threw it across the room, starting the loop again.
A good time was had by all.
More good times to come.
From the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 6:25-27, 34 (NIV)
Do Not Worry
2"Therefore I tell you, do not worry about your life, what you will eat or drink; or about your body, what you will wear. Is not life more important than food, and the body more important than clothes? Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they? Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life? ... Therefore do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will worry about itself. Each day has enough trouble of its own.
I'm giving up worrying so much. Not enjoying the good things God gives us is a sin.