Homemade Ornaments, Angels in the Dirt and Loads of Self

THE MORNING AFTER . . .
So last Wednesday was family night at the DP Houses and Jason decided we were all going to get hyped up on caffeine and sugar, hunt down a Christmas tree and drag it back to to our lair. When the fifteen of us descended upon Mojo's coffee shop, the people behind the counter looked a little like they were being punished.

"Aw, man," they said. "Looks like a whole bus just got dropped off." But they took it like champs so maybe they were in the holiday spirit or maybe they felt they deserved a little penance. Anyway, they did a terrific job, slinging coffee, and steaming hot cocoa, "vanilla Chai or spiced" "vanilla Chai or spiced" "vanilla Chai or spiced" they called while generous dollops of whipped cream were being strewn about like it was going out of style. "Everything's better with whipped cream" we all sang together. "Everything's better with whipped cream! LA LA LA LA LA LA LA!!!" we skipped out of the coffee shop. No, not really. Well, all but the singing part . . . I got a little carried away.

But it was a really delightful night complete with an impromptu construction paper art studio which yielded some of the most fascinating and intricate man-made snowflake designs I have ever seen. It was honestly quite mesmerizing . . . like a scene from Merry Christmas Charlie Brown but instead of decorating Snoopy's doghouse it was making tree ornaments by seemingly waving scissors back and forth over the paper in a flurry of disorienting snapping while red and green scraps flew. Then suddenly, voila! a twenty-five point star or a chain of Christian (Ichthys) fish with crosses miraculously suspended in their bellies.

At least that's how it felt to me, a sometimes "artistically challenged" individual who now realizes her creativity was merely stunted at a young age due to fear and perfectionism. Thankfully, the Lord is rescuing me from this and I happily contributed a couple stubby pine trees to the endeavor. Although now that I think of it, a pine tree isn't probably the best ornamentation for a . . . well pine tree. Hmmm.

Speaking of being artistically challenged, though, the other day I saw a piece of dry grass in the dirt that somehow looked to me like a heavenly being in robes with fire or light just radiating out from its head. I really wanted a visual of it so I commission Terry to draw it for me. I show him the piece of grass, bent and out of shape from being crushed in a pocket. I try to explain what it is I'm seeing. He looks at me and he looks at the piece of grass and after a moment he stops my explanations and says "I think I get it." And then he draws this on a whiteboard:



Then Abby holds up Christmas lights for effect and I photograph it. And that, my friends is teamwork. It's my Vision, but Terry gives it form and Abby gives it flare and then I document it and post it on the Internet for you all to experience and enjoy. It may be a lame metaphor for functioning in the Body of Christ but at least it's an example of how cool it is when we all contribute our different gifts to a common vision.
~

And finally, I know what you're thinking. But no, "loads of self" is not a reference to the strangely ironic self-absorption often exhibited during this holiday season. It's another Celiaism, sparked by our drive home together from L.A. after the Thanksgiving weekend. "I feel safe with you driving," she says. (Take that Judy and Keegan ;) "Like, I just feel comfortable that you know what you're doing even though we're lost in the middle of nowhere and you don't have any idea where we are."

For the record, we weren't really "lost." I knew exactly where we were. It just wasn't a route I had ever taken before or that I had planned on taking ever, because we got to talking so intensely that I missed the 101 and drove all the way to Magic Mountain before I realized we were so far north of L.A. Whooops.

Anyway I told Celia the reason she felt so comfortable was probably because I have had plenty of experience being lost because I've driven back and forth across this great country of ours a number of times all by my lonesome self .

"All by your loads of what?" she asked . . .