The Legends of the Mistletoe & the Poinsettia

http://youtu.be/_FvE-z8xV1g [The Holly and the Ivy/Loreena McKennitt]

Where did the ritual of kissing under the mistletoe at Christmas time come from and what's so special about it?   Have you ever wondered about that?

Before there were any Christmas trees, the custom to kiss beneath the mistletoe more than likely originated in pre-Christian Europe, where it was believed that Mistletoe also possessed life bestowing properties and was associated with fertility.  If that wasn't enough praise, mistletoe had a couple of valuable uses such as: it was used as an aphrodisiac and, it was also used as an antidote to poison. Additionally, there is a custom of hanging mistletoe over a doorway to ward off evil spirits from crossing over into your threshold.   It truly seems to be a magical little plant.
It's identified with the winter solstice because of its early ties to Norse mythology.  Ancient Romans also used the plant in its festival of Saturnalia, which is celebrated in mid-December.  In Scandinavia, mistletoe is associated with the pagan goddess Frigga who is married to Odin.  In case you don't know, Odin is the BIG Kahuna of all the Norse Gods.  Back to Frigga, his wife.  She is the Norse goddess of love and the mother of Balder, god of the summer sun.  Within this aspect of the story is where mistletoe's association to Christmas is most likely to have begun as it parallels with certain aspect of the Christian tradition.
The legend goes something like this: One night, Balder had a nightmare in which he foresaw his death. The following day, he told his mother about the his terrible omen.  She became greatly alarmed.  The death of her son didn't have solemn repercusions just for her.   If Balder died, so would life on earth.  Darkness would fill the place that once the earth inhabited.
Immediately, Frigga, who took her son's dream very seriously, went into action to ward off that catastrophe.  She elicited from the elements: fire, water, air, and earth, as well as from all known animal and plant wildlife a vow that no harm would come to Balder because of them.
Unbeknownst to Frigga, her son had one enemy, Loki, the god of evil.  He knew of one plant that Frigga had overlooked in her rush to keep Balder alive and save earth from darkness.  One plant had not given Frigga a vow not to harm Balder. That plant was the mistletoe that grew as a vine on both apple and oak trees. Knowing of Frigga's oversight, Loki made an arrow with a tip wrapped and hewn from the mistletoe.  With malice aforethought, he gave the arrow as a gift to the blind god of winter, Hoder.  Hoder, not knowing of Loki's evil plan, released the arrow without realizing where and who it was aimed at and shot Balder dead.  Just as Frigga feared, the earth was plummeted into darkeness, as all of the earth's creatures wept for her son.
Yet, miraculously, Balder was brought back to life. Frigga overcome with joy, wept happy tears which fell on the mistletoe, magically creating its characteristic white berries.  From that day foreward, Frigga decreed that mistletoe would no longer be seen as anything but a symbol of love and peace and decreed that all gods and humans should kiss beneath its boughs to commemorate her son's return.
This Norse lore celebrates love and rebirth over death and destruction.  It's easy to see how this legend thus made its way into European Christianity.  The lore of Balder's rebirth is akin to the Christmas celebration of the world's renewal and emergence into "light" with the birth of the Christ Child.  Thus is the legend of the mistletoe.

*Compiled from information gathered from the Farmer's Almanac and other sources.

Legend of the Poinsettia

There are many stories about the legend of the Poinsettia, but the following one is what I’ve always been told. I share it now with you:
　
This particular Christmas story is about a young girl named Maria, who lived on a family farm in a small village in Mexico. The family was very poor. Within the village, it was a practiced custom to exalt the meaning of the Christmas season as the villagers celebrated the birth of Jesus Christ. The piazza in front of the church and the church itself was festively decorated for the event. Everyone took part.  Even children made gifts to offer to the Baby Jesus on Christmas Eve.
Legend has it that Maria wanted to make a very special gift for the Christ Child. She tried to weave a colorful blanket on a loom, but she was just a young girl, not an experienced enough crafter.  She wasn't able to create her gift. The yarns became entangled, and she wasn't able to finish the blanket. It made Maria sad. She had wanted to march in the procession with the other village children on Christmas Eve, but she didn’t have a gift to give to Jesus. So, she remained on the sidelines and watched.
When Christmas Eve finally came, the villagers gathered in the piazza.  Some whispered that they had heard angels singing as candles were lit and the processional from the piazza into the church began. Joyful music played as beautiful singing filled the air.
Maria was not among the procession. The devastated young girl stood in the shadows of the church, as she watched the townspeople making their joyful noise unto the Lord.  Tears came as she realized that she had nothing to present to Jesus.
"I tried," she whispered "I really tried to make something beautiful, but I ruined it and have nothing to give the Savior."
Suddenly, Maria heard a voice. She looked up and saw a bright star in the sky. It was directly above the church.  Its light shown brightly over the entire church.
"Child," a voice said to her. "Your heart is pure; your love is pure. The baby Jesus will love whatever you give. Love is what makes every gift have meaning.  It is what makes your gift special – because it came from your heart."
Upon hearing that, Maria stepped out from among the shadows, considering this thought. Nearby she noticed tall green weeds growing beside the church. She rushed over and quickly filled her arms with the weeds. She wrapped them in her cape, then ran to the church.
When she arrived, the candles were lit-shining brightly, as the children began singing songs of praise and joy - walking down the aisle carrying their special gifts to give to the baby Jesus.
The priest placed the figure of the baby Jesus in the manger, with the childrens' gifts surrounding them.
Maria felt out of place and a little afraid when she saw everyone dressed in beautiful clothes. Her clothes were dirty and tattered. She tried to slip behind one of the pillars, but the priest saw her and called to her.
"Maria, come! Bring up your gift."
Maria was hesitant. She didn’t know what to do? She wanted to run away. She didn’t think her gift was good enough, no matter how much love she’d offered along with it.
The father saw her hesitation. "Maria, come up here and see the baby Jesus," he gently coaxed. "There is room for one more gift."
Maria walked down the aisle, cradling her cape.
"What do you think Maria is carrying beneath her cloak?" the villagers whispered.
The priest stepped down from the altar and took Maria’s hand, leading her to the Christmas creche. Maria bowed her head in prayer then opened her cape and laid the weeds at the foot of the Baby Jesus.
Voices gasped in astonishment. "Look at those beautiful flowers!" they exclaimed.  "Where did she find such a glorious gift?"
Startled by the commotion, Maria opened her eyes. She too was surprised. At the end of each weed was a beautiful bright, red flower in the shape of a star.
Outside, the weeds where her hands had touched, that spread all around the church, had become the same beautiful red flowers.
Maria’s love for the Baby Jesus had created a miracle, and proven that all things, when given and offered with love and a pure heart, are bright and beautiful...

http://youtu.be/brmRUlKbF7g [What Child is This/Josh Groban]:

The Twelve Days of Christmas - Legend~Lore

　
　


Have you ever heard a Christmas carol and wondered "what in the heck is THAT song is all about?" Or "what on earth does THIS have to do with Christmas?" Well, I’ve always thought that about the song The 12 Days of Christmas and wondered just what those things we were singing about actually meant! It’s never made sense to me why Lords were Leaping, Maids were a Milking, or what calling birds had to do with anything? Likewise, I didn’t understand why all the birds were listed in this song to begin with. What did they have to do with Christmas? It was a mystery. Then, several years ago, I found out from a friend of mine who was studying to be a Catholic Priest what this song truly means. He explained that beginning in the 16^th Century and going until well into the 19^th Century, practitioners of the Roman Catholic faith in England were not permitted to practice said faith openly because its beliefs conflicted with the teachings of the church of England. During that period of persecution someone wrote this carol as a catechism song for young Catholics to learn about the faith and for practicing Catholics to celebrate it.

It has been said that the song had dual meanings – one is the surface meaning; the other is a hidden meaning known years ago only to/by the members of the church. Each verse in the carol has phraseology which is code in word~meaning for an aspect of their religious faith, which they could remember through symbolism presented in the song. The breakdown is as follows:

* The partridge in a pear tree represents Jesus Christ.

* Two turtle doves were for the two books of the Bible: the Old and New Testaments

* Three French hens are for faith, hope and love.

* The four calling birds represented the four gospels: Matthew, Mark, Luke & John.

* The five golden rings recalled the Torah's Law, the first five books of the Old Testament: Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers & Deuteronomy.

* The six geese a-laying stood for the number of days it took God to create the world.

* Seven swans a-swimming represented the seven gifts of the Holy Spirit - Prophesy, Serving, Teaching, Exhortation, Contribution, Leadership, and Mercy.

* The eight maids a-milking stood for the eight beatitudes.

* Nine ladies dancing were symbolic of the nine fruits of the Holy Spirit – Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self Control.

* The ten lords a-leaping signify the ten commandments.

* The eleven pipers piping embodied the eleven faithful disciples.

* The twelve drummers drumming symbolized the twelve points of belief in the Apostles' Creed.

There is much more history that surrounds this song, but these are the basic facts. If you are so inclined to continue research into it, please post your additional findings. The song, however, takes on an entirely different meaning for me now, knowing the secret language of The Twelve Days of Christmas. I’ve included the song here for your enjoyment! Blessings!

http://youtu.be/gtjsOHrV3R0 [The 12 Days of Christmas/Roger Whittaker]

Christmas Tea & The Leader of the Band...

The Jefferson Hotel

December 16, 2007

Photo by Paul Hughes

Friends at Christmas Tea

The Jefferson Hotel/December 16, 2007

Daniel Grayling Fogelberg

August 13, 1951-December 16, 2007

Gifts of time and love are surely the basic ingredients of a truly merry Christmas. ~Peg Bracken
　
http://youtu.be/Ulk49B0Mdl0 [What Child Is This/Dan Fogelberg]

Every year, my husband and I go to The Jefferson Hotel at the holiday season. Sometimes, we have lunch. Other times, we meet friends and have Christmas tea. It is an experience! It is magnificent to see the decorations and the tree–that gorgeous tree that goes from floor to ceiling, dead center in front of the Gone With the Wind staircase. I highly recommend if you’re anywhere in the Richmond area at the holidays, to make this one of your stops. It is a sight to behold.
Sunday, December 16, 2007, my husband and I met a group of our friends at the Jefferson for Christmas tea. We were seated in a private alcove that overlooked that glorious tree. It was a spectacular sight! We "oohed" and "ahhed" as we savored a feast of finger sandwiches, mini ham biscuits, and sweet treats spread out before us on a tiered stand, with a backdrop of a delicious selection of teas to choose from. There is nothing better at the holidays than gathering with friends - taking time to remember the season and one another - taking time to enjoy each other’s company and laughing over stories. In our case, it was doll collecting, [I brought my husband along for the ride-he enjoys my Doll*Friends] but we didn’t just speak of dolls. We talked about jobs, life, children, aging parents, vacations...the doll collecting was the common denominator which brought us together. The love and laughter are what has bound us. I love these friends. They are a unique bunch, because it doesn’t matter if we’re 30, 40 or 50+ years, we maintain the wonder-the childlike wonder of this season.
After about three and a half hours of fun and fellowship, we knew it was time to relinquish our seats and head home, wrapped in the warmth of the memories which we had just created.
On the drive home, our radio station, which begins playing holiday songs non-stop from Thanksgiving week through Christmas day, played a song that always makes me a little melancholy, but I love nonetheless. However, at the end of the song’s playing, the DJ came on and said that Same Auld Lang Syne has been played in memory of Dan Fogelberg who had lost his battle with cancer earlier that day.
The news made me cry.
I grabbed Tom’s arm and gasped, "Oh, NO!"
Dan Fogelberg wasn’t just any entertainer or singer for me. I always called him my birthday buddy, because that was a special connection I shared with him. I always knew on my birthday, that Entertainment Tonight would list Dan Fogelberg as having a birthday on that day too. [We also shared the day with Alfred Hitchcock] Dan, had been battling cancer for a few years, but I didn’t know it had taken a turn. I knew he had stopped touring, but I thought it was more to gather his strength and spend time with family and friends. So, it was surprising and saddening to realize that the world had lost him. It put a somber note on an otherwise silly-special day. Still, when I went to bed that night, I thanked God for all-in-all a wonderful day. I thanked him for allowing me to create a beautiful memory that day, and I asked for Dan’s eternal peace.
Memories are the greatest gifts you can give yourself because they last a lifetime. They never go out of style. They don’t get stale or musty. You are never too old, too large or too small to savor them. We had created a special memory that day, and even though it was tinged with sorrow, it still has not lost it’s glow and warmth that fills my heart when I remember that day spent with friends – laughing and talking as we shared delicious food and fellowship together. Within the warmth of that glow, I, also, remember Dan and look for the blessing that I associate with his name: we were gifted to have such a wonderful entertainer for 56 years. I’m grateful for that, and that’s what I celebrate today, four years later...
Several weeks ago, I got the Christmas newsletter from The Jefferson Hotel. It made me smile. It made me remember all the teas and lunches and a wonderful brunch that we’ve had there the last few years. I recalled the meals I’ve shared with my husband, my mother, the brunch I shared with my sister-in-law and her significant other, and the glorious teas that I’ve shared with friends. And, I remember that one very special Sunday afternoon, when a group of friends and I shared tea on the day when Dan Fogelberg became the leader of the band in heaven. No one can ever say that God doesn’t have exquisite taste!
Special times–special memories–special friends– on the Gratitude Scale, December 16 gets a 10.
I’ve attached some photographs for your enjoyment and The Jefferson Hotel’s famous eggnog recipe. We’re going over next week for our annual holiday treat there. I’ll let you know how it goes, but I can tell you this much right now: it’s going to be magical. My challenge to you today is to find something to do that provides just that sensation for you: magical.
Have a blessed day! There is much for which to give thanks.

Eggnog Recipe from The Jefferson Hotel:
3 whole eggs
1 cup of heavy cream
1 QT of whole milk
1 ½ cups of bourbon or Rum *My tip at the end
3/4 cup of sugar
Fresh Nutmeg or Cinnamon for taste
* A capful of vanilla [my addition]

~Separate the eggs into two medium bowls; whisk ½ the sugar with the yolks until thick.
~Whisk the egg whites until medium peaks form the fold in the remaining sugar.
~In a large bowl, whip the heavy cream to medium peaks; fold in egg white’s mixture then yolk mixture.
~Add Liquor {Here’s my tip: do a southern blended version: ½ cup bourbon; ½ cup brandy; ½ cup rum or any combination thereof to make 1 ½ cups]; then add whole milk until desired thickness and the vanilla. Chill thoroughly for several hours. Transfer into a beautiful punch bowl and grate with nutmeg, cinnamon or a little of both. Add a dollop of whipped cream in the center of each cup. Enjoy!

http://youtu.be/OYIWeow6W14 [Same Auld Lang Syne/Dan Fogelberg]

Christmas Pie

In the late 80's, after my parents moved to Maryland, my family began to make yearly visits to Virginia for the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays. Travel had become difficult for my grandparents, so we made the trip down to be together at the holiday. The drive from our home to theirs was only about 2 ½ hours [in good traffic].
On Christmas morning, we’d leave the house about 10 a.m. to get to Virginia at lunchtime. We had a typical-traditional family gathering, after which the women would clean the kitchen [several years into this practice, we wised up and began eating on paper plates], then we’d open Christmas presents and visit a bit, before we’d get back into the car and drive home. It made for a long day – worth the effort but tiring nonetheless.
We didn’t just drive down to have lunch. We took things down to add to the food table. My contribution in 1989 was the Christmas pie, also called a Japanese Fruit Pie. For anyone who has never had it, Christmas pie has the consistency of a pecan pie with added goodies: coconut and golden raisins. One year, I added a cup of chocolate chip morsels. It’s a dessert that doesn’t require a huge slice. A little of this sweet treat goes a LONG way because it is just that – sweet. My grandmother loved it! I will never forget how much she loved it. She went back for a second sliver. It was a big deal.
"Oh, Dahlin’!" she said in her soft, genteel southern voice. "This is really a good pie!"
High praise from a grade A, blue ribbon, smack your lips good cook like my grandmother.
I remember how much her words meant to me. They brought a little tear to my eyes because, well, whenever you get praise from someone who is a master at something, it means a lot to know that you did something that merited praise.
"Thank you, Nannie."
"I think I’d like to have that recipe," she said.
It was a WOW moment for me – MY grandmother asking ME for a recipe. It was a first.
I wrote it out when we got home that night and put it in the mail to her the following day. It gave me a special thrill when she put that recipe in her churches cookbook one year. It let me know just how good she truly thought that pie was, because a woman doesn’t put a recipe in her churches cookbook that isn’t exceptional in her book. Trust me on that.
It’s is a good pie and easy to make, but it doesn’t taste like it’s easy.
I thought I’d include it as part of my blog, because I’ve been thinking a lot about Christmases past the last few days. This memory is truly a warm-fuzzy one for me: the day that Martha Jane asked Martha Jhill for a recipe. I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as she did.


Christmas Pie:
1 (9 inch) un-baked pie shell
2 eggs, beaten
1/3 cup butter, melted
3/4 c white sugar if you like it sweeter, add 1/4 c more
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon distilled white vinegar
½ cup chopped pecans
½ cup shredded coconut
½ cup golden raisins
　
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

In a medium mixing bowl combine eggs, butter, sugar, vanilla extract, and vinegar. Beat until smooth. Stir in pecans, coconut, and raisins. Pour mixture into pastry shell.

Bake in preheated oven for 40 minutes. Cool before serving. Serve with vanilla ice-cream.

Note: I bake my pie shell for about five minutes before I put the mixture in the bottom, so the crust isn’t soggy. Put foil around the edges. Also, if you want to try the chocolate chip morsel variation, add a cup at the point when you stir in the pecans, coconut and raisins. Top with whipped cream or go for broke and add a scoop of vanilla ice-cream. Enjoy!

Yes, Virginia...

One of my favorite holiday readings is the letter that Virginia O’Hanlon wrote to the editor of the now defunct New York newspaper, The Sun. Her letter sought clarification and confirmation about the existence of Santa Claus. The original editorial was titled, Is There a Santa Claus. Francis P. Church published his response to Virginia on September 21^st, 1897 in which he addressed her question and concerns. That editorial has become and remains to this day THE most reprinted English language editorial in history. I’ve posted it here for your enjoyment. Have a day filled with wonder and blessings!

http://youtu.be/TgNSX5YzDSs [Jingle Bells/Barbra Streisand]
http://youtu.be/MR4Ik4RflVU [Winter Wonderland/Elvis]
　



Dear Editor,
I am eight years old. Some of my little friends say there is no Santa Claus. Papa says "If you see it in the Sun it's so." Please tell me the truth, is there a Santa Claus?

Virginia O'Hanlon.
115 W.95th St
Reply:

VIRGINIA, your little friends are wrong. They have been affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not believe except what they see. They think that nothing can be which is not comprehensible by their little minds. All minds, Virginia, whether they be men's or children's, are little. In this great universe of ours man is a mere insect, an ant, in his intellect, as compared with the boundless world about him, as measured by the intelligence capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, VIRGINIA, there is a Santa Claus! He exists as certainly as love and generosity and devotion exist, and you know that they abound and give to your life its highest beauty and joy. Alas! how dreary would be the world if there were no Santa Claus. It would be as dreary as if there were no VIRGINIAS. There would be no childlike faith then, no poetry, no romance to make tolerable this existence. We should have no enjoyment, except in sense and sight. The eternal light with which childhood fills the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in Santa Claus! You might as well not believe in fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch in all the chimneys on Christmas Eve to catch Santa Claus, but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down, what would that prove? Nobody sees Santa Claus, but that is no sign that there is no Santa Claus. The most real things in the world are those that neither children nor men can see. Did you ever see fairies dancing on the lawn? Of course not, but that's no proof that they are not there. Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are unseen and unseeable in the world.
You may tear apart the baby's rattle and see what makes the noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of all the strongest men who ever lived, could tear apart. Only faith, fancy, poetry, love, romance, can push aside that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, VIRGINIA, in all this world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No Santa Claus! Thank GOD! he lives, and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia, nay, ten times ten thousand years from now, he will continue to make glad the heart of childhood.

Here We Come a Caroling...

Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love."
                                      ~ Hamilton Wright Mabie

There is no story or personal reflections to this post. It is simply a post of feel good and easy listening. I wanted to put together a compilation of the songs that I love and enjoy during this season. There are a few missing songs - perhaps, for another year. I hope you’ll spend a little time here, at your leisure, and share these songs with me. Get a cup of tea, coffee or cocoa and a plate of Christmas cookies, turn on your tree lights, sit back and relax. The season is truly upon us now. I wish you the happiest of holidays and a joyous listening experience...

NOTE: To facilitate listening: click on the blue link; listen to the song then hit your back arrow on your computer which will bring you back to the blog entry and click on the next blue link....and so forth, and so on....

http://youtu.be/sqXwVH6A7so [Ding Dong Merrily on High/Roger Whittaker]
http://youtu.be/O3wujkozv9E [A Baby Changes Everything/Faith Hill]
http://youtu.be/BM9Wg9PiviM [We Need A Little Christmas Now/Percy Faith Orchestra]
http://youtu.be/nZ19mW-TMRk [Believe from Polar Express/Josh Groban]
http://youtu.be/73UqDX_quk0 [It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year/Andy Williams]
http://youtu.be/stEjTFMb940 [Silver Bells/Jim Reeves]
http://youtu.be/eAw-9npi3Z4 [Let It Snow/Rosemary Clooney]
http://youtu.be/uGzEQRsDtPg [I Heard the Bells On Christmas Day/Eddy Arnold]
http://youtu.be/2JRvOnJH7Vw [The Christmas Song/Nat King Cole & Frank Sinatra]
http://youtu.be/4aoFp0hfqko [Do You See What I See/Linda Eder]
http://youtu.be/ESHZbPiJxJ0 [Sleigh Ride/Instrumental]
http://youtu.be/g7sYCoIqeqI [Christmas Waltz/The Carpenters]
http://youtu.be/Y-ImRQuFSXo [We Three Kings/Carol of the Bells/Kenny G]
http://youtu.be/YHI5lqk3NMU [Santa Baby/Eartha Kitt]
http://youtu.be/8T3--oD1f0Q [Holly Jolly Christmas/Burl Ives]
http://youtu.be/XzH28CUgM2A [Silent Night/Linda Eder]
http://youtu.be/XeShHAZk3to [Please Come Home for Christmas/The Eagles]
http://youtu.be/yHDgzQ6eQw4 [There’s No Place Like Home For the Holidays/Perry Como]
http://youtu.be/nmGSHZYZ74c [Where Are You Christmas/Faith Hill]
http://youtu.be/KxNtRHwdkAg [The Little Drummer Boy/David Bowie & Bing Crosby]
http://youtu.be/t1--x1xORt8 [The Prayer/Celine Dion & Andrea Bocelli]
http://youtu.be/z8Vfp48laS8 [Happy Christmas~War Is Over/John Lennon & Yoko Ono]
http://youtu.be/nsUSfk8EDfg [The Friendly Beasts/Garth Brooks & Friends]
http://youtu.be/4cP26ndrmtg [Christmas Canon - Trans-Siberian Orchestra]
http://youtu.be/JvGhznjbuJw [It’s Beginning to Look A Lot Like Christmas/Johhny Mathis]
http://youtu.be/DGN1ES4nsLQ [Ave Maria/Sarah Brightman]
http://youtu.be/vfQ3WbIfxtY [You’ll Never Walk Alone/Michael Junior]
http://youtu.be/ZduAV868A5Y [White Christmas/Bing Crosby]
http://youtu.be/usfiAsWR4qU [The Messiah/Handel *Please Stand When Listening to This 1]
http://youtu.be/Q9TTOPG4cV0 [Celebrate Me Home/Kenny Loggins]
http://youtu.be/THg8Yes6zec [Angels We Have Heard On High/Andea Bocelli]
http://youtu.be/MIFH0TUWcBA [O Holy Night/Josh Groban]
http://youtu.be/Yz7FYPQp7v0 [Happy Holidays/Andy Williams]
http://youtu.be/xPvsLIlroyY [O Christmas Tree/Vince Guaraldi Trio]
http://youtu.be/c5CaLcAA7ek [When My Heart Finds Christmas/Harry Connick, Jr.]
http://youtu.be/GRS_lylu90s  [We Wish You a Merry Christmas & A Happy New Year]

Three Bonus Tracks for New Year’s:

http://youtu.be/G1YbfCQmr4o [What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve/Nancy Wilson]
http://youtu.be/OYIWeow6W14 [Same Auld/Old Lang Syne/Dan Fogelberg]
http://youtu.be/uwggIWHjIjU [Millennium Mix 2010/Kenny G]

Merry Christmas, Everybody, & God Bless Us Everyone....
I wish you Peace, Health, Happiness and Love in the New Year...
Always love...
Blessings!
　
　

I Said the Dove

"I see my role as offering support...to provide some light along the way." ~Leo Buscaglia

http://youtu.be/nsUSfk8EDfg [The Friendly Beasts]

This time of year is filled with pageantry and programs as the various stories and aspects of the holiday season come into play: The Nutcracker, A Christmas Carol, The Christmas Story, Altoona Christmas, and concerts galore. When I was a little girl, the show to see in our house was the Christmas Story that the children’s choir of Englewood Christian Church put on for our congregation. It was a BIG deal.
My sister and I were in the choir; she is two years older than I am. Anxiously, we waited for Mrs. Forbes to pick the roles for the production of The Friendly Beasts coupled with other Christmas songs that we were doing that year. The coveted roles for the mini-play were the roles of Mary and Joseph. I don’t remember who got the roles of Joseph, the donkey, the cow, the sheep, or the camel. I only remember who got the role of Mary and the dove. For a moment in time, it wasn’t a pretty sight around our house.
My sister, Pam, got the role of Mary. I was called upon to play the dove. I wailed. And, in case I’d not wailed loudly enough the first time, I wailed some more the longer I thought about it. I had wanted to be Mary, and I didn’t see why, just because my hair was blonde and my eyes were blue that I couldn’t be. [In my previous entry, I spoke about my father’s realization and understanding of "unfairness" at an early age. This was such a moment for me.]
My mother tried to console me. "Honey," she said gently. "You don’t look like Mary."
My brows came together, not convinced. "Who says?"
My mother knew me well enough to know that at times, I needed "showing" and not merely telling. She got her Bible and turned to the chapter of Luke. She found the page that had the artwork depiction of the holy birth. Sure enough, Mary’s hair was brown. She looked more like my sister than she did me.
I pursed my lips together, trying, even at a tender age to circumvent the standards of a given. In other words, just because someone says something is so, doesn’t always, necessarily, mean it is such. [Yes. I’ve always questioned things....call it being a Leo and the curious nature that comes along with being a "cat" or call it being trained in journalism and my curious nature in general. Curious natures question things.... I have one, and I do.]
"Why can’t we pull my hair back and put your chignon on top of it?"
For those of you who didn’t grow up in the 60's and early 70's, a chignon is a fancy french term used to describe a bun of hair that is the color of one’s regular hair and bobby pinned to the woman’s hair at the nape of her neck or a little higher. It was a fashion statement back when I was a child. My mother and her best friend had one. My mother’s hair was dark brown just like Mary’s and her chignon was that same color. Now, I don’t know if my mother laughed at that. I don’t recall her laughing, and I tend to think she didn’t because I was dead serious, and she didn’t laugh at me in situations like that, even if I had said something that was ludicrously funny. She probably bit her lip to keep herself from laughing in my presence. [I swear, I don’t know how parents do that – keep from laughing straight out – especially after having heard some of the things my friends’ kids say.]
Anyway, she gently, but firmly told me that Mrs. Forbes had made her decision, and she, meaning Mrs. Forbes, thought that Pam would be a better Mary.
Still, I didn’t understand how that could be so? "Why?" I demanded SOME reason beyond just that explanation. "Nobody gave me a chance to see if I could be a good Mary."
My mother didn’t have an answer nor argument for that. So, she did what I now know she did in situations like that, she steered me away from what situation had caused my pouty*ness and directed me to something I’d not thought of before.
"You know," she pointed out. "Mary doesn’t have a speaking part in this, but you, YOU, have a singing part. You have a solo."
The momentary spotlight of solo hadn’t dawned on me at that point.
"I don’t want to play a stupid dove!" I said, digging my feet in.
She pulled me into her lap, un-digging my feet. The conversation began with "Martha Jhill". It only began that way when she was upset-angry about something that I’d done, or surprised by something I’d said that she knew wasn’t true or she thought was riotously funny.
"Martha Jhill," she began to explain MY significance in the church play. "The dove is NOT stupid!" she said with conviction. "Do you know what the dove represents?"
I didn’t. But, I had a feeling it was important because of the way she’d asked it. I shook my head.
"The dove is the symbol of peace, the whole world over," she said. "When people see a dove, that’s what they think of: peace. It’s a very important thing."
It sounded good, but I wasn’t convinced. "But, I want to sit by the baby Jesus, and I want to be the pretty one who gets to be Mary."
My sister was a pretty child. She was breathtakingly pretty. People always referred to me as a "cute little girl". When you’re a "cute little girl", ALL you ever want to be, just for one moment, is that breathtakingly pretty one.
"Doves are pretty little birds," my mother replied. "They’re pure white," she noted. "Why, I bet Mrs. Forbes picked you to play the dove because of how pretty your hair is." [I was platinum blonde as a child. A natural. LOL]
My hair was pretty. I gave her that point in the discussion.
"You know what else?"
"No," I grumbled, then remembered myself. "Ma’am."
"You have a sweet singing voice," she told me. "And, out of ALL the animals in the play, the dove is the one who sang the baby Jesus to sleep. That’s a VERY important job! Mother’s normally sing their babies to sleep, but in this case, the dove is the one to do that."
My young brain processed this new and significant piece of information. "So, the dove is kinda like Mary."
"Yes," my mother agreed, after thinking about it for a minute. "I think she is."
"Can my dove’s name be Mary?"
Again, I don’t know if she laughed. I don’t recall hearing it, but I think I remember her biting her lip considering this point. I don’t think she thought it would hurt anything, and it would put an end to my unrest, displeasure and unjust feeling of treatment over the role selection. "I don’t see why you can’t be a dove named Mary."
I wish I’d been a fly on the wall when she’d explained that little development to both Pam and Mrs. Forbes. Neither one ever said a word to me about it. It wasn’t a significant battle to wage - that my dove would be called, Mary, if only by me and my mother.
So, I dutifully accepted the role of "Mary the dove". After all, I was the fair-haired child needed by my youth choir to play the role of a fair-feathered bird who sang the baby Jesus to sleep. Who was I to deny such a request?
Here’s the thing, once things got underway, I wouldn’t have traded roles with my sister if they had given me a week’s allowance. Pam, in the role of Mary, had to kneel beside the manger for a good 15-20 minutes. She had to practice that – kneeling with her arms and hands folded in a gesture of prayer [think Charlie’s Angels hand-pose from the 70's] It wasn’t easy. She had to stay perfectly still for the entire play. Have you ever knelt for that long – tried to stay still? It’s not an easy or comfortable thing to do.
I, on the other hand, got to walk up the small staircase and platform that had been constructed and attached to the back of the plyboard-made manger. I got to go up four stairs and stand in the center of things at the point of my solo until the end of the play. Me, in the center of things – singularly in the center of them. No one else got to do that!  It was special, and I'm all over special!  There was also a railing for me to hold onto as I stood there, looking like I was perched atop the manger. I had the best seat in the house, and, unlike my sister, I got to move my head about, side to side, like a bird would do, looking out over the audience. I played it to the hilt too. When the time came for my solo, and the spotlight shown solely on me, I smiled brightly and sang clearly:
"I said the dove, from the rafters high. I cooed him to sleep so he would not cry. We cooed him to sleep, my mate and I. I said the dove, from the rafters high."
I learned from that experience that ALL parts of something are important to make it work, for it to be a success. Being a supporting player is every bit as important as being the main one. Sometimes, being a supporting player is the best role of all. It was a good Christmas play. I remember the thunderous ovation we got from the audience.
I remember Mrs. Forbes calling each one of us out from the choir, who had been the main players of the play, onto the center of the stage for a special recognition. As the lights went up, I looked for my mother to see if I had done a good job. I saw her smile from ear to ear as she stood beaming with pride over the wonderful job that each of her daughters had done in the play of The Friendly Beasts. Her smile; her pride; her ovation was for both of us: Mary the mother and Mary the dove...