This picture says perhaps more than a 1000 words....When you view it, you are viewing a very intimate place in my life and in the history of my life......More than just a sweet pup curled up under the Christmas Tree on a cloudy December morning.....To understand it, in part, you must look closer....Much closer....And in doing so, you might just see a bit deep into my heart. So, if you are willing to look, I will start you off with a few guided glimpses......
The nativity scene you see on the table is our First Nativity, started 44 years ago when we were newly married, pieces added (and some, beyond repair, taken away) thru the years.....I have over 40 Nativity scenes thruout my house at Christmas. Several from foreign countries, including Israel and Mexico and Switzerland; several whimsical (a "dog" nativity, a "s'mores" nativity, a "snowman" nativity...); many that were gifts from friends and family and preschoolers. I love decorating for Christmas with nativity scenes. I think my Mom endeared me to them. Tho she had only one, it was the centerpiece of Christmas in her home.
When I was a child, Santa Claus scared the Dickens (pun intended) out of me......He "knew" things about me that I was embarrassed to reveal....He knew that I sucked my thumb, even tho I tried, in vain, to stop......And he informed me (via letters from the North Pole) that, should I continue to suck my thumb, I would not receive a Bride Doll for Christmas. It wasn't so much the thought of not getting Bride-y that broke my heart. It was the fact that I had this "character flaw" of seeking comfort in such a babyish manner......If I couldn't stop the thumbsucking, how in the World would I be able to be a grownup someday?
And, to top it off, this stranger, whom I barely knew, was aware of my shortcoming.....
When I had my own home, I did not celebrate Santa....I wanted no part of him and his voyeurism and wiretapping...
Until I met Bruce Kotowitch.....
When I was 50 years old.
And now I Believe...... If ever there was a Santa, it is Bruce....When it is not the Christmas Season, Bruce is Professor of Vocal Music at Lorus University in Dubuque Iowa. His powerful baritone voice resonates in his speech; his body towers over most of us; his face says "yes" in its very demeanor. He is one of the kindest, most caring and pleasant people I know. To be in the same room with him is truly food for your soul. I think that Bruce embodies the type of person that Santa Claus tries to bring forth. And he overlooks my shortcomings and loves me anyway....
Bruce considers his role as Santa each December one of foremost importance and pays meticulous attention to detail.
His Santa suit is authentic right down to his red one-piece long underwear. The trousers were tailored to fit a size 60 waist. His belt buckles (he has several) were custom made of finest brass from artisans in eastern Tennessee. His sleigh bells, beautifully tuned, are made by the same metallurgists who created the bells for the Anheuser Busch Clydesdales. Bruce wears white eyelashes. And his beard and mustache are real human hair.
Bruce makes sure that he is well-educated in the realm of toys and most-requested items that children ask for each year. I do not believe that I have ever seen any child afraid or even Suspicious of Bruce-as-Santa. A bit awed, certainly.....overwhelmed by the bigness of body and spirit.....but never afraid.
When you see him, you, too, will Believe. I believe in all that Christmas is again, and my heart and soul slow down to incorporate its meaning.....Maybe he will come visit your home some year......
Ah.....More about this picture.....The dulcimer hanging on the wall was made by us. By me and husband, Rob. Many years ago, when the children were young, we visited Silver Dollar City in Branson Missouri for a vacation. While there, I was intrigued by the beauty and sound of the dulcimers made by one of the artists. I discovered, much to all our surprise, that I could, indeed, play the instrument, with very little instruction. Perhaps it was some of my Appalachian ancestors harkening in my ears.....For whatever reason, I became almost obsessed with the instrument, and would have stayed at that booth all day, had the children not been tugging at my sleeve.
So, at Rob's encouragement, I ordered a "dulcimer kit" from these folks, and received it in the mail only a couple of days after we returned home. Soon I would have my very own dulcimer and be able to play those mountain tunes as my ancestors had in the hills of Tennessee.
Turns out, instead of buying a couple of pieces of wood shaped like a dulcimer that we just glued together, what we got in the mail was a box of boards!
Boards. Several shapes and sizes. And instructions. I thought about crying. But Dear Rob, as he has so many times in these 43+ years, assured me that, together, he and I could do this. We would make this dulcimer, even though it meant many hours of careful and tedious work.
And so, we began, one night soon after, to make some sense of the dulcimer directions to create one of my dearest treasures.
The Treasure of it, lies not only in its physical beauty, but in the memories it gave us as it came to be....
We would put the children to bed and make tea and sit at our dining room table, working on it--together--one step at a time. The process was ponderous and painstaking and some evenings, imperceptible. I learned to admire Rob's patience. He learned to admire my technological skills. Each night we would finish one more step towards completion, stopping to let the glue dry or wet the boards to curve into the proper shapes.
Finally, it was time to make the sound holes. I was so eager to hear it sound, that I was content to cut simple circles into the body of the instrument. But Rob asked me what I Really wanted, if I wasn't in such a hurry. I admitted that I loved the hummingbirds carved into one I saw in a picture book......He carved with his pocketknife, two perfect hummingbirds each facing the fret, with leaves and vines woodburned beside them. There is no other dulcimer as fine as this one we made together.
Keep looking at this picture, and you will see the quilts...on the floor, on the wall, on the chairs.....All made by me, at one time or another. A comfort in many ways, for the body, for the eye....for the pup. I truly believe that quilts that have been sewn by loved ones have pieces of that person stitched into their core. And the magic of it is that someone took Time out of their life just to bring this art into existence for its recipient. Never underestimate the power of even the simplest of quilts.
The Christmas Tree doesn't reveal all its beauty in this picture. It's ornamentation is a culmination of 44 Christmases, having begun in a tiny apartment in South Jersey, boxed and moved to several states and endured babies and toddlers and clumsy adolescents. Some of the ornaments are exquisite. Made by my mother in times gone by. Some are little handprints, little footprints, old pinecones, school pictures, vacation souvenirs, gifts from friends long passed on, plastic trumpets, baby angels, icicles, strands of old glass beads.....And then, there's the Star.
You should be able to see a bit of the Star in this picture. It, too is 44 years old. Made by two kids who strung popcorn and wrapped glue-y yarn around balloons and pulled ribbons thru pinecones that first Christmas they were married. The star was carefully cut out of a cardboard box, then covered with aluminum foil. A holder was fashioned on the back of it to loop over the top branch of the tree. We signed it, and dated it, and said we would Always use this star to put on top of each tree, each year.....
Some years I am tempted to purchase a fancy, lighted-up star to grace our tree, but I always remember those two young folks who made Christmas together, even when their budget would not allow the tinsel and shiny decorations. And we smile and weep a bit, and Rob stands on a chair and puts the cardboardandfoil Star on.....one more year.......
Of course, the picture would probably not have held your interest were it not for that sableandsnow Collie puppy resting at the base of the tree. He is 8 months old. Our 4th Collie to live with us, with huge shoes to fill......His name is Tartanside A Spirit of Courage, and we call him Curtis. His name is inspired by the Bible verse from 2Timothy 1:7 "God has not given us a spirit of fear, but a spirit of power and of courage."
He is, as Anice Terhune said of Lad, the Dearest Dog! And I believe that he, too, in the years to come, will make his place in the hearts of many more than just mine. For Collies were meant to be shared in this world. They were bred to love and teach wisdom and bring great joy. I guess you could say that Collies and Christmas bring the same Message. Hopefully, we can continue to spread that Word, and, in everything we do and say, we can keep Christmas all year long.
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