The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

For those of you muttering 'But Christmas is over', may your brains explode! CHRISTMAS WILL NEVER DIEEEE!!!!

And in any case, December's not over yet. So, here we go with another song study; a pretty obvious one. Sorry, not messing with a perfect title because, yes! From the day after Thanksgiving to the day after New Year's, it IS the most wonderful out of the 365 days in a year. The lyrics capture all the images that come to mind when one thinks about Christmas...

With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings...

With the kids jingle belling...

And caroling out in the snow...

Scary ghost stories... (HOW does that figure into Christmas outside of A Christmas Carol!?)

And tales of Christmases long, long, agggoooo...

Even those who have spent much of the season stressed, scared, mad or sad, there's no denying that the Christmas season drapes those feelings in a warm and white fuzz of comfort. I can say that because I've lived it. As much as I love Christmas, I've entered the season with little to no hope, faltering trust in God, and questioning my use as a human being.

Some call that depression, others an attack by Satan. Whatever the label, it's a valley. Same as any other that people fight through every day, month, year.

But there's a reason that this song acknowledges Christmas as the most wonderful time of the year. It's the fact that its light shines out to where you can't deny its glow, no matter how down you're feeling. When God spreads His light of hope and love at Christmastime, He makes sure that it finds you. Every time, everywhere, to pick you up and give you the strength to keep going.

And crossing through the crisp November leaves into the frosty December snow, He shines the brightest light of all. Because Christmas was the beginning of the end of our eternal separation from Him. Just like in the song, 'when loved ones are near', God was ready to welcome us beside Him with the birth, the life, and the death and resurrection of His son!

Yes, it's the most wonderful time of the year!

All the Merry Memories!

Come the morning of Christmas, this sight was met with me...

1 wake-up call at 5:30am

2 dozen cinnamon rolls in the oven

3 snowmen smiling neath winter sunshine

4 foot long icicles 

5 over-flowing stockings

6 snow-banked cars

7 snoring sleeping bags

8 bulging garbage bags

9 glittery place mats

10 poinsettia petals across my bed, each written with a reason why my husband loves me... yeah, we wish they were that creative!

11 Christmas carols on a loop

...and...

12 holiday pounds to shed in the shiny New Year!

The Final Pang

May 2019

            Senator Wilbur was afraid that his sweaty palms would work through the cardboard and ruin the contents of the box that he carried. Yet, he was more worried about it not getting delivered. It had shown up at his office two days ago; special delivery of Dwayne from the mailroom. The man had given him such a glare the whole time, even as Senator Wilber had thanked him by name. His glare had been one of the many searing his skin lately.

I wouldn’t know Dwayne’s name if not for Jung. Senator Wilber recognized. This revived his resolve. He climbed out of the car to stand on the chipped driveway on 28^thStreet. He glanced up at the brick house, cushioned between its wood neighbors. Its face had weathered with the years, but the flower boxes framing the two bottom windows kept its countenance cheery. That and its wide, open-air porch. This is where she lives.

            “Senator,” Brian spoke out of the front window. “With all due respect, it’s not good for you to be here.” 

Senator Wilbur eyed the bulky young man who’d been driving him over the last three sessions. He was working his way toward a degree in sociology. Senator Wilbur couldn’t think of a better place then the statehouse to gain some field experience. 

“I don’t care one way or the other.” He admitted to Brian with a slight smile. “When you come across people who wish to control your actions… don’t let them.”

Senator Wilbur left him with that and walked through the wire gate onto the simple square lawn. He came up on the house, box in hand and mind racing over what to say. He knocked and held his breath for the answer. The door was opened by a dark-haired man, gray at the temples and a face as weathered as his house. Judging by his upright posture and chin though, whatever time had thrown him, it hadn’t beaten him. He saw the same iron will that Jung carried. Did this man know what people were lucky enough to see it his daughter?

“Mr. Burgess.” Senator Wilbur nodded keeping his near mistake from saying ‘Pang’.

The slam of the front door blocked any further introductions. Senator Wilbur stood there pathetically, box still in his sweaty hands. He reaffirmed his grip, then knocked again. It took longer, but Mr. Burgess opened it. 

“I’m Senator Wilbur-“

“Yeah, I know who you are.” Mr. Burgess’ voice came cold and narrow, like his eyes. The senator cleared his throat.  “There was something I was unable to give Jung-“

“You already gave her plenty!” Mr. Burgess’ brow cracked his hard expression.

“If you spoke with her, then you’ll know nothing happened.” Senator Wilbur fought the fire spreading in his cheeks.

“I trust what my daughter tells me.” Mr. Burgess admitted. “But I would’ve trusted you to know better.” 

Know better as a senator or as a father? It had all become so clouded for Senator Wilbur. And he’d let it. The explosion of two weeks ago had yet to cool off, the rumors yet to die. The rumors as to why the senator had been paying Jung Pang so much attention. Smiling at her, laughing at what she had to say, taking his coffee breaks to visit her… it was gossip gold and he’d handed all the material needed on a rose-gold platter. 

It had about undone his wife… by the grace of God, she’d believed him. The same grace over Jung’s family it sounded like. Still, the fabrications wouldn’t cease for some time and he wished that sending Jung home was enough to spare her from it; the emails and Facebook posts thrown at her by the other interns. Their cruelty added to his fear for Jung. He was used to nitpicks and raw scraps given by the media; Jung wasn’t and Senator Wilbur didn’t want it to wear her down. People weren’t themselves when life wore them down. Senator Wilbur swallowed the bile of regret clogging his throat. “I don’t have any fair excuse for the way things were misconstrued. Yet, even with everything, I promised to help Jung with this.”

He held out the box, heartbroken that he wouldn’t see Jung’s face when she got it. Mr. Burgess drew back from the box, like it held the virus of yellow journalism. “I don’t know what your fascination is with Jung, but you need to-“

“This isn’t for Jung!” Senator Wilbur stopped him, a little tired of the curtness. He’d been encountering it all week and it did nothing to uplift the guilt already eating at him. “It’s the Father’s Day gift she was very desperate to find for you. I offered my help when she told me what it was.”

Mr. Burgess barely caught the box as Senator Wilber dropped it into his hands. The senator thought to tell him of the expensive cigars lying inside, which Jung had paid him for in advance. That she wouldn’t do it any other way. And she needed to wrap them herself. Make it personal… for her father.

“Jung is a pinnacle in this generation, Mr. Burgess-“ 

“I think you’ve given Jung enough compliments.”

“I’ll give them anyway.” Senator Wilber tightened his fingers into fists. “Because she deserves them. She’s-“ he thought of all the words he’d mulled over throughout the session, yet came up blank. No, not blank. Except for Rebecca’s face. Her sweet and smiling face, holding him up in hope all the years that she’d been alive. Mr. Burgess couldn’t know what it was like to lose that. To ask yourself what you could’ve done to keep it.

“She’s a daughter you can be proud of.” Senator Wilber settled for that sum up.  “You and your wife must realize that.“

“We do.” Mr. Burgess affirmed. Senator Wilbur swallowed. “Then I won’t be repetitive.” 

A politician always knew when his welcome was over-stayed. Senator Wilber turned and stepped down, feeling the familiar burn of confused tears. Why, God? Why would my daughter do this to me? How could You let her think-

“How old was your daughter?”

The question got Senator Wilber to look back at Mr. Burgess. His eyes had eased, the box an awkward fit in his hands. Senator Wilber drew a breath, drawing the tears back. “22.”

They studied each other, father to father. The wind picked up, creating comforting creaks in the fence. Had Mr. Burgess played with Jung in this yard? Taught her to walk, throw a ball, maybe. Jung always looked like she had an arm on her. Rebecca’s left had been wicked, but the rest of her had been too graceful for anyone to guess. Until they put her on second base-

“Rebecca was 22.” Senator Wilber repeated, wanting the shortness of the number to reach Mr. Burgess. “She always said that a day without a smile was a day wasted.”

Mr. Burgess leaned back on his heels, though the guard remained. Senator Wilbur stepped back to the porch, wanting his expression to explain what his words couldn’t. “It’s not just grief we’re fighting, Mr. Burgess. It’s… disbelief, and guilt. I met Jung and… it disappeared for a moment.’

‘I’m jealous of you, Mr. Burgess.” Senator Wilbur pressed at the corner of his eye with his thumb. “Jealous of what you and your wife have in Jung. She’s many things that Rebecca was. And now suicide’s something I have to associate with her. And- I can’t. I wanted some of the old memories back. And for what that cost Jung, I apologize.” 

The air hardly felt cleared, but Senator Wilbur breathed a little easier. He and Mr. Burgess were back to considering each other, until Mr. Burgess nodded. “I’ll let Jung know that you stopped by. And…” he gestured with the box. “Why.”

Senator Wilbur bobbed his head in thanks. “Pass along my apology as well.”

He turned and walked to the car and Brian. His sigh finally came with some resolve. The sadness was still there... but there was also hope. 

THE END

Pang on St. Patrick's

March 2019

            Another month and a half of this! Senator Wilber stopped at the bottom of the stairs. He had been trying to pound out his frustration through the heels of his shoes, but to no avail. They only echoed aimlessly down the hall. It was the entrance to a series of tunnels that linked four of the government buildings together. It saved them from having to pass through the multiple opinions shouting at them from the lawn. Senator Wilbur knew it was only a temporary solution. He seethed, staring off with the hallway walls. There’s no pleasing anybody! No matter which way I choose, someone’s going to hate me!

            Same old song, yet he found himself raving it every year he pulled himself back into this madhouse. Constituents lined up to rant about their problems to him, he tried his best to follow through for the good of his district… only to have them get angry for, apparently, not doing what he had heard them ask him to do! Not that Senator Wilber made a habit of this complaining. There would be no pleasing everyone, no matter what profession one entered in life. A politician simply bore the brunt of it. The construction bill though, it was a good idea. It would work towards creating hundreds of new jobs in his district and the surrounding counties. People moving in to fill those jobs would boost revenues in the other industries.

            However, the workers who had been breaking their backs for twelve or twenty years weren’t willing to take those new jobs without higher pensions and full benefits for themselves. They argued it on the basis of seniority. Only, no one was willing to provide the money to cover said benefits. 

            Wasn’t there a parable about this?Senator Wilber’s memory pulled at a sermon he had heard last month. A story about an owner who paid the same amount to workers he’d hired at different times of the day. He remembered it because his wife had accompanied him to the service. He’d been able to go home last weekend. Little had been said, but as he was headed out the door Sunday morning, his wife had appeared on the stairs; dressed and groomed.

‘I- I don’t want to be alone today’ had been her words. 

‘I wouldn’t want you to be.’ Senator Wilber had answered her.

She’d revealed a former shade of the woman he’d loved for twenty-seven years. She hadn’t come back completely; but then, neither had he. Likely, neither of them would ever be ‘back’. But it was enough. He’d surprise her by coming back this weekend. I’ll make her St. Patrick pancakes, with the mint chocolate chips…

            Senator Wilber’s phone pinged after an unusual 15 second lapse. It wasn’t a call, but an email. All emails had to go through Mrs. Chapman, but on the occasion one slipped through. Even though his cell number was supposed to be private. Like the word ‘private’ meant anything in this century. Senator Wilbur opened the email.

            You think you can just run our lives! The text screamed out. Why don’t you end it, like your daughter did!

            Senator Wilber deleted the words immediately, skin going cold, though heat gathered up the back of his neck. How dare that-

            “Senator Wilber.” 

            He turned his head, angry at the interruption. Until he saw who it was. Seated on the bench in the whitewashed, underground hallway was Jung Pang. As always, her timing proved to be perfect. Balming, even. It was in an ivy green turtleneck and skirt today, her hair smoothed into a ponytail. It was one of those high ones that Rebecca had always favored. His daughter’s hair had been so unruly, she’d spend hours fussing with it… Senator Wilber put his phone out of sight and walked up to Jung, ejecting a smile. He had come to expect Jung giving one to anyone that came in her proximity. Today, she didn’t disappoint- only it didn’t seem her usual genuine. 

Senator Wilber gave this his concern, pushing the burn of the email’s words back. “Miss Pang… are you well?”

            She let out a groan; an odd sound from her. “That is a trifold question, Senator Wilber. Mentally and spiritually, I’m fit as fiddle. Physically however…”

            Jung lifted her right foot then. The heeled shoe had been discarded to show the torn stocking over her heel and knee. The ankle was beginning to swell!

            “Good grief, Jung!” Senator Wilber took the bench beside her. “What happened?”

            She lifted her ankle higher with a chuckle. “I tried to save time by taking the stairs three at a time. It backfired.”

            “I’ll call the house physician.” Senator Wilber pulled his phone back out.

            “You really call him that?” Jung laughed. She tapped her knee. “His office is on the second floor, you know. And we’re not allowed to use the elevators during the lunch hour…”

            A swollen ankle and she still talks.Senator Wilber waited for someone to pick up Dr. Lane’s line. Suddenly the talking was replaced with a sharp whistle shooting down the cavernous hall. He looked at Jung, who was eyeing the little concession stand at the far end. It was an accommodation that had been put under the statehouse in the nineties, so the officials could avoid the public when need be. Several of Jung’s fellow interns, lined up innocently for their snacks, had turned their heads.

            “Trevor!” Jung waved at them. “You have big arms. Can you give me a lift?”

            She held out her ankle at full length to do the self-explaining. They stared at it, then back at her face. Because her face did something very odd; it frowned.  Senator Wilber skulked back an inch, spooked.

            “You watched me tumble down and limp like a war hero onto this bench.” Jung yelled to her line of co-workers. Her fingers were tapping on her knee again, like an impatient schoolteacher. Not one of the interns moved. 

They’re not going to risk losing face for her. Senator Wilber realized sadly. Most of the interns that came through their program were pursuing political careers themselves. And so much of that had to do with public image… one that didn’t involve lugging injured women up three flights of marble stairs. Course, Senator Wilber was willing to get her access to the elevator-

“Senator Keith from District 11, he doesn’t abide a male butt to rest when a woman’s present.” Jung continued to let her voice travel to the concession stand. “Nor for a man to walk through a doorway ahead of a lady, even if she’s half a mile behind him! So why don’t you hike up your balls, get over here, and show some chivalry!”

            All this was spoken an octave higher then casual conversation, the frown still burning on Jung’s face. Senator Wilber turned his own face away to conceal the laughter rising up through his chest. So much like Rebecca; loud and indifferent to the ways of the world. Only, by age sixteen, she had mellowed out. Jung obviously hadn’t. 

Senator Wilbur didn’t look back until he heard footsteps skidding across the speckled tile. Composing himself, he turned and saw one of the boys- not Trevor- coming up in quick short steps to the bench. Jung’s face alighted at his arrival. “Thank you, Wade. This’ so sweet of you to take the time…”

            She was acting like it was Wade’s idea! Senator Wilbur gripped his knee, further squelching his laughter. He thought again about his offer of the elevator… but he didn’t want to diminish the young man’s gesture anymore then it already had been. Course, there was Jung’s ankle to consider. And they needed to let her parents know. She would need someone to pick her up.

“I will try Dr. Lane again.” Senator Wilber announced his role. He rose with Jung as Wade put her weight onto his right side. “We’ll still take the elevator.”

            “We’ll be fine-“ Wade began a polite protest.

            “We would be honored, Senator Wilbur.” Jung cut him off, her smile back in place through her shifting against Wade. “It’s fortuitous in fact. I’ve not been able to catch you up on the last week, and oh, did you know that Wade’s from your district?”

            Senator Wilbur eyed the brown-haired Wade, who looked petrified and embarrassed to be presented this way in front of a politician. The senator looked back at the line of interns, scattering with their purchased snacks. Takes courage to do something that nobody else will. 

Senator Wilbur stuck out his hand. “A pleasure, Wade. Where do you reside in my fair population?”

            “That town with the unpronounceable name.” Jung answered, moving the three of them forward. Even though she was the one sporting an injury. It affirmed Senator Wilbur’s theory that nothing could slow her down. He hoped that nothing ever would.

~To Be Continued~

The Thank You Pang

February 2019

            “Ah, Senator Wilber!” Jung Pang’s voice swept into the front office of the house chambers; somehow causing an air of frost to come pushing through. It was likely a back draft from the open front doors. There had been a protest rally across the front lawn all day, so security hadn’t been able to actually close them at any given time.  And they weren’t likely to either. It was in regards to a bill on state construction wages for future contractors outside of state lines. Said companies would agree to higher wages without the added benefits, while the workers wouldn’t settle for anything other then full benefits. Age-old story; working class versus the cooperate heads.

         Among the many bills, there was always one that rose above the others. Every session had its one headache above the others. This session, it was this bill, causing many stern faces and sour attitudes among the senate and house floors. So naturally, Senator Wilber looked up eagerly as Jung Pang entered his office. He was having to attack this afternoon’s itinerary with Mrs. Chapman and needed something to perk up the drab lineup. The young girl’s black hair was done up and- there was orange! A very bright- no florescent- orange peeking out from under her gray-checkered jacket. 

         “What in the world?” Mrs. Chapman whispered before Jung came within hearing range.  Senator Wilber swallowed and tried not to squint. “Miss Pang?”

         “Finally.” Jung waved emphatically about the room, her smile spreading with her hand. “I’ve been trying to track you down since eight this morning. You know how many times I walked into this office?”

         “You did?” Mrs. Chapman’s entire face narrowed. She was extremely territorial about the space she guarded with her desk. Jung gave a sly grin. “Not that you would’ve seen. You weren’t here.”

         She produced a whicker basket that had evidently been at her side the whole time. “Course, I wasn’t able to do more then poke my head in. Otherwise I might’ve just left it on your desk… but where is the flair in that, other then, like a Valentine’s Day candy bouquet…”

         By this point in her long-winded explanation, she had produced a sealed, square envelope out of the basket. She rendered it before Senator Wilber with her regular flourish. He’d been watching it nearly every day before session, outside the old oak doors. He accepted it. “For me?”

         “For you, Senator Wilber.” Jung confirmed. “I thought it best to deliver it in person. I tired the mail system here last week and let me tell you, lesson learned.”

         Mrs. Chapman gave an understanding nod to that. “Anything not marked exclusively to an office gets tossed in the nearest waste basket.”

         Senator Wilber gave a smirk, breaking the seal on the envelope.

         “Lt. Governor Stillman might have told me that, but a lot slips up and through in the same second if you know what I mean,” Jung tapped a nail to her forehead. “On the offhand, someone really needs to have a chat with the staff down there. Not the disciplinary kind, but the friendly, campfire-side kind.” She swung the basket with her thoughts. “When you think about it, they must be pretty suppressed, working in that windowless basement room all day long. Now Dwayne, he has a sunny disposition I’ve noticed, but even he could use some Vitamin D once in a while.”

         She sighed off the end of that. Senator Wilber was looking down into the envelope by now. He pulled out an ivory card scrawled across the front with a golden Thank Youscript. Thank you? For what?

         “For the poinsettias you were thoughtful enough to get me.” Jung answered his silent question. “Granted they died by January, but I loved walking in and having them greet me on my desk every morning. It explains all in there about how wonderful they were.”

         The poinsettias! He hadn’t thought about them at all since he had asked Mrs. Chapman to send them out. He always sent out about forty bouquets of them at Christmastime, to friends and colleagues that he was actually fond of. Stillman hated them, but that was why Wilber sent them… to get back at him for the revolting Whoppers that Stillman sent him every Halloween. 

         “You certainly didn’t have to go to the trouble.” Senator Wilber looked up at Jung. She cocked her head in a moment of gauged questioning. “Well, what else was I supposed to do? Someone gives a gift, you respond in kind.” 

         Just like that huh?Senator Wilber wondered at her simplicity of words.

         “I do apologize that it’s so late.” Jung’s smile quirked along with her shoulder. “Uncle Morty keeps me busier then a rabbit before Easter. I actually had them written a week ago, but then my desk mate went home with strep and…” She threw out her arm again. “It was allon me! The emails, the phone calls, the appointments and the drop-ins… good grief the drop-ins.”

         Where most would state this with discouragement or disgust, Jung’s voice carried her usual exuberated wonder. Did nothing phase her?

         “… but of course, I needed to pass them out before Valentine’s Day.” Jung concluded, her cheeks going rosy at the mention of yet another holiday. “Avoid any confusion.”

         Ironic, since Mrs. Chapman’s face was looking more confused by the minute. Senator Wilbur found those looks funnier then they ought to be.

         “Any whirlwind plans for you and yours, Mrs. Chapman?” came Jung’s next vibrant question. Mrs. Chapman sniffed. “Couldn’t say, Miss Pang.”

         This lifted Jung’s eyebrows, enhancing her eyes. “He’s going to surprise you, then?! That’s always the most romantic…” Her head whipped to the senator. “Do you have a similar battle plan, Senator Wilbur?”

         Senator Wilbur shook his head with a familiar drop in his heart. “It is during the week, Miss Pang. No telling when session will end that night.”

         That gave Jung a second’s pause. Her gaze steadied, eyes going tender; and her smile never faltered. “My dad had to be in Colorado one year for Valentine’s. Mom didn’t care, as her monotone claimed, but Dad wasn’t going to let that deter him. He had me and Carter…”

         Another story. Senator Wilbur rubbed at his chin to keep his grin minimal. Poor Mrs. Chapman… she was holding the itinerary at shoulder level now, hinting at Jung. Too bad, Jung was going full tilt now. “… I had to ask him why go to all the fuss and run up our cell phone data. You know what he told me?”

         She left no time for Senator Wilbur to guess, hugging her basket eagerly. “That this was his only day to love Mom like this. That when you marry, you have to make the most of the time with your spouse because you never get that day again.”

         “Oh heavens.” Mrs. Chapman shook her head. “A young lover’s fairy tale.”

         The tale every girl falls for. Senator Wilbur recognized. The amount of glittery storybooks I bought Rebecca…

         “It’ll be thirty-one years for them in September.” Jung sighed over Mrs. Chapman’s skepticism. “It all breaks down to the days… the moments.” She reached out, patted Senator Wilbur’s knuckles. “I encourage you to make as many as you can, Senator Wilbur. Mom still smiles when she thinks about it… bet your wife would too.”

         Senator Wilbur’s ears picked up at that. A smile… he would like to see that on his wife’s face again.  

         “I really need to get the rest of these to their rightful owners,” Jung lowered her wristwatch and patted her basket. “Before the afternoon rush claims them into the long claws of the night.”

         She was already stepping toward the doors, her orange shirt sending a final flash before they opened and closed behind her. Senator Wilber looked where she had been standing, then back at Mrs. Chapman. She shook her head. “That one… be careful around that one, sir. She’s too expressive.”

         “Well, she obviously appreciated the poinsettias.” Senator Wilber chuckled. “At least somebody at that office could.”

         “She doesn’t have to go making a big noise about it.”

         No, no she doesn’t.Senator Wilber recognized, turning the card over in his hands. But it feels good.

         Perhaps better then giving the gift. 

~To Be Continued~

The Christmas Pang

"May our Lord Jesus Christ Himself and God our Father, 

who loved us and by His grace gave us eternal encouragement and good hope, 

encourage your hearts and strengthen you in every good deed and word." 

~2 Thessalonians 2:16~         

November 2018

"Here we come a'caroling, among the leaves so green..."

          Hearty voices of a choir sang out their Christmas song as Senator Wilber entered the forefront of the Lieutenant Governor's lobby. He was halted on his first steps in. Was... was he in the right place?

          The rectangular room that served the receptionist and the Lt. Governor's assistant was the same as any other of the executive offices, if not slightly more adorned. An arched ceiling over twin couches, desks, and cream-colored walls. Today however, it had been turned into a maddened maze of garlands, decked in multi-colored lights and massive red and mauve bows. Poinsettias were mantled on each desk and every other surface available. And across from the senator, nestled between the two floor-length windows, a family of snowmen waved to him from the base of a four-foot Christmas tree; which was adorned in every shape of ornament imaginable.

          The lobby had officially thrown up Christmas. It must have been compensating for the lack luster, which Senator Wilber had noticed in its fellow offices. Not to say that they were bare... just nothing new. Course, he'd made no special effort on his part to add that certain yuletide to his own space, just across the north atrium of the statehouse. His schedule didn’t allow it. No one’s did. If anyone had any specifications, they let the decorating staff know.

          So, the question is, Senator Wilber glanced around the lobby. Who convinced the lieutenant governor to go all out? 

Spotting no one amongst the Christmas chaos, Senator Wilber assumed he would have to come back later. He hadn't made an appointment- he and Morton rarely did- because a new proposal had come onto his desk only twenty minutes ago, for the Main Street Council. There were always plenty of those this time of year... and Thanksgiving had only been yesterday!

          Snap! Came a random noise. Crackle!

          "Pardon me?" Senator Wilber spoke out of reflex, looking in the direction of the fireplace that sat against the east wall. Instantly, a head popped up. It was a young girl's head with blushing cheeks, big eyes, and a coil of black hair decorating the top of her head. Her darker skin- Asian, or Polynesian perhaps- brought back a memory from last week. Morton had mentioned an adopted niece or something coming to intern at his office. Senator Wilbur deduced. This must be her.

          "Merry Christmas!" the girl, of nineteen or so, jumped up to reveal soot smudges along her forearms and the front of her canary-yellow sweater. If there was any on her skirt, it was too black and plaited to notice.

          Hold on... Senator Wilber gazed from her to the fireplace suspiciously. You can make fires in that thing? I've never...

           "Pardon my mess," the girl swung around one of the varnished end tables to replace the poker in her hand. "I've been slaving away, getting this place whipped into shape for the season. This is my first week, you know. Want to start things off with a bang!" She spun on her heel to face Senator Wilber again, all the while holding the merriest of smiles on her face. "I'm Jung Pang, the new receptionist here. And, as I said before, Merry Christmas!"

          "I..." To say that Senator Wilber was being thrown for a loop was an understatement. "I'm looking for Lt. Governor Stillman. Is he in?"

          At that, Jung's smile vanished. Well, not so much vanished, but diminished. Senator Wilbur swore he felt the air in the room dampened along with it. 

"You don't have anything you'd like to say back?" Jung inquired, eyes intent on his face. Senator Wilber raised a brow at her unprofessional direction. “Excuse me?”

          "Well," Jung waved her arms at him dramatically. "I say 'Merry Christmas'... you say..." She nodded at him. Senator Wilber paused, gauging this youngster. "And a Happy New Year?"

          She dropped her arms and picked her smile back up. "I'll take it. Mr. Stillman is currently out to brunch with the Agricultural Bureau. Likely, he'll be back within the hour. Do you intend to wait?"

          "Yes." Senator Wilber answered without thinking about it. He knew there was plenty back at his desk to occupy him until Morton got back. Right now though, he was preoccupied with wrapping his mind around this new personality.

          "Perfect!" Jung cried, clapping her hands together. She bee-lined behind one of the desks. "Then you're free to help me set up the Christmas village! It's a relief that I won't have to drink my tea all alone; I hope you like Sweet Harvest Pumpkin. I warn you, it's caffeinated, that's okay right? I need my caffeine in the morning if I'm to make it to lunchtime, but I don't like coffee you see..."

          I've never heard of such a thing. Senator Wilber stepped closer to view the fireplace. Sure enough, orange flames, long and warm, danced behind a chain mail grate. Who doesn't like coffee? And WHEN did that fireplace start working? I've been coming in here for eleven years and haven't seen a single spark.

          "It’s fortunate that this mantle piece is so expansive." Jung emerged, totting two humungous hatboxes over to the center coffee table. "Otherwise, the floor of my room would be littered with matted cotton and wondering ceramic figures."

            Senator Wilbur watched her pop each lid off its box, revealing shredded confetti and bubble wrap. Each movement held such a flourish, burst with a segment of purpose and color… and she planned to work here! The statehouse was where flourish and purpose turned into headaches and stalemates. A cold reality, but Senator Wilbur was only going off what he had seen taken from other interns.

          "These are you personal decor, then?" Senator Wilber asked before his gloomy thoughts went any farther. If she was a relative of Morton's, he must've given her a little leg room in managing the lobby. And who was he to squander such a joy-filled mission? Christmas had always budded the best out of his family, leaving smiles on their faces into February.

          Jung was giving him an eager grin as she lifted the first wrapped figure out of the hatbox. "These, dear Senator, are my legacy. I was given my first when I was six, the year I was adopted from Korea. It was my first Christmas and I couldn't take my eyes off of it. So, my parents bought if for me. I own thirty-one of the collection now, but I always start with my first; the church."

          With that, Jung untangled the pottered piece, lifting it up with awe and reverence. "Isn't the bell tower just... beautiful?"

          How is it that I'm in this position right now? Senator Wilber pondered as she commenced setting her village up, piece by piece, along the large mantle. I should look over the notes of the proposal...

            “You start with the other box.” Jung pointed, her smile on Senator Wilbur again. “I don’t have a particular order after the church. And I’d like to know how you would build a village, if you had to. Oh, the tea…”          

Senator Wilbur considered the dozen legitimate excuses he had for not helping this young intern. Yet, he also considered how his wife had made it clear that she didn't need his help in decorating the house this year. It was how he spent every weekend leading up to session; every Saturday and Sunday planned in glorious succession of the season, accumulating with the rising sun of Christmas morning.

She would’ve had numerous jobs for me. Senator Wilbur took another eye at the lobby and its bluster. Jobs rewarded with hot chocolate.   

          "Do you take sugar?" Jung breezed back from the desk, balancing a gold-rimmed teacup and saucer. "I'm low on cream and need to save it for Mr. Stillman- Uncle Morty, as I know him- would die without it! And I don't recommend cream for Sweet Harvest Pumpkin anyway..." she wrinkled her nose, placing the cup in Senator Wilber's free hand. "I don't know, something about the dairy with the pumpkin doesn't taste right. But you can figure it out.”

            “Um,” Senator Wilbur centered himself, thrown by his sudden thoughts. His wife and decorating… a mental direction he was looking to avoid. He nodded at his cup. “Thank- Thank you very much Miss Pang.”

           “And," Jung twirled to face her second hatbox. "Be EXTREMELY careful when you unpack the ice skaters! I've had to glue their extremities back on four times. But that's only because I could never resist playing with them."

          When was the last time I’ve heard anyone speak like this? Senator Wilbur wondered, holding his thoughts in the present. Plainly, and without a filter?

Senator Wilber had been contributing to state politics since he'd joined his high school debate team. When you were part of the government, you heard it all. Every possible tone, pitch, and demand; T's crossed and I's dotted and opinions? He needed a crowbar to pry them out of people sometimes. He could have over two hundred conversations in a day… and never hear anything beyond a person’s hollow, self-serving surface. Maybe that wasn’t the entirety of the public, but it was the majority.

          "...I had dreams of becoming a figure skater," Jung's mouth was still going. "But then, my brother, Carver, dreamed about inventing the world's first anti-gravity Ferris wheel." She giggled, head tipped back. “The things we imagine as children.”

          As children…Senator Wilber sipped his tea hastily, while he nosed around in the hatbox before him. Yes, as children everything was easier; not that he was going to think about that now. "And... what does your brother do now?"

          "Wine manufacturing!" Jung stated with pride. "Moved to a vineyard in Greece last year. Mom suggested that we visit him for Christmas and New Year's, but Dad and I shut her down quick. I mean, what is a Christmas without snow?"

          "An undignified autumn I suppose." Senator Wilber looked out the windows, where frigid air hung over shoveled mounds of pillowy snow. A heavenly sight, but a nightmare to drive through. Still, it was something peaceful to look at. Was that what his wife had been gazing out at last night? When she was crying?

          Why was he thinking about these things?!? It had been a bumpy year for him, his wife, and his children… but he was moving through it. Theywere moving through it. The senator straightened, procuring a smiling snowman from his rumpled resting place inside the box. "And you, Jung? Seeking a career in our fine public offices?"

          "Maybe so." Jung shrugged. "I'm interning here until June. There'll be plenty of prayers between now and then." She finished situating an old fashioned gas station along the mantle and faced Senator Wilber, hands on her hips. "Until then, I'm content to lose myself in the Christmas season. And how are you doing?"

          At this probe, Senator Wilber put on his best smile. "Oh, the season is as contagious to me as ever."

          He passed her the brick post office, only to have Jung stare back at him. "That's not what I asked. 'How are you doing?'"

          "I'm... merry." Senator Wilber offered. "It is Christmas, after all. The most festive time of the year."

          Jung smiled her agreement, but it lacked its previous luster. "Yes, it is a time for celebration. But it's also when people can feel real vulnerable, you know?" She glanced back and tenderly eased the Victorian house farther from a snowcapped evergreen, where squirrels clung to the branches. "They remember the past more vividly, I guess. The good and the bad. They'll name what they're thankful for, but sometimes only to bury what they want to forget."

          Her words, soft in each syllable- like minding a baby's head- felt like a slap to Senator Wilber's face. It would be his second slap of the day. His wife had delivered the first one before he'd left for work this morning. Why not? She blamed him for their daughter's suicide.

          No! Senator Wilbur insisted.None of that! She was upset and… she apologized.

            But she still wouldn’t talk to him, wouldn’t decorate the house…

          "Many forget how much hope is represented in Christmas." Jung stepped back from the mantle, eyes glued onto the church.  "Jesus was born, and the whole reason was so He could save us from all of it. You know what I mean?"

          Her smile remained, her eyes... misty? "I praise those that have already allowed His heroic deed into their lives. Then I pray for those that are still navigating through it." She brought her hands together in a single clap. "Praise and pray. Seems to cover everyone, don't you think?”

          Senator Wilber was rooted to the carpet, tea in hand, trying not to shake. He had never considered Christmas in this light before. If he were to glimpse into his past, there were regrets, misguided decisions, and harsh words that linked one unpleasant event to the other. But this year, they had all paled with Rebecca’s death. 

The senator didn’t see how anything could hurt more then having a child’s name on a tombstone before yours. How was hope supposed to shine in light of the empty dinner setting at their holiday table this year?

           "Are you finished with your tea?" Jung jolted Senator Wilber from his struggle to breathe. She took the cup and saucer, noting its remaining contents. "Didn't float your boat, huh? You politicians are addicted to coffee, I'm learning. But have you ever stopped to think that it only adds to your nerves?"

Senator Wilber didn't answer her, not that Jung waited for one as she took the cup back to her desk. He looked back at the village; more specifically the church. "Hope-"

          He couldn't finish the word. Even as it came to rest in his mind; where he knew it would be for the rest of the day.

~To Be Continued~

Rest Now

God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.

My FAVORITE carol of Christmas. There are rumors of its lyrics floating around the church since the 15th century; the actual author remains an unknown. Official publication wasn't until 1833 by William B. Sandy. Ten years later, it would appear in Dickens' famous A Christmas Carol.

Why is this my favorite carol? Because of the emphasis that it carries, both in its title and its chorus.

We emphasize a lot at Christmas. Countdowns, store sales, gift wrappings and exchanges. Cookie baking and cards (YES, people still write those!), and any number of parties, filled with people we haven't seen since last December. We try to take it all in, physically, emotionally... yes, even spiritually. The message of Christmas, the meaning poured into every encounter, every snowfall... It can be overwhelming. I've felt it in my rush to write my blog posts, eager to inject them through the wireless web of the world. In the race to get that perfect gift for all the friends I cherish, all the family members I love, and whoever else pops into mind. Well, when I feel such a rush overtaking my sense of the season, I remember this carol; how it calls people to do that which they think of last... REST.

Before Christmas, before Jesus, there was no hope for us; sin was a chasm that separated us from God. There was a debt to pay for our sins and it was massive. People needed to be on their toes in order to pay off their debt and breach the chasm. The promise of Jesus' birth and death is mentioned throughout the Old Testament and belief in that promise was evidenced through many prophets' faith. Seeking atonement for their sins was how they lived out their belief that they needed a Savior and forgiveness from their sins. 

As such, sacrifices had to be made; animals chosen and taken to the temple. This needed to be done for every sin, every time. How many times in a week? In a day? Think about how many of the Ten Commandments you break in an hour... how did anyone find the time to make that much atonement?!?

After Christmas, after Jesus' life, death, and gracious resurrection, all that necessity stopped. It wasn't needed anymore because Jesus was offering His blood as the atonement. 'To save us all from Satan's power, when we have gone astray.'

With that, hope came rushing in, chasing away the anxious requirements and leaving rest in its place. As the carol cries out; 'Tidings of comfort and joy... comfort and joy.' For anyone who asks Jesus into their heart, the chasm doesn't pose a threat to their eternal life anymore. There's a bridge! A way across! A way to be united with God forever.!

With that in mind, rest this Christmas... 'let nothing you dismay. Remember Christ our Savior, was born on Christmas Day.' 

Rest.

Rest.

Rest.

'My soul glorifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, 

for he has been mindful of the humble state of his servant... 

He has helped his servant Israel, remembering to be merciful 

to Abraham and his descendants forever, just as he promised our ancestors.'

~Luke 1:46-47; 54-55 (Mary's Song)~ 

Holly, Ivy, and Easter

Why are these fauna the focus of this 18th century English carol? Evergreen plants have been attached to Christmas decor since Roman times- sometimes pagan, sometimes Christian. But why pull on that imagery?

That's something only the author can answer; and since the carol showed up anonymously on a broadside (a one page pamphlet) in 1710, that's something of a dead horse. But the lyrics do a lot of telling. Four of its verses list reasons that Jesus was born into the world... each through a link to the evergreen plants.

The holly blossom as white as a lily flower... white as in the purity of Jesus and his life.
The holly berry, as red as blood... the blood Jesus shed for our sins.
The holly prickle, as sharp as any thorn.... the crown of thorns that Jesus wore up to Golgotha.

These parallels between the beginning of Jesus' life and His endgame. None of us know how we're going to die, only that it's going to happen someday. Jesus knew though; God knew how painful His Son's last days on earth were going to be. Even with His resurrection, there would be tears and sadness, and God would watch His Son die. He bore this knowledge from the moment Mary conceived of the Holy Spirit.

Still, Jesus' birth was celebrated; it was a jubilee among the angels as the Prince of Peace entered the world! Why else are there so many Christmas songs that ring out over the season? Because for the first time, there was hope... hope for a bridge to penetrate our separation from God. And Jesus willingly came to earth to be that bridge.

The Holly and the Ivy carol reminds me that Christmas and Easter are linked in their joy. The only difference is, that Christmas is where the joy started!

'For to us a Child is born, to us a Son is given...

and he will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, 

Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace. 

Of the increase of his government and peace, 

there will be no end.'

~Isaiah 9:6-7~

Merry Christmas!

You Heard It Here!

When I was analyzing 'It Came Upon a Midnight Clear', I talked about the atmosphere on the night of Jesus' birth. Today, while reading 'Angels We Have Heard On High',  I found myself thinking on that night again. Particularly the line 'sweetly singin' over the plains... and the mountains in reply... echo back their joyous strains.'

The song itself is self-explanatory, displaying the host of angels that appeared to the shepherds that night. But I got curious and over-analytical as usual. There are many mountain ranges in the country of Israel and to look at a map, it's almost like they create a bowl around the Dead Sea, which Bethlehem is only nineteen miles from. In fact, they almost create the image of a great concert hall. Like the Symphony Hall in Boston, the Hungarian State Opera in Budapest, or the Opera House in Sydney, Australia. Thank about when you were inside a concert hall and that place filled with sound. Couldn't you feel the notes pounding inside you, vibrating the walls with their emotion?

Now picture that, only times twelve! That's what I hear when I think about the angels singing out that night. Their voices shouting so far and so wide that mountains- entire mountains!- answer back because they want the whole world to hear about Jesus' birth. That's what the song comes back to in every verse... the birth of the Savior. The reason for that joy, the reason for the jubilee... the reason for the season!

And the angels were the first to tell people about it. They must have been so excited and breathless, outright bursting with the emotion of the moment. Is that what you feel when you find yourself telling others about Jesus? No better time to start then now!

Merry Christmas!!