SANTA'S WORKSHOP IS OPEN

Beads, baubles,threads, stitches, toys, all stacked around the corners of my sewing room. Outside my window, the rain splatters on the tarp covering the wood.

So many of us practice rituals; we do what we've always done because it's worked for years. I am doing what I've always done, and it's sooo silly. Always, in early November, I begin to think about Christmas. I begin to list each child, what I want to get for them, etc. At some point, I lay pieces of paper with each child's name on the floor in the hallway and stack the presents for that child and his/her family on the paper. (See the picture below.) I am always careful, as was my mother before me, to make sure that all of the gifts are equal in value. Hence, Santa's Workshop is open for each year, and I am busy making or purchasing gifts. In the early years, I had to do the making, purchasing, wrapping in the wee hours of the morning or late hours of the evening, hiding gifts in various and sundry places as I worked. What's so silly about my current ritual is that I am still getting up at 3am to work on gifts and working late into the evening, and I'm RETIRED!! I have several days a week that are unemcumbered--I don't have to squirrel away in my cozy little sewing room at all hours. It's the anticipation!! The thrill of working on a gift that is for someone I love!! The secrecy of it all!

On my mind also is the companionship and memories of old friends. Melverda Lamaroux passed away a week ago; so many memories of Melverda crowded my mind when I heard of her passing. I heard the news while I was tying a quilt with one of my oldest friends. We had chatted and shared thoughts on everything from sewing to retirement to our children. We didn't need to be anyone other than ourselves. We've nothing to hide from each other nor any need to put on airs. Just laughter and sympathy to share.

Another ritual, it seems, is that usually some major something or other decides that our life has been way too smooth and comfortable, so it goes on the fritz or just plain dies. One year it was our oven which fizzled and died a week before Thanksgiving. Another year it was a very sick child, who chose Halloween night, to spike a fever and proceed to become deathly ill. This year it is our car!! For a couple of days now, when the car idles, the heat falls below zero. As our mechanic says, he's eliminated the "little" stuff, so it must be the big stuff. Ugh.

Our mission time has settled into another ritual. Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays are spent in Portland. We're beginning to know our way around Portland, and a few waitresses know what we're going to order before we do. We haul an amazing amount of stuff around in our trunk--overhead projector, small tv, ice chest, plastic bucket for refreshments, etc. We've taken to wrapping ourselves in blankets, parking in a far corner of the church parking lot, and taking a short snooze before our evening classes. We're becoming acquainted with our students and earning their trust. Tuesday evening, we spent the good part of an hour talking with a girl who thinks that her world has stopped revolving because her boyfriend has dropped her for another girl. More than the mere breakup, she's questioning the role of inspiration and personal revelation in her life because she felt that she had received an affirmation that he was the right guy. It's so hard sometimes to see their hearts broken, especially when you know a breakup when she's only nineteen, is just a little blip. Tom told a story in one of our classes which has brought lots of trust, since most of our Tongan guys are diehard athletes, and reaction. He explained his irrational behavior when his favorite sports team is losing; he's angry and despondent over a mere game. Now, though he can tune into BYU Classics, a show which broadcasts only games which BYU has won. He explained that now he can just sit back and relax because he knows the outcome of the game. He then used the analogy that God is the same way--He knows the outcome of the game.

Ritualistic or not--it 'tis what it 'tis and brings comfort on these chilly days! Love, Mom