How quickly Christmas arrived this year. It didn't sneak up on me; my eyes were wide open as the days flew by throughout the year. Anticipated events- births, weddings, vacations, milestones- all came and went. And so during these last few weeks, my world became a whirlwind of activity as I took part in Christmas programs, parties, dinners, shopping, quality time with friends...all jam-packed into my end-of-year holiday schedule. But it's been a wonderful month. I have been in such a holiday mood and spirit. I can almost compare this feeling of contentment to what I used to feel during the Christmas holidays as a young girl. You know, that feeling that rests just above the gut, right where a good belly laugh starts.
So while Kevin is out getting a haircut, I am sitting here in front of the computer, writing my last words for 2006. In an hour or so, we'll be driving down to Florida to visit family and add more pleasure to my holiday spirit. Kevin and I shared our own little "Christmas" last night. We laughed and hugged and said "Merry Christmas" and exchanged gifts. There was no sense taking our gifts down with us and have to bring them back. I really felt like a little girl. He had hand-wrapped all of my gifts, each corner lovingly folded, each bow attached just so. I am married to the most wonderful man, and not just because he showered me with gifts last night. He paid attention to all the little details, all the conversations we've had in the last year, to my needs and wants and desires, encouraging me in my hobbies and endeavors, and making them as pleasurable and relaxing as they could be. A heart monitor watch to allow me to get the best of my exercise routines, an FM transmitter so I can listen to TV programs when I run on the treadmill at the gym, wicking shirts to wear when I run outside during the winter months, a footbath to soak my achy feet after a long run, massage oil and sugar scrubs for my hands and legs, a bathrobe so soft I can almost melt into it, a kitty calendar to warm my heart while I work. He pampered me, literally, from head to toe. And he took pleasure and happiness in my delight.
I want the memory of last night to spill into my new year with Kevin. My plan is that we show that much delight in each other in the events we create and take part in, unfolding each one and watching each other's reaction with anticipation and joy. Whatever we encounter during the year and for the rest of our lives, let it be an experience based in trust and love. No matter if the experience is good or bad. It was a most magical night for me, the beginning of the end of Christmas 2006.
I wish you delight this Christmas. Whether experienced firsthand, or from watching your children squeal and laugh, or in the form of a "love squeeze" from a family member or a friend - however you experience delight this Christmas, may you find pleasure and joy in giving.
jueves, diciembre 21, 2006
miércoles, diciembre 13, 2006
I just met a girl named Maria...
Maria. That's the name of the sweet lady who cleans the offices at my company. She arrives every day around 4 in the afternoon, parks the yellow trolley at the bottom of the stairs and goes to the office cluster next to mine to get her little cup of black coffee. Then she comes over to my desk to say hello. She's quite the character. And does she take her job seriously! We all want to be on her good side because this 4-foot-ten, sixty-something merry maid can summon the wrath of the cubicle gnomes if we leave clutter behind. Of course, I'm the only one who can understand her rapid-fire ranting. And so she leaves me with special messages for my management. They need to organize the clutter so she can thoroughly clean their desks and remove all the impurities the dust mites leave behind. She even had me make a sign for her, informing desk occupants everywhere that their areas were going to be sterilized the next day. But alas, no one pays attention. And so she carefully removes piles, taking note of how and where they lay so she can return them to their exact spot. And no one is even aware of how she makes the environment purer, healthier, and easier to work in. Except me. I'm her little link to the world she cleans.
When my family and I moved from New Jersey to Florida, we hit the job market jackpot and got a contract to clean two banks after hours. Woo-hoo, I thought I was going to have my evenings family-free to talk on the phone and watch TV. But no, I too was expected to join the family, pick up a mop and a rag, and pay the bills. I thoroughly disliked having to interrupt my evening homework time to empty ashtrays, vacuum, and clean bathrooms. But my parents took a major cut in pay when we moved south and this contract helped offset some of the bills we as new homeowners were now responsible for. Sometimes I wondered what the lives of these bankers and tellers were like. I learned their names and the faces of their children, and had conversations with them. Some were really dirty and left all sorts of grimy matter behind on their desk and floor. I probably learned more about these people in that year than close friends knew about them.
That's why I respect Maria so much. Not only does she make me laugh, but she is also uncannily perceptive about the characters of those whose trashcans she empties. The environment and clutter we leave behind long after we have departed says a lot about who we really are. And I'm not talking about death here. I'm talking about short departures, like when we leave a room. In the space of a few seconds or minutes, when my words and actions probably still linger- what kind of impression do I leave others with after a meeting or a casual conversation by the copier? Is my life and talk one such that would force the cleaning lady to leave me a note asking me to tidy up my act?
Maria likes me. Not just because I talk to her and ask her how she feels or how her children are. Or because I leave my desk tidy and in good form. I don't know why Maria likes me, but I would really like to know. She brings me "arepas de queso" (Columbian quesadillas) every week and I know she enjoys my company. And she wouldn't hesitate to tell me to clean up my act if I should fall into bad habits. Funny, knowing that she comes by every day, forces me to straighten up and be mindful of what I throw in my trashcan.
When my family and I moved from New Jersey to Florida, we hit the job market jackpot and got a contract to clean two banks after hours. Woo-hoo, I thought I was going to have my evenings family-free to talk on the phone and watch TV. But no, I too was expected to join the family, pick up a mop and a rag, and pay the bills. I thoroughly disliked having to interrupt my evening homework time to empty ashtrays, vacuum, and clean bathrooms. But my parents took a major cut in pay when we moved south and this contract helped offset some of the bills we as new homeowners were now responsible for. Sometimes I wondered what the lives of these bankers and tellers were like. I learned their names and the faces of their children, and had conversations with them. Some were really dirty and left all sorts of grimy matter behind on their desk and floor. I probably learned more about these people in that year than close friends knew about them.
That's why I respect Maria so much. Not only does she make me laugh, but she is also uncannily perceptive about the characters of those whose trashcans she empties. The environment and clutter we leave behind long after we have departed says a lot about who we really are. And I'm not talking about death here. I'm talking about short departures, like when we leave a room. In the space of a few seconds or minutes, when my words and actions probably still linger- what kind of impression do I leave others with after a meeting or a casual conversation by the copier? Is my life and talk one such that would force the cleaning lady to leave me a note asking me to tidy up my act?
Maria likes me. Not just because I talk to her and ask her how she feels or how her children are. Or because I leave my desk tidy and in good form. I don't know why Maria likes me, but I would really like to know. She brings me "arepas de queso" (Columbian quesadillas) every week and I know she enjoys my company. And she wouldn't hesitate to tell me to clean up my act if I should fall into bad habits. Funny, knowing that she comes by every day, forces me to straighten up and be mindful of what I throw in my trashcan.
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