Mixing gluten free sugar cookies at two in the morning, while talking to my little brother and oldest friend. The cookie dough is delicious and piled in heaping spoonfuls on the greased baking sheet. A few minutes later, I peak in the oven... impatient to see the lumps of dough formed into solid cookie masses. I gasp. The sight which meets my eyes is not perfectly formed three inch wafers, but rather a befuddled mass of dough, spread across the cookie sheet without borders. Apparently, the instructions recommended a heaping Teaspoon. As the night dwindles and begins to shift to daytime hours, my brother and I snack on the gooey cookie masses.. sharing about life, love, and discernment.
Gasping for air and forcing my slightly stiff legs to propel me up, I finally join my father at the top of the hill. As we turn to jog down the road, one of the most beautiful scenes of western Pennsylvania greets our eyes. Words simply cannot describe the way mountains and valleys flow together in beautiful contrasting shapes and colors. In the mornings, fog would lay majestically...adding a type of mysterious calm. Its simply gorgeous, peaceful, and leaves on awestruck. After verbalizing the beauty, Dad and I fall to silence. The only sounds on the chilly morning are that of our feet landing in rhythm on the ground, creating a pattern with breathing. We run quickly, side by side, down the hill into the valley...legs and lungs grateful for gravity's assistance.
The large country kitchen and dining room are nearly filled to capacity. Friends and family surround the two large tables, plates begin full and change places with empty stomachs. Platters of cinnamon rolls, bran muffins, and pancakes sit next to bacon, sausage, and scrapple... with scrambled eggs and grits nearby. Coffee and juice flow freely, with lively conversation combatting fork shoveling food into mouths. I sit near the corner, munching on pancakes... although pleased with the delicious breakfast I've served, I'm more fond of the people who devour it. Every single person brings a host of memories to mind.. I'm glad for their presence on Christmas morning, but humbled and privileged to share parts of life with them.
Bon Iver echos slightly through the empty room, the sound quality limited by phone play. The swish swish of a paint roller on a cinder block wall indicates the activity. Fresh paint smell lingers slightly in the air, leaving one with a sense of change, freshness, life. While Tim's efforts change the wall from orange to tan in wide swatches, my trim brush carefully adds detail and line to the edges. Together, brother and sister, roller and brush change the wall color to a warmer hue. Although we work mostly in silence, bond and camaraderie are evident. In between painting, we share a bit of champagne and crackers/cheese for our Christmas evening meal. Wearing baggy sweatpants, oversized flannel shirt with paint marked t-shirt overtop, I balance on a step stool to reach the ceiling trim or curl on the floor to line the baseboard. While painting my oldest friend (and ex-husband's) house, I reflect on friendship and forgiveness. The hours seem to melt away... my heart and mind adjust, as the wall's colors change.
Five people walk down the lane, through the woods, and across the steep field.. stepping over muddy patches, gingerly walk through mini bogs, balance on cut logs, sidestep brush, or duck under hanging limbs. We are cousins and siblings.. friends and family. Our boots and shoes become covered in mud and leaves as we walk, discussing life.. the changes, the hopes, the hurts, the dreams... and supporting each other through connection. Its difficult to walk through the clear cut area, which once held the woods of our childhood. However, once on top of the hill, overlooking the farm.. its not hard to imagine that life may grow out of the ashes.
An extended Yoder dinner table laden with traditional food and dinnerware...with diversity created by the addition of wine bottles. Beautiful four part harmony hymns are sung by aunts and uncles... with lyrics researched on smart phones. Tinker toys, worn by use over time by generations to bring life to imagination.. young hands of an eleven year old create Star War vehicles. Serious conversation surrounds the table... while rambunctious laughter echoes from another room. Every contrast adds beauty..
These images pass nearly simultaneously through my mind... all a combination of old and new, representing change and process. I'm struck by the supportive relationships of family and friends, who remain the foundational pieces in my life. Certainly, each connection carries its own history, with both joy and pain building the bonds. In all of the picture descriptions above, a sense of love is nearly palpable. I kept saying that I didn't feel the "Christmas spirit" this year.. despite all the proper activities. But, while driving at three in the morning, I couldn't help but feel as though I'd experienced the truest sense of Christmas over the extended weekend.
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