On Holiday

"Oh, there's no place like home for the holidays!"
- Robert Allen & Al Stillman

I haven't been writing much lately. Oops.

Here's a last-week-and-a-little-more recap...

It's been a magical holiday season at the Rush Homestead. The days leading up to Christmas involved lazy mornings/early afternoons sleeping in late in our living room. (We've been camped out in our living room since the Friday I got off work. Without a t.v. in our bedroom and no need to wake up at a certain time, Josh and I have been sleeping on an air mattress in our living room so we can stay up late and watch movies until we drift off to sleep. We call it having a slumber party. And we love doing it. Highly recommend it.) We each got cozy Christmas jammies (yes - I call them jammies, and no - I am not ashamed), Josh got a much-needed warm coat and a vintage Duaflex camera (for TTV photography - check him out here: www.joshrush.com), and - come to think of it - I may have actually gotten a total of 3 pairs of Christmas jammies. A plan was devised to buy each other a beautiful ornament from Philanthropy (they had a ridiculous sale on all their gorgeous ornaments. You should check out their awesomeness here: www.philanthropyfashion.com) to wrap and place under the tree.
I even had my own mini-Christmas-Eve-miracle: while Josh was busy buying my ornament at Philanthropy, I was a few doors down at Bathos, wistfully looking at the empty space where they typically stock my most favorite face mask (it's an all natural pineapple exfoliating face mask, and it's basically heaven in a plastic container. They ship anywhere - check them out here: www.bathosonline.com) and happened to ask Paul, one-half of the couple who owns Bathos, when they would restock the face mask. Stacy, his fiancee, replied - stepping over to a small silver bowl filled with the remnants of the last batch of the face mask, "There's a little left here, actually!" As she began scooping it into a plastic container, I said, "Oh, I can't buy anything for myself right now [it being Christmas Eve and all]. When will you make another batch?" As Paul began answering that they'd probably have more sometime the next week, Stacy commented, "The container isn't exactly full [it basically was], what do you say, should we give it to her for $5 [as opposed to the already extremely reasonable $8 it usually costs]?" A little embarrassed, I was preparing to say I really couldn't spend any money on myself at the moment, when Paul looked at me and said, "Aww. Just give it to her. It's Christmas Eve."
See? A mini-Christmas-Eve-miracle.

That night, our dear friend Evie joined us for our Christmas Eve dinner tradition (well, we've done it two years in a row now, so it's definitely at least on its way to becoming a tradition): sushi. We kinda really love sushi. We then all went to the 9:00 Christmas Eve service at The People's Church, which included candles and carols and all kinds of Christmas cheer. When Josh and I got home, we took silly Christmas pictures in our new jammies* (see below), then engaged in another Christmas Eve tradition of ours (again, the second year - we're still newlyweds when it comes to this whole Christmas traditions thing): watching White Christmas. Then we went to sleep, woke up...

And it was Christmas.

As soon as we opened our eyes, Josh quickly plugged in the Christmas tree, which lit up beautifully, and turned on some Christmas music. Excitedly, we unpacked the stockings we'd filled for each other. Lots of candy was involved, and the customary fruit-in-the-toe this year was a red grapefruit for Josh and a pomegranate for me. Scruffy's stocking held bacon-cheeseburger-flavored treats. (He's not spoiled, really.) Then we each opened our lovely ornaments and devoured the delicious cinnamon rolls we'd popped in the oven earlier. As Josh started getting ready for the rest of our Christmas Day, I made a peach cobbler (I'd love to say I made it from scratch, but alas - it was far easier than that. Still a hit, though.), got ready myself, and we headed to the Hall's for Christmas Day. It was a perfect Christmas Day, and we stayed from noon until almost midnight. Such a priceless gift to be included in their family celebration. Josh and I felt blessed to be a part of their day.
The next few days were relaxing and gloriously uneventful. We visited with our friends-who-are-basically-family, Bev and Cliff all day Sunday, then yesterday we went to the Frist (www.fristcenter.org) . A.Ma.Zing. One visit Josh and I are already scheming to become members. Everything - including the delectable lunch we had at the Frist cafe - was perfect. We can't wait to go back.
(Seriously, I'm still dreaming about their portabello mushroom focaccia panini. Seriously.)

And now today, we've just been at home (in our Christmas jammies, in fact) watching the House marathon we recorded. Basically all day.
Have I mentioned I love being on holiday?

*As promised.
Disclaimer: I cannot be held responsible for what happened in this picture. We gots to keep it real.

Can You Hear Them?

"Glory to God in the Highest, and on Earth peace, good will toward men."
(Luke 2:14)

It was Christmas Day, 1864. News of his beloved son suffering devastating wounds in the American Civil War had just reached his ears. His heart had not yet reconciled - and ultimately never would - the tragic death of his precious wife two years prior. Chaos and fear defined his world, as the nation waged an uncertain war, and the fabric of society and American life as he knew it was frayed - in danger of disintegrating completely. It was in this time of darkness and unimaginable grief that Henry Wadsworth Longfellow composed his timeless poem, "Christmas Bells."

Time has changed his heartfelt words and included a melody, adding it to the canon of beloved Christmas carols - but it is the original raw outpouring of a man's tattered soul that has touched mine this Christmas season. As we grow up and become responsible adults, it's difficult to hang onto the wonder of Christmas experienced as a child. There are very real stresses and fears that threaten to consume and steal the magic of Christmas from our grown-up hearts. And yet, the same God who created the Earth, who sent His tiny Son to a manger in a stable over 2,000 years ago - that same God - still sits on the throne today. Despite the chaos and fear and uncertainty intertwined with Christmas 2008 (as it was with Christmas 1864), God is alive, God is awake, and God is with us.

Emmanuel.

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old familiar carols play,
And wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till, ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead; nor doth He sleep!
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Oh Goodness.

(Fare thee well, little friend.)

*I'll just post the e-mail I sent to Josh. Pretty self-explanatory.

Subject: Oops...

So while I was busy in the bathtub with Sancho Panza and Eugene O'Neill (I'm re-reading The Iceman Cometh - you should read it!)...

...my cell phone suddenly vibrated with a call, and unexpectedly made a suicidal leap into the water.

I tried desperately to save him, and revived him long enough to make - and then promptly drop - a call before he blacked out.

I have him separated into pieces in an attempt to dry him out. But I'll admit, it's pretty touch-and-go at this point.

I'll leave my e-mail open tonight - can you please communicate with me through that?

I'm really really really really really really really really sorry...

(:o/

Love,

Your Klutz Of A Wife

*This means I have no cell phone at the moment. Please e-mail me or Facebook me or Myspace me or even - heavens to Betsy! - send me a letter. But don't try to call me. You will not be successful.

Sigh.

** Update: I found my old phone and it's working swimmingly (too soon?), so I have officially rejoined the wireless world. My new/old phone is red and shiny and sassy - I call him Ferrari.

Meow.

Christmas Time Is Here

Have you ever danced with a dog?

I highly recommend it.

While my sweet husband is off at the studio for a couple hours today, I decided to be a good little wife and surprise him by cleaning the kitchen and mopping the floor, in anticipation of our Nashville Family Thanksgiving, taking place at the Rush Home tomorrow. Since we all know it's better to whistle while we work (thanks, Snow White), I decided to put on one of my all-time favorite Christmas albums while I cleaned - the soundtrack to A Charlie Brown Christmas. That Vince Guaraldi always gets me right here.

Happiness and cheer.

Mixed in with all those other time-honored, traditional Christmas songs is one that breaks my heart, makes me smile, and reminds me of the magic of Christmas - all at the same time, every single time. That song would be the instrumental version of "Christmas Time Is Here." As it began playing, I looked down at my sweet, loyal puppy who was hanging out with me in the kitchen while I worked, and asked him if he wanted to dance with me. He said yes. (Technically.) So I picked him up, and he helped me with a little jump up into my arms like he always does - such a thoughtful canine. I swear that God has given dogs a sixth sense when it comes to their owners - I think any dog owner will agree with me on this one. He put both his paws on either of my shoulders in a little doggy-hug, like he always does, but this time he also wrapped his head around my neck as far as he could - as though to give me a little extra "I love you" squeeze. We slowly drifted in a small, circular waltz to the melancholy-beautiful strains of the song, and I closed my eyes, as I felt felt a flood of emotions wash over me.

Snowflakes in the air, beauty everywhere.

I am so thankful for both my boys - my husband who is so precious to me and makes my life worth living, and the tiny dog who was willing to fill in for him on our kitchen dance floor this morning. I miss my sister (who I just had the delight of spending an incredible week with last week - see "Hoehns" below for details), my parents, my bothers, and I thought of how I finally understand the whole notion of the "Holiday Blues." Without question, I am a Christmas-lover and feel such joy and childlike excitement as the holidays approach. But I am here in Nashville, and the rest of my family - the ones I spent my first couple dozen Christmases with - is scattered across the country, and I know I will not be seeing any of them this Christmas. There was a sharp, distinct pain in my heart and a lump in my throat as I twirled with Scruffy around the kitchen, and I think - I know - he sensed my sadness, because right then he unhooked his face from my neck for a minute to kiss my nose, then went back to snuggling tightly. Next I began to think of our dear friends who we are so blessed to have in Nashville, and how excited I am to celebrate Thanksgiving with them tomorrow. I thought of how blessed Josh and I are to have found a Chosen Family here where we live. As the song slowly wound down, I began to feel renewed excitement and anticipation for the season - to put up our Christmas decorations, to go see extravagant light displays, to drink hot chocolate and hold hands with my dear husband, to be thankful for our little family of three - including this silly, sweet dog I held in my arms. It is a magical time of year indeed.

Oh that we could always see such spirit through the year.

I hope that you also watch for the tiny miracle moments of the holiday season. Take every opportunity to indulge in the beauty of Christmas, to make a new memory or beloved tradition of your own. To maybe dance to your favorite Christmas song in the kitchen with a sweet little puppy dog.

And please be sure to have yourself

A Merry Little Christmas.

Hoehns

"Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family. Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one. "
~Jane Howard

I sure love those Hoehns.

(Ok, seriously?! Are they not the most beautiful family ever?! It's ok to take a moment to stop and stare. Take your time.)

Joshua and I spent Thanksgiving weekend with my priceless sister and her treasure of a family. It was unforgettable. From stealing away for shopping/Bubble Tea/Breadwinners with Jen, to the gourmet feast Ed cooked for us, to laughing at their silly adorable kids, to hearing Sophia ask "Want to hold you?" while Eddie ran around saving us and the world entire from unseen assailants (as Iron Man/Spiderman, naturally), to staying up late to talk and getting up early to eat pancake (no - not plural - just one massive one), even hitting the most ghetto bowling alley my sister has probably ever set a well-heeled (or fringe-booted) foot in...

It was magical.

Growing up, Jen and I went from best friends to screaming banshees and back again every few minutes. (We are female and it is our prerogative, after all.) Around the time I started to have some self-awareness - and realized how brilliant and touching "Total Eclipse of the Heart" is, and that Dairy Queen is a gift only a loving God could bestow on mankind - my sister and I became unimaginably close. I remember running up to her and throwing my arms around her whenever I saw her at school my freshman year, when she was the impossibly cool senior princess. What I would only later discover is that we were not the norm. What kind of self-respecting high school senior lets her freshman sister run up and hug her in public, much less (the horror!) share her clothes, which we did on a day-to-day basis? Looking back, I understand now that my sister possessed a kindness and tenderness far beyond her eighteen years would typically allow. Because she always hugged me back. Some sisters avoided each other in the halls, while others would barely acknowledge each other, with a steely glare and a nearly imperceptible head nod (as though recognizing a dangerous enemy, and respecting their ability to annihilate and totally humiliate each other, if necessary). But there was something different and, cheesy as it sounds, really special between my sister and me. Obviously I would be excited to see her, but she was always excited to see me too. And when something went wrong, if someone hurt me or was rude to me, my sister went into protective lioness mode and left no survivors. (Remember Allison? Nope - no one else does either...) I craved her acceptance, and she gave me much more than just that - she publicly and openly loved me. I was too lucky.

When she met her handsome husband-to-be, I admit to being supremely jealous. My brother-in-law is an amazing man who I could go on and on about, and he adored my sister and treated her like a queen - but I had a hard time losing her, little by little, to someone else. Although immensely happy for her and her newly-beginning life with him, I missed the days of impromptu fro-yo runs and music blasting as we sang along at the top of our lungs...

Fast forward, through a baby, a marriage (her baby, my marriage - just to clarify), a move to Dallas, another baby, and a move to Nashville, then stop right there at the week of Thanksgiving - 2008. As always, as soon as I saw my sister, she wrapped me in a huge hug - a hug unlike anyone else gives me, because she is my only sister. We giggled like schoolgirls, we caught up - and we even went on a few impromptu Bubble Tea runs with music blasting, while singing at the tops of our lungs. (See how we've upgraded from simple fro-yo? Such sophisticates.) My conviction was reinforced - Jen and I are blessed and have a uniquely beautiful sister relationship. With unconditional love and acceptance firmly in place, we go a step further - we actually genuinely, truly like each other. Like, a lot. There's no way to count the number of times we made each other laugh uncontrollably, the way we encourage each other (for the record her booty IS bananas), cheer each other on in our lives, and never run out of things to say.

I know neither of us ever planned to live so far away from each other, and it hurts somewhere deep in my heart every time I call her and think "I wish I could just stop by her place right now," but I also feel like we're doing a tremendous job keeping that amazing gift of a bond alive and kicking. The love we have for each other is strong, powerful, and can't be overcome by a few measly hundred miles.

Last week just proved that to me, even more profoundly.

I love you, Jen.

(Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock...)