I can't remember a holiday season when I've been less prepared than I am right now. It's the goofiest thing to have Christmas right around the corner and me be like, "Uh, what day is this?"
Between the lack of recognition that Christmas is really just about here, and the busyness of all that has been going on, I am supremely disorganized in every way.
Today I ran around town with Byron, dashing, well, not actually DASHING since traffic was ridiculous, but sort of charging in a sluggish way from one thing to the next.
And in the heat of the heavy after-a-huge-thunderstorm weather, in the bumpiness of the muddy potholes and in the crush of vendors and hawkers mobbing our car windows constantly, in it all I just felt this crazy, creeping joy.
Joy because I love being alone (even in the middle of this city) with Byron. Joy because our Christmas gifts are so simple and unglamorous. Joy because we can open our home to Tait, the lovely Peace Corps volunteer that our family has adopted. Joy because Peter and Tammy are still smiling even though the delays in fixing up their new rental mean that they are moving in tomorrow, not 2 weeks ago like they would have liked. Joy because my parents are just so darn easy to please and they enjoy the smallest things truly. Joy because the sound of the rain on our roof all night is a magical, mysterious melody to me.
And JOY because Christmas isn't a fairy tale.
"The myth that is true," as C.S. Lewis calls the story of Christ. It's just too good!