It's almost 2am and I'm still awake after being sick and having slept much of the evening. The clock in my brain turned back 6 years ago (wow!) to my freshman year when staying up late to do laundry at 3am (just ask Michelle) was typical. That's when all the machines were guaranteed open! Tonight there's no laundry, but I instead have been shining my kitchen sink. :)
I have such good memories, especially at Christmastime, of staying up until 1 or 2 with those freshman roommates, talking about life, staring at our little tree and so many apartment decorations gathered from all our Layton homes. I remember crying with them and alone on those late nights--because life was good, because life was bad, and because it was Christmas. That was the year I first invented what I call "Christmas hour", where similar to what my mom had done, we could huddle together on our tiny couch and sing a song, read a story, study scriptures and pray, and do silly things that only freshman girls have the enthusiasm to do.
Six years later things aren't much different.
Okay, they're really different, but I think we're all still the same people. I for one, am still sitting here, crying good tears of course, and thinking of those then good friends, now across the U.S. with their own families and friends, and how they are still good friends. Now I am alone--no roommates moved in this year, and Johannesburg Provo-ites who are single seem to dwindle all the time. I was disappointed to think that for the first time, even a Christmas hour or two with Janae, or Victoria Place neighbors or anyone in the hallway at the Glenwood wouldn't continue.
Then I made it continue. It was just me. I read the history of a song, "Angels we Have Heard on High", sang that song, read another history and two storybooks. And then I stared at my little tree and the lights and I remembered. I remembered how much Christmas does to me and for me. I remembered the feelings that so graciously come back every year that prick me to find out all over again who I really am and what life is really about. And it's hard, but I love it. I love the stillness outside and it's the only time of year I'll give in to the darkness. I love all the treats and the parties and the gift shopping and my empty college apartment with lights Boogie and Bailee helped me put up since decorations this year only came from one Layton home and the dollar store.
Once again as President Uchtdorf warned on Sunday, I realized my busy-body self was being resurrected with all the time I find on my hands now, and easily find ways to then lose. I knew that's not who I wanted to be and that there was more to Christmas. And so I reprimanded myself for being up so late and sitting on the couch, like I'd never learned my lesson to get up and make it to my own bed after all, having made time to rest and relax. And I thought again of that freshman year and those friends and those lights. And then I didn't care. For me all of those things were Christmas. And yes I would still need to limit my activities (and expenditures!) and yes I still believe in early to bed and early to rise since a 4:30am job and a night-owl boyfriend helped me see the light. :) But I wasn't ashamed of that 3am laundry, or the 2am tears or the 1am chats or the midnight Christmas hours. I was happy for how all of those had shaped my last 6 years, and made it possible for me to enjoy the same tradition this year, even alone.
At first, Mary and Joseph were alone. And yet through them, the true love of what Christmas is spread to the whole world. My friends and I are spreading to the whole world. Correction: my friends are spreading to the whole world, I am in Provo. :) It's been 2 Christmases ago that I learned that even people in Provo can share with the world. I can even share with myself, becoming (I hope, even slowly) more fit for the kingdom, more used, more blessed by a sense of His care (see Hymns 131).
Thinking on my favorite Christmas song, makes me want to ask for and receive that care even more:
The cattle are lowing; the baby awakes,
But little Lord Jesus no crying he makes.
I love thee, Lord Jesus;
Look down from the sky and stay by my cradle till morning is nigh.
Be near me, Lord Jesus;
I ask thee to stay close by me forever,
and love me, I pray.
Bless all the dear children in thy tender care,
And fit us for heaven to live with thee there.
-Hymns 206
Picture: Crazy-Frankenstein.com
