A tiny story and a musical gift accompanied by the wish that you will create moments in this new year that will make your heart swell –

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Emotions swirl more wildly than snowflakes during the winter holidays; an abruptly developing storm is not so much a surprise as an expected part of the mix of the details and pressures of families, those unlikely collections of quirky individuals, getting together.  So when my daughter, in the midst of an undignified wrestling match with a dull, right-handed scissors (she’s a lefty) and a roll of flimsy (okay, cheap) wrapping paper announced in utter disgust that she was staying home, it was just one of those holiday things to be gotten through.

To her in that moment, what was the point of all this fuss; of expending blood, sweat and tears (perhaps literally; I should have replaced the scissors, but honestly, I was using the good one and was in a rush of my own) — to wrap gifts in paper that would “end up in a landfill the day after tomorrow?”  Obviously, she was going downhill in a wheelbarrow, as her father would say.

Earlier that day, I had heard a recording of “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas”, played on the air by Terry Gross (Fresh Air).  Terry’s affection for this particular delivery summoned up imprints in my mind, bright images of moments when my daughters and I had created occasions to be together with friends or family.  The efforts to make these things happen had been monumental — but all the mess is largely forgotten; only the constellations in that inner sky of memory remain.  So my Leo’s and Orion’s are a midnight campfire on the beach, a ferry ride on the ocean, a Hendrick-style birthday for someone who had never experienced one before, a drive in the country so baby Belle could be there while my younger daughter and son-in-law chose a tree for her first Christmas, and most recently a one-day round trip to Chicago for a bridal shower where we (I) accidentally drove almost to Iowa by mistake –

Every single one was logistical chaos, impractical and tons of trouble.

I wouldn’t trade a single one of those moments.

This I explained to my daughter, saying some other possibly (read: definitely) unhelpful things as well, and falling into sudden hysterical laughter at her flash of rage over paper that “tears from the corner of a box but is impervious to scissors!“  This, too, was not useful to her; she threatened to simply drop the gift into a grocery bag; I gave a withering response about how the way gifts are given demonstrates caring.  Suddenly I realized that this was my gift, and I was quiet after that, fortunately, since it turned out to be a gourmet 6-quart saucepan, unwrappable by the best… But wrapped, nonetheless.

The squall subsided, but of course; the holiday was better than wonderful.  Its pure wonderfulness underscored the sadness that followed.

Upon our return home the next day, my daughter was faced with the terrible, indelible, incomprehensible news of the loss of a friend.  Without warning and for no reason that could be accepted, her friend had been taken.  “This is  crazy!” she thought to herself, “I have to call Juana to ask what in the world is going on –” and then realized with that deeply human despair that she could not call Juana, ever again.

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Your voice, the spark of the universe that resides within you — please share it today.  Tomorrow is not promised.

And so, I wish for you and yours a joyful new year filled with the sounds of your voices ringing clearly as bells.   Our stay is brief, but if we look and listen, we truly are surrounded by The Beauty of the Earth (your gift — and you can open it now!).