The Call

The phone rang just after midnight.  Phone calls in the middle of the night are never good at our house. It usually means that a cow is out and needs to be put back where it belongs.  Most of the time, you get there to discover it is not even your cow, but instead your neighbor's.  Since you are already awake and there, you do the neighborly thing and return the lost animal to its proper place.

That phone call two years ago changed our lives.  It was the news that there had been a fire and James was dead.  James was a young cowboy that had worked for us for many years and was like a son to us.  Things seemed to be in slow motion and each second painfully lasted a full minute which made everything blurred and surreal.  Grasping to process it all and at the same time searching mentally for a place to retreat and make it all go away.

We found out in the darkness of night and there was no way to go back to sleep with the world crashing down around us.  I remember being on the front porch, coffee in hand and seeing the sun come up that morning.  How dare the sun rise.  Did it not get the memo that the world was to stand still?  I went to get another cup of coffee and returned to the porch.  It was a beautiful sunrise and the sun seemed closer than normal.  I realized it was a clear message that life for the rest of us goes on.  It may be painful and hard at first, but it must go on.

He was too young to die and had too much ahead of him, we reasoned over and over.  The feeling of loss was overwhelming, especially for Ed. They spent more time together every day than Ed and I did as husband and wife. Both were private and quiet, but together they shared things as they rode pens and worked cattle.  Ed loved James and wanted the best for him, teaching him things and helping him mature.  Just like the ground work on a young colt, James was being slowly groomed, bridled and refined.  Amazing what a loving hand and a kind word can do to a wild thing.  James was really starting to come into his own and become a man.

Because James was not our real son, it was awkward to let him go back to his family that were genetically linked to him.  I did not like the idea of his body being so far away from us, but I kept reminding myself of the importance of family and that James was gone...this was just the earthly remains.  What we had with him was real and lasting...transcending DNA...the family that you deliberately choose.

For over a year, we could not escape that feeling that James would be just around the corner waiting to surprise us.  We saw him everywhere.  He was at the feedyard, the horse barn, the arena, the round pen, the open pasture with the cattle, and the horse sale.  I longed to see his shy expressions, hear him excitedly describe a horse with more words than he would use for the rest of the week, or laugh at a cowboy who just got bucked off in the sale ring who just moments before described the horse as bomb proof. 

We speak of James quite often.  We have come to place of acceptance, remembering the good times and laughing with fondness.  Choosing again and again to celebrate his life and the time we had with him.  To celebrate that relationships that we have make us better in the end and that family means a forged bond not just blood.

James is gone but part of him remains with us....in every horse and in every pasture.

O Christmas Tree

At my grandmother's house, the signal that the holiday season was upon us meant plugging in the snow capped ceramic Christmas tree with colored lights. It sat on top of a large toaster oven in the corner of her dining room. Year round. That was it. I lamented even as a small child how sad and pitiful it was that she didn't do more

While I realize that some stores put out Christmas decorations in July, I have always felt it was disrespectful to the Thanksgiving holiday to not wait until the day after to hose down the house with all things celebrating the birth of Sweet Infant Baby Jesus.  This year I am not even sure where we are going to be for Christmas Day so I am reluctant to even think about my usual five decorated trees and four nativities.  It is a whole lot of work and I don't need one more thing to pack....and I don't have the time.  I really don't.

I wrestle with the question of how it will effect my Christmas spirit if I don't go all out like normal.  Is playing Elvis' Blue Christmas album and the concession of one tree enough?  It is hard to suppress my inner Martha Stewart and not make every square inch of my home scream Christmas. 

I admit it.  I bought into this commercialization of the infant savior's birth a long time ago.  Hook, line, and sinker.  I actually enjoy the decorating and embrace the creativity that comes with it....but really...what is this holiday really about?  Is baby Jesus displeased with us for not lighting things up so they can be seen from space?  Would He be happy about the hours spent decorating everything that will stand still?  Is the purpose of it all killing yourself trying to find the holy grail of gifts for each person you've ever met?

Maybe this year, in honor of simplicity....in honor of my grandmother...in honor of the true meaning of Christmas I will focus on the things that would please Sweet Infant Baby Jesus and let go of (most) all the superficial, commercial, meaningless decorations.  Just this year.  Maybe.  Okay...maybe just one tree.

I'm still playing my Elvis music...."I'll have a blue Christmas without you"...cause Christmas is not Christmas without the King...both of them!