December 20, 2010
Greetings from where it is warm,
I am writing this in a room that is illuminated only in the
glow of our Christmas tree just outside of the French doors. I can turn in my chair and see the apron of
gifts circling the tree, puddling out into the room in brightly colored ribbons
and paper.
The light bulb that normally lights this desk is burned out,
but that it is irrelevant because the lamp in which it’s installed is
broken. It is a very nice looking
bulb-coffin, one I have not made time to fix or, more likely, brought myself to
throw out.
It is on a list of things that should be fixed or dealt
with. Weatherproofing, leaking tub,
cracked drywall, sump pump, broken drawer, messy workbench of tools waiting to
be organized. All of these stand in
line outside my door like specters, muttering and complaining that they can’t
get the attention they need. I turn my
back on that door and focus on the light from the tree.
The stairs to the basement are near collapse. I intended to fix them several months ago,
and several times since then, but other priorities pushed the stairs down the
‘to do’ list. So instead I chose to wait
for a more opportune time, which if you look in the Encyclopedia
Procrastinatia, you will find in volume ‘N’ under ‘Never’.
On the other side of the windows, winter has our home
wrapped in ice, the snow banked up around the edges, frost on the glass. Temperatures in the single digits are common,
and this isn’t even Canada. From the
vents near my feet a steady current of warm air, pushes back the chilled
draft. In fact, it is a cozy room. But in the line of muttering things my
furnace waits, a foul scowl on its face, vengeance in its heart.
Most of you already know that my method of furnace maintenance
up to now has been somewhat rudimentary and yet technically astute and eminently
effective. I’ll explain but you may want
to get your Mechanical Engineering degree and come back.
When the furnace goes out, I remove the panel that encloses
the magic parts. I find a large stick or
something heavy enough to get its attention and then bang on the furnace until I
anger the Fire god and he tries to incinerate me by igniting the furnace. So far this has worked 100% of the time.
I’ve come to think of my furnace as a persnickety relative
that we put up with because to do otherwise would be too painful. As it happens, this relative lives in our
basement, which adds a whole creepy aspect to my simile. Now bring in a morbid flavor; the furnace is
on its death bed.
The part of me that I think with most of the time, the cheap
part, has avoided investing in a new furnace for two main reasons: I don’t want
to spend the money, and the money required is an amount I do not wish to spend.
But there comes a time when even the power of parsimony
cannot fend off the pressure of reality.
Our furnace submitted an ultimatum, which I don’t think is a bluff, and
I must react. I am not going to be
blackmailed by a cantankerous 30 year old conglomeration of metal. So it is being replaced with a more agreeable
version.
Ah, but first the basement stairs must be fixed or a new
level of comedy will be added to the mix.
Now where is my stair-fixing tool?
Somewhere on the workbench in the garage, buried under other things
waiting to be fixed, layered with Christmas cookies we don’t have room for in
the refrigerator.
You should not have a hard time connecting the dots
here. A ruined lamp, a crumbling
staircase, an outdated furnace. Add
drafty windows, a car that starts on the third try and eaves troughs filled
with frozen leaves, and the picture begins to take shape. Now bring on the Holiday crush.
I realize it sounds like I am a bystander among chaos, but
in fact these things are just like the lists in most people’s lives. We all have at least a dozen plates spinning
at one time, and just when they are all going someone tosses in a flaming
bowling ball to juggle.
All of it matters a great deal and none of it matters at
all. Most days these things don’t
distract from our lives, and even now, with major repairs clawing at the door,
I am resolved not to let it ruin my spirit.
On a different day I might have my head in my hands, gnashing my teeth
with worry. But is hard not to have hope
sitting in the glow of the Christmas tree, decorated with charms from years of
family history, surrounded by gifts chosen with love, given with love.
It’s hard not to have hope, in the face of life’s
irritations and interruptions, when beyond the light of the Christmas tree is
the Light we wait for. Christmas is a
time of celebration and joy and prayer.
It is a time to connect with friends, to share time with family. But, for me, it is also a time of rest, a
time of peace, time to gather strength to deal with whatever else life might
bring. Armed with that, no line of
muttering ghosts can trouble me.
Merry Christmas.
Hope this finds you wrapped in light,
David
Copyright © 2010 David Smith
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