My grandmother switched to drinking tea somewhere around the year 2000. She was so delighted with the whole process of brewing, steeping, presenting, then sipping. Because of that she developed this beautiful love for tea pots and began to collect them. It wasn’t often, but when a pretty pot crossed her path she snatched it up, displayed it…but, never really used it. No, she had her favorite pot that she drank her daily tea out of, so these other pots on shelves were an acclaimed admiration for the art of tea drinking itself. (My grandparents lived in Japan for a few years in the 1950’s. Tea wasn’t new to them).
I remember one Christmas nearly our entire family was in attendance, which is rare. My grandparents were there and I hadn’t seen them in quite a while. The magic of the day begins as we start ripping up packages left and right. No flow to it, just everyone being handed their gifts and delighting in the surprise. I give my grandmother her gift and sit back. The room is noisy with joy and laughter. My grandmother was the matriarch of our clan, the eye at the top of the pyramid. So, when she shrieked, “Oh, Bobby, look!” everyone in the room stood still. Anytime she raised her voice, we all calmly stopped what we were doing to hear what our dowager had to say.
She pulled out of her gift box a small, white, porcelain tea pot with a very bulbous base and a long fluted spout, all etched with tiny blue flowers. She exclaimed with delight, “It’s an odd shaped tea pot from Gregory!” She held it in her hands, spent quite a while admiring its shape….with a smile. At one point she looked at me in much the same way you recognize that this someone saw you, got you, heard you, understood you.
I sat back and looked at everyone in my family with a grin, thinking to myself, “HA HA! I WIN CHRISTMAS THIS YEAR!” I got our granny not just a gift, but the gift of the year. 🙂
Granny has been dead for about 20 years now and as every year, my mother famously asked what I wanted for Christmas. To make things easy I said, “Just pick something off my amazon wish list.” Then my mother and I began waxing sentimental and I remembered that year I found my grandmother a great tea pot. I mentioned that I no longer drink coffee. Don’t know why, but it doesn’t fit my palate anymore. So, I’ve also switched to tea and drink quite a lot of it. My favorite is at the end of the evening, just before bed having a cup of Bigelow’s Constant Comment with honey, lemon, and just a splash of Southern Comfort. My own little end of day toddy.
I then giggled and said to my mother, “Funny. I suddenly feel the desire to find pretty tea pots that cross my path….”
My mother was sweet and sincere grabbing a few things off my wish list, but then this appeared in the mail. My granny’s hand was on my shoulder as I pulled it out of the box. There are so many things that these hands do that recall my grandmother. She never taught me to knit, to crochet, to sew, or how to drink tea. These things came natural to me because her spirit and love of artistry runs through my fingers. The minute I pulled the tea pot out of the box I exclaimed, “Oh, Phillip! It’s a tea pot from my mother!!!”
And my mother can rest assured as she sits back, that she won Christmas this year 🙂 Love you mom !
And the monks replied, “We accept them. We love them. Thanks be to God.” And suddenly, a roar of applause from their new brothers. You could feel that wave of love wash over everyone. No severity, only brevity. Quick and sudden. This is the first step in being a monk: accepting love before you can give it. You cannot give love to others if you won’t allow yourself to be loved first. 
“Could everything just slow down for a minute? I mean, come on! These last 50 years have just flown by! And I’m terrified! Yes, I will admit that I am positively terrified….The show is almost over, isn’t it, sweetheart? At some point the show has to end….and I’m terrified of that.”
Then, with suspicion, he reaches for the Funko. He cracks open window number one and pulls out a red wrapped little treasure. Ha! He’s so anxious he opens it with his teeth! 
Growing old….as I hopefully should.
This one homeless man I saw walk by (shopping cart and all) stopped, perused my books and picked up one about the Reformation. I sat here laughing. “Wait! You don’t want The Confessions of a Shopaholic???” No. He picked up the book about the Reformation. So, I took notice of him whenever he walked by.
Gluhwein has always been one of my best memories of living in Germany. Ski slopes, snow, chilly air. With a sunburned face I’d sip on that warm, beautiful wine all day. Gluhwein reminds me of winter. (Excuse me.) It reminds of me of GOOD winters.
We’re actually looking forward to it, for another of our traditions is watching disaster films on Thanksgiving. We love good CGI films and there is nothing better than watching a movie about a giant earthquake, where thousands of people are plunged into a crevice, structures collapse, and heroes die….only so you can sit back and go, “Whew! Thankful that ain’t me! Pass me some more chili. OH! And pause the movie, I have to pee.”
What I find beautiful in these penned cards is that these words are first intended for me. You get to read them, but they are distinctly messages for me to write, then read….then hopefully understand.
I guess not. I could have written (I did, you just never saw it). I could have been knitting teddy bears (after all, Christmas is coming). I could have, might have, but didn’t feel like doing that. My heart wanted nothing more than to spend the time with socks and friends that I never get to see, or have never even met in person. But, this way I could spend time with them as the yarn swirled through my fingers like wool eddies, little glimpses of a friend’s spirit just over my shoulder. I spent time with each of these people individually, never having two socks the same (for none of us are), and switching up colors from patterns that had become too routine, and had no more excitement….I know how this sock is going to end. But, not these socks! No! Just past finishing the cuff I’d scrummage through my stash and look for a different sock pattern, blended them and let them take their own unique designs.
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