It’s an odd year for my family. My parents, 88 and 89, have lived rich and full lives, and my husband, children and I have shared holidays large and small with them.
But this year they are confined to rooms in a nursing home.
I found myself
staring at the wall. I'd done two- and three-day retreats, but this was four
days alone in a cottage, and the stretch of time was unnerving. I had to go
outside to get cell phone reception and (horrors!) walk a quarter of a mile if
I wanted to get online. At first the disconnection was deafening.
As the second Sunday
in advent approaches, I find the prophets of the season compelling. To my ears,
their message sounds pretty consistent: "Change the ways of this world."
I decided our family's
Christmas would be simple and spirit-centered. Green to parenting, I
defined spiritual as anything that allowed me a minute to reflect on what, beyond the laundry, mattered.