Third day without power and internet. Luckily the last holiday orders are sent out and I can stay home.
The family gathered around the gas fireplace, little spots of candles around. Nothing to do, nothing more important than being with each other. Christmas gift itself.
It's four months since my Mom cancer diagnosis. One month since stage four update. Same mom that is a symbol of health and strength all my life. Quiet times.
Our scheduled 20 guests still don't know that we don't have the power, that house has not been cleaned and that my biggest worry is the tablecloth is all wrinkled. No power, no iron.
With all of it, I am so grateful for lack of electricity.
All the noise of daily worries gets muffled. Fire on, hot soup made, cat feed. The simplicity of basic needs is bringing us together.
We talk a little. My son gently tests the piano. So grateful for music. Another son is coming home instead of Japan. So grateful. There will be small kids at Christmas dinner. So grateful.
Somehow the darkness is so perfect for now. No rush, no worry about things we can't change. It puts us in true appreciation for the tiniest blessings. It puts us in gentle expectation of good things to come.
It seems very much like the Christmas spirit is here.
There is an unspoken inkling of magic, of the North Star, of hope. Of the miracle about to happen. It is not a hope of getting our way, our terms. It is a hope of deeper understanding than ever before.
To console more than to be consoled.
To understand more than to be understood.
To love more than to be loved.
As it's in giving that we receive.