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really excited about reading "A Christmas Carol" again this year. I read it last December and it was a wonderful integral part of my Christmastime amidst the changing family situation and the desire to grow closer to Jesus at this time than any year before.
It's one of a handful of things that will always (I presume) bring me back to this holiday time that was very intense and I think quite important in the formation of my adult self. (I really like those handful of things! I am really OK with taking the "bitter" with the "sweet"! I am happy that my life is as rough around the edges as it is because I am who I am and because God is good. He just is.)

-Another thing in that handful is the chai made by Starbucks that I started drinking around this time last year thanks to budgetary restrictions. (I mean that it's cheaper than the soy chai lattè which is my default.)
-Also this house...and my solitariness - not alone-ness, not loneliness but solitary-ness - which was very good as I learned to be drawn inward in a good way; to take good, sober, consistent self-inventory, to be alone with God, and to sidle up to Him in a manner of speaking. (I know it's very abstract.)
-Also my bristol-board New Year's resolution chart.
-Also, but to a lesser degree, my Crazy Love (2009) Michael Bublé album.
-Also Christmas shopping at the Stone Road mall on a buttload of occasions, a few of those with one dear friend who is also tied up with this time of year.
-One of my faves in this handful is the morning of the 24th sitting at a small table next to the window working on the supplementary material from our small group workbook that was meant for individual study during the 12 days leading up to Christmas. That material brought me through in a way I can't describe. (79) I was diligent in going to it and so every day it made me remember Christ and focus and see Him & His goodness/mercy/bigness. Eesh. At holiday and family time I ALWAYS need external help in remembering God (because it's so easy to get lost in the terrible-ness of where I am).
I was writing with a red pen, and I was sitting there waiting to hitch a ride with a friend who was heading my way on that very Christmas Eve. It was only the night before that my brother had called and asked if I wanted to go to Dad's place for the Eve and the Day. I was happy. If he had not called & offered I probably would have stayed home. I don't think - at least not last year - I would do very well with being home alone on Christmas Day. It shouldn't matter, in a sense, because it's "just another day", but it matters to me. I wanted to know that someone wanted [to see] me. I wanted to be invited somewhere but as the 25th approached, I worked harder and harder at being OK with being here because I just did not want to have high hopes dashed at the last minute.
So, I became resolved to it. It would have been OK. I would have spent the whole day in song and in writing and in walking and in worship and in relaxing and in remembering my Savior. It would have been good. But my brother did call and I did spend Christmas with my family. It was wonderful (for too many reasons). (80)
All of that is wrapped up in this snapshot of red pen on bound pages on a small round table by the window in the Clair Road Starbucks in Guelph. It's really cool. I like it. I like how memory works.