Frydmania

A formal feeling

Just written another post about how to prepare for Christmas.  Grant you, it won’t get the turkey bought, or the crackers pulled.  But here’s another option.

Back in my teens, I came across a book called “A Formal Feeling”, by the American author Zibby Oneal.  The book tells the story of Anne, coming home for Christmas from boarding school.  The home she comes to is not quite home - her mother is dead, and a new stepmother is there.  Traditions have changed. 

Anne struggles with the changes, not just in the home, but in her father and brother, who seem happy with the new arrangements.  Slowly, Anne starts to remember that not every Christmas was perfect…

For some reason, perhaps because of the way the book builds up the details of Christmas - choosing the tree, singing carols in the choir, making the adjustment from being at school to being at home all day - it became part of my preparation for Christmas for many years.  Somewhat like an advent calendar, I would read a chapter a day, building up the picture of Christmas, building up the picture of Anne, and her mother.

This year, I’m starting late.  17th already.  But having lost five different people this year, friends and family, somehow I hope I can use reading this book to reflect on those I want to remember.  In some cases, there are shared memories of Christmases, and times after Christmas and into New Year, together.  In others, I don’t know how they spent their time.

Christmas is a time of repetition.  We start a way of doing things, and soon build up our own traditions, that are almost easier to keep than to question.  But Christmas soon turns to New Year, and new beginnings, even if we don’t want the resolutions that might go with them. 

Somehow, I trust that reading this book will help me remember the repetitions, and look for new beginnings too.  And, like Anne, that it will help me tease out what I think I remember, and what else was part of those relationships. 

Perhaps, one of the best presents is being able to accept life as we and others have lived it, good and bad, cut short or lived longer.  The title of the book comes from an Emily Dickinson poem, which ends:

“This is the Hour of Lead-

Remembered, if outlived,

As Freezing persons, recollect the snow-

First - Chill - then Stupor - then the letting go-”

Add comment December 17th, 2007

Crisp and even

Frost has stolen over even this mild coastal area of Edinburgh.  Yesterday and today, the garden has been covered - and stayed covered nearly all day.  The top of the shed was two tone at lunchtime, with one half normal colour, the other half still frosted over.

For those trying to get some sense that Christmas is nearly here, this and the warm coloured light are a reminder that it’s December, at least.  Heading off to the shops today, part of an oratorio came back to me that I must have sung over twenty years ago, our first Christmas concert when our school choir had just formed, and we were getting used to proper four part singing.

“Hodie Christus natus est…Hodie salvator apparuit…” Kindly, the school laid on Latin too, at least while I was there, which helped me understand what I was singing.  Today Christ is born, today the saviour appears…Even though it’s not ‘today’, the opening song wouldn’t leave me while I was walking up, and back to the shops.  Which is what it’s for, really - it’s the processional at the start and end of the piece.

As we get older, trying to find Christmas can get harder.  We expect it to appear in our homes, our spirits.  Some fortunate friends seem to retain the excitement, year after year.  The first year I was experiencing Christmas as a Christian, aged 19, I got some of that back.  I was singing carols, not just because it was the time of year to sing them, but because I was excited about what they were telling me.

Perhaps today, for me at least, I need the processional to walk Christmas back into my life, my home.  Going to Dan’s church in London, predominantly Afro-Caribbean, you sing the same song again and again until you are ‘walking’ in the truth of it.  It becomes part of you.  So, today, I process out of the house with the news of Christmas, and process back home, bringing it back in with me.

Hopefully it will stay too.  Like the best of guests at Christmas, there’s nothing like having someone who you want to be there.  Even a brief visit fills up your heart again.

Add comment December 17th, 2007