At choir practice Thursday night Nancy handed out a new song, Silent Night/Peace on Earth. She said she got the idea from one of our newer members, who, it turns out, sang with a touring Disney musical in Japan. The Silent Night arrangement was written for Disney's Lady and the Tramp in 1953. Before they learned that, they both thought the title had something to do with silent moonbeams. Turns out Nancy found pages and pages on the Silent as a Moonbeam Mattress instead, which of course caused laughter all around.
Heather Lende's blog
Good thing everyone around here will be too busy to fret about or participate in the worst holiday “promotion” since Mr. Potter stole Uncle Billy’s deposit from George Bailey’s crummy old savings and loan.
I was in the bookstore yesterday, signing a stack of my books for Liz, who owns the place, when Debra said she liked my jacket. It is bright green and very visible. I apologized right away, I had not bought it locally, my daughter got it for me on a big on-line sale, my girls all agreed I needed to spiff up some, and the color would help keep me safe walking in the gloaming northern light. Debra laughed. She said that the consciousness to "shop at home" must be raising if we feel we need to apologize when we don't.
I have a few big things on my to-do list for today and tomorrow which may explain why I am up very early (with the moonlight on the snow it seems brighter, somehow, than many of the recent days.)
1. Write a Woman's Day column.
2. Write Jim Cox's obituary.
3. Write my aunt a Christmas letter.
When the rain quit and the wind died down Monday evening (well, afternoon, it was about 2:30) Phoebe, my 11-year old Haines terrier and I, decided to go for a walk and we figured you might like to come too.
Yesterday in church we sang my favorite Advent Hymn, People Look East. (I like O Come Emmanuel, but this is more festive.) The first verse includes, "Make your house fair as you are able, trim the hearth and set the table, love the guest is on the way." That always is my cue to find the Advent calendar, string some lights, get out the creche and the Christmas books and my Sue Smith hand carved Santas. We don't put up our tree until after the Christmas parade, which is next weekend.
"The amazing thing is that prayers are effective even when the person being prayed for is unaware of them." - Madeleine L'Engle
It must be December because it is so darn dark this morning. There's that, and the alarm clock flashed 3:36 when I heard my husband loading the wood stove and a roof-a-lanche thundered off the eave above my head and crashed onto the porch roof below making the little terrier on my bed leap up and bark alarmingly close to my face. It wasn't 3:36, it was 5:02, the power had gone out. The thing is, it might as well have been the middle of the night.
Last night as I was sliding along the snowy roads to the Haines Borough Assembly meeting, a commentator on the radio, speaking of some other bigger deal far away-- not the hydro-electric dam proposed for a little lake in the upper Chilkoot valley-- quoted Bismarck, "Politics is the art of the possible." Since I have just completed studies for my MFA in creative writing my mind leapt right to Emily Dickinson’s poem, "I Dwell in Possibility":
I dwell in Possibility-- A fairer House than Prose-- More numerous of Windows-- Superior--for Doors--
Yes. No school. The library is closed, the clinic is closed. The senior center is closed. No pre-school, no Headstart. The post office is even closed. Steve on the radio says, "only the emergency and snow clearing personnel should be out right now." Yikes. This is absolutely nuts.