Forcing the Christmas Spirit

I thought my schedule would slow down by now.

The hay is stacked.

The calves and lambs are weaned.

The days are short.

So is the year.

But my list of things to accomplish right after Thanksgiving is long and, suddenly, it’s not right after Thanksgiving anymore.

Christmas is coming.

Soon.

A friend joined my daughter, Abby, and me to find a tree in the mountains.

We drove an hour, tromped through the chilly snow for 30 minutes, sawed a tree and drove home, enjoying the conversations that come with windshield time, but not breathing the mountain air nearly long enough.

I plopped the tree against a bush in the yard and wondered when I would find time to put it up in the house.

That was when I realized that gifts should be mailed. Pronto.

The U.S. post office deliberately slows service and packages tend to get lost in the scramble of late December.

My packages are not elaborate, but I want the people I love to know that on Christmas, not in April.

I better wrap and box them and find addresses.

I rise earlier and go to bed later.

Then I realize, holy moly, it’s time to plan the free community Christmas dinner again.

The people who come to the Conrad community center at 2 p.m. on December 25 will expect ham, turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, rolls, Jello and green bean casserole ready and waiting.

And the pies probably should be sliced.

I should go to the grocery for supplies soon.

That requires a list.

Another list, actually.

Without a list, I would probably forget to brush my teeth.

Other people like to contribute, too, so I better organize the plan with my friends who always make this happen.

They want their lists, too.

Beef and lamb orders keep coming.

I like filling beef and lamb orders and I don’t like to disappoint paying customers.

I get up a little earlier and go to bed a little later.

I find myself waving at Abby as we pass, missing her as we go our separate ways instead of spending time together.

Meetings in town mean I do chores in the dark.

I wonder whether I’m missing a signal from one of my animals that they need more care.

I’m beginning to feel a little frantic.

Maybe a lot frantic.

I’m absolutely not feeling the peace of Christmas.

I plan a Catch-Up Day.

That will relieve my anxiety.

A head cold saps my energy. Not much gets caught up on Catch Up Day.

But congestion and sniffles force me to pause.

I remember my priorities:

Keep Abby safe.

Take care of the animals.

Don’t get hurt.

All I need to do is stop for a moment.

Set the whirling chaos inside my head to the side.

Look up.

Just for a moment.

See the stars.

Feel the wind.

Listen to the sounds of my world.

Look into the eye of a horse.

Watch the sun come up.

Admire the colors of the prairie.

Pet the dogs, even the dog who needs to find a new home without chickens or sheep.

Maybe especially that dog.

Remember that everything and everyone are connected.

That is the entire point of Christmas.

Celebrate kindness.

Because I receive so much more than I give.

Abby and I haul our tree inside and string some lights.

Then, together, we hang colored lights from the eaves outside.

I feel the peace of Christmas.