It is beautiful. It's Kali's roommates family. The Thompson's. They're a beautiful family. This is for sure.
I stood there in my kitchen last night and got lost into their faces. The four of them.
Their oldest moving along in pre-nursing classes at CSLB, and their baby moving in the same direction at CSUSM. Only their littlest is side by side with our littlest. The hard work in all of their eyes. Determination for a better word. One thing I read on her card in the little year update story part- "and my house stays clean"- so cute.
I reminisced of the picture we took for cards in years past. How they were filled with promises and precious memories of that year.
How it felt so good to be prepared, and ahead of the game.
I also reminded myself, that even though I didn't get ahead of the game in the Christmas card arena.
I am here. Besides most of you are updated by my world of blogesphere. Am I right?
You've witnessed me at my best, and you most certainly watched me at my worst. Plus I leave traces of pictures along the way on my journey. My families journey. Life just how I feel it, and see it.
We are here. And we are lucky.
I have so many friends, and family that have captured some of the best pictures this year. I've witnessed them.
And each time, I think oh man, THAT is a framer. THAT is a Christmas card front page. (shout out to Mindi, and to Carol if you read this you better get on your game with that kissing one in Cabo, and to Kyoko for the perfect family shots by the pier, and especially to my cousins that capture it all, eh em Andrea...)
I've captured a couple of my own that felt good enough.
Yet I didn't get in the game.
And that's okay.
I love to receive cards. I truly do. I love to see pictures of family. Of life. Of silly and of true.
I love to come home after a long day of work and open my mail box to see life. And love.
More than gifts, I love to see happy things.
So last night marked the beginning of the little aching reminders. My reminders because I am a perfectionist that wants to make sure I get my act together, and decorate to the brim, and purchase the list of goods I need to.
But guess what...?
I might not have the chance.
The days will sneak by.
And it's okay.
It's okay to slow down and enjoy the season.
The music. The food. The wine, and the friends.
That standing in long lines for that extra discount for something that won't be that "extra" in years to come isn't worth the time you have in peace.
Enjoy the season. Live for the moment. Stay close to those that hug your heart.
The gathering. The dinners. The moments.
Embrace the card that arrives in the mail. Someone took extra care in putting that together.
Even more, they are alive. And hopefully healthy.
Each and every Christmas time I have fallen into some of my hardest darkest funks. And this year I told myself I can't.
I can't let the evil of greed, and material steal that from me.
The homeless that walk the street due to mental illness. Not always drugs and alcohol.
The unfortunate, especially kids that are laced with circumstance. Not choice.
Enjoy the season friends. Slow down to look at the lights someone hung.
Because on December 26th, the sun will still rise, and it will still set. And if you look around, those that matter will be the anchor that keeps you going.
Even if your back feels like it's breaking from wrap-a-thon.
Look at me- You're not alone.
We all want perfect. We all want acceptance. We all want gifts, to give and receive.
But in the end, it's time here that means the most. Good food, good wine, and good friends and family.
Until we chat again, you better get on your card game. jaykay
Don't forget me. I'm serious. I sit and cherish each card. Even if I don't send you one, will you send me one? lol
And make sure it's perfect. ha.
xoxo
Merry Christmas-
This Mama Lisa
ps. Kali, if you read this. No list this year, k? double ha.
pss. Bill if you read this. Got off the hook from pier pictures in the sand. haha
psss. Kris if your read this. You better get on your game with xmas cards. Come on now. YOU have some good pics this year.
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