The Five Gifts of Christmas - Gift Four: The Gift of Grace

Sometimes, during the frenzy of gift giving over the Christmas holidays, we find ourselves the recipient of an unexpected gift from an unexpected source. How many of us, instead of receiving the gift with gratitude and thanks, immediately become uncomfortable? We'll say things like: "Oh, you shouldn't have," or, "but I didn't get you anything." If the gift turns out to be something we've wanted badly, or that demonstrates the gift givers love and thoughtfulness towards us, that little voice inside will start pushing those buttons that tell us we're not worthy of it, that we don't deserve it because we didn't do anything to earn it. 

This week's gift is one that comes to you with no strings attached. You don't have to do anything to earn it, and you don't have to prove your worthiness to receive it. It is the Gift of Grace. It is the divine expression of love from The Creator to the Creation. It is the assurance that you are loved, that you matter, that you are never alone, and that there is nothing you can do to lose it. It is knowing that you are supported in both your triumphs and your tragedies, and that you don't have to be from any particular religious tradition or ethnic background to receive it. It is the gift that keeps on giving, and giving, and giving, with no end in sight. It never needs a refill, a battery or a recharge. Grace is forever. 

As we celebrate the birth of the One who demonstrated grace in all it's amazing disguises, I wish you all a holiday filled with the love, peace and joy. Pass it on. That's Grace in action!

And so it is. 

The Five Gifts of Christmas - Week Three: The Gift of Hope

Hope: a feeling of expectation and desire for a certain thing to happen; a feeling of trust.

Wish: to feel or express a strong desire or hope for something not easily attainable; something that may not happen. 

I posted those two definitions above because this week's gift is the Gift of Hope, but so many of us get "hope" and "wish" mixed up. There is a very big difference between the two and I wanted to make sure you all got the right present! So, of course, I have a story to illustrate my point.




Christmas in New York City is a magical time of year for sure. I lived in the borough of Queens so going into the city was our yearly holiday adventure. We would go down into China Town for lunch, take in the Christmas show at Radio City, and, of course, visit the tree at Rockefeller Center and watch the ice skaters - roasted chestnuts were optional! As beautiful as it was, I would have traded it all in a New York minute for a white Christmas. Snow always seemed to just miss the city come December 25 for most of my childhood. Watching all of those Christmas movies on TV, I yearned for a Normal Rockwell, postcard perfect Christmas. Some day, I told myself, some day it will snow for Christmas. It wasn't a wish so much as it was a knowing that sooner or later it had to happen.

Christmas Eve in my home was a double celebration because it was also my father's birthday. My father was born at 12:03 Christmas morning - a boy named Joseph, born to a woman named Mary. It doesn't get more Christmas than that. So on Christmas Eve we would have an open house for all of our family and friends. My mother made homemade pizzas, and we had all manner of finger foods, cookies, fruits of the season, and, of course, Italian pastries! At 12:03 A.M. we toasted my dad and gave him his birthday presents, saving his Christmas presents for when the rest of us opened ours later in the day.

One year in particular, I was up in my parents' bedroom looking out of the windows which faced the street where I could get a good view of all the Christmas lights. It was Christmas Eve and my dad was on his way home from work where he had a gas station and auto repair garage in Brooklyn. We were waiting for him to start the evening's festivities. It had been a cloudy and very cold day, the kind of day my mother always said went right through your bones. I knelt in front of the window and had a talk with God. "God, all my life I've wanted snow for Christmas. I know it's cold enough out tonight for it to happen this year, and I know that You can make it happen. It's not just for myself. I'd love for my dad to have a white Christmas Birthday this year. I hope you will make it happen this year. Thank you. Amen." Just then my mother called for me to come downstairs and help her get the table ready for company.

As we were carrying things back and forth from the kitchen to the dinning room, my mother kept looking at the clock and then out into the darkness. "I hope you father gets home soon," she said. "It's supposed to snow tonight and I don't want him driving in it with all those people out drinking for the holidays (my mother was always certain that the entire world was always out at night drinking and driving)." I don't even remember what she said after that. I was rooted to the spot. Snow? It was supposed to snow? How did she know? Did she have a direct line to God the way she had one to Santa? Had I been paying attention to the radio she had playing in the kitchen all day, every day. as she worked, I would have heard, between Old Blue Eyes and Perry Como singing Christmas carols,  the weather man predicting the chance of the first white Christmas for the Big Apple in years!  A few minutes later we heard my father's key in the door and he came in, stamping his feet. There were a few snow flakes sticking to his hat and coat. I ran past him out onto the porch ignoring my mother's calls to "shut the door before we all freeze to death!" The Christmas lights of the houses up and down the block were reflecting on the filmy, snow covered sidewalks. I knew it! I knew it could happen! Hope is the desire for things that are possible. It is the belief that what we want can and will happen. It is what leads us to make a difference in the world.

This week I give you this Gift of Hope, for a bright and beautiful holiday season, and a peaceful and loving world, because I believe that both are possible.

And so it is.

The Five Gifts of Christmas - Gift Two: The Gift of Awe

Last week someone sent me a video on Facebook of the Christmas train all lit up and traveling over hill and dale somewhere is beautiful, snowy Canada. I sat there like a little kid watching the lights glowing in the dark and reflecting colors off of the snow. I react the same way when I see a Christmas tree all lit up outside. I watch the lighting of the tree in New York City on TV every year - a born and bred Big Apple girl here who never gets tired of seeing that tree come to life even after all these years. I spent many a Christmas season up close and personal watching the skaters swirl around that tree. If I live to be 100, when it comes to the beauty of Christmas, I am always a 5 year old filled with awe.

As kids there are lots of things besides Christmas that fill us with awe. When we are little, we see the whole world like that. Every day there is something to see or experience that tells us the world is a magical place. Then we grow up. The awe is gone and so is the magic. If we're lucky, it comes back once in a while, especially during the holiday season, and if we let ourselves feel it, we can all be 5 years old again if only for a few weeks. Somewhere along the way we crossed an invisible line and our parents, or our culture, or our teachers started telling us to "grow up" and leave the things of childhood behind. I totally disagree with that. I think when we believed in magic and let ourselves feel the awe in a Christmas tree, or a firefly, or a flock of geese passing overhead, we were our authentic selves. We were at our best.

When I became a grandmother, I found my awe again. I started seeing the world through the eyes of my grandchildren and I realized what I had been missing all of these years. When my own children were small, I was too busy trying to make a life and keep a roof over our heads to find the time to stop and find my awe again. I cannot tell you how I regret that, not only for myself, but for experiences with my girls that I missed out on. Now I look up at a cold, clear, starry night and I see miracles. I watch a Christmas train glowing in the night and I feel joy. I watch a Christmas tree light up for the first time and I feel love for the whole world.

This season, I give you the gift of awe. Let yourself receive it as that 5 year old you used to be. Look for it everywhere and remember what a beautiful place the world can be when we come out of the darkness and turn on the lights for all to see. Let your own light be awesome!

And so it is.

The Five Gifts of Christmas: Gift One - The Gift of Mindfullness

For the next five weeks, I am going to share five gifts with you. You don't have to wait for Christmas to open them up. They are gifts that I hope will be useful to you each and every day of your life. Feel free to re-gift them to others!

The first gift is the Gift of Mindfulness. During the holiday season, mindfulness is probably the last thing on anybody's mind. We are so busy trying to get everything done, get all the presents bought and wrapped, plan, shop and cook the holiday meals, bake the cookies, go to yet another Christmas party somewhere ... STOP! There came a time not too long ago when, after surviving just such a stressful holiday season, I took a step back and really looked at what I had accomplished. Had the gifts really been picked out with love and thoughtfulness for the person receiving it, or was it just another item checked off the list? Did I enjoy making the food and baking the cookies, or were they just chores to be gotten done? Was there even one tiny piece of the holidays that I actually got to enjoy, or did I sigh with relief on December 26th, happy to know I survived yet another season?

After giving it a great deal of thought, I realized that when I was gardening, I got a lot more done when I was mindful of what I was doing, giving each thing my full attention and allowing myself to enjoy each minute. From the first moment I stepped outdoors and looked up at the sky, or took a deep breath of the spring air, or stopped to listen to the morning birdsong, each and every thing I did after that received my undivided, individual attention. Then things not only seemed to flow effortlessly, but I got as much out of it as my garden did. So I decided to bring that same kind of mindfulness to the holiday season. When I shopped for a gift, I stopped and put my full attention on that person. What were they like? What did I most appreciate about them? What could I make or purchase that would carry the message: "I love having you in my life?" It didn't have to be anything huge or expensive. One of the most loving gifts I ever gave my sister was to re-create all of the things in her very own Christmas stocking exactly as our mother had done for us years ago when we were kids, compete with a Christmas coloring book, crayons, and an orange in the toe of the stocking. The cost was minimal. The expression on her face was priceless. 

Mindfulness is the ability to be conscious or aware of something fully. What would it feel like to be fully in the moment when you're baking cookies, or wrapping gifts? What if a few beautiful, heart-felt decorations brought the beauty and love of the season more fully into your awareness than trying to out-do the neighbors light display? What if taking a few moments on a crisp winter night to go outside and look for the North Star became the focal point of even one evening instead of cruising online shopping sites? 

This season I give you the Gift of Mindfulness to help you to be fully conscious and aware of the beauty and love this time of year brings. Here's hoping you have the willingness to stop the madness and, instead, accept it all from that place of unconditional love from whence it comes. 

And so it is. 

Happy Tofurky Day!

Every family has that one "different" person, the one that makes you wonder if this was the one that went home with the wrong family from the hospital. If you follow my blog posts and Facebook Fan Pages, it should come as no surprise to you that I am "that one" in my family. The fact that I look exactly like my parents also cancels out the idea of having gone home with the wrong family but, honestly, for most of  my life I swear I thought it was true.

For example, I was the only one with imaginary friends that I kept up a running conversation with regardless of where we were, even in the grocery store. I was the only one who, at the age of six, saw nothing wrong with lecturing our parish priest on how the idea of babies being born into original sin was just plain wrong. I was the first one in my family to go all rock and roll, complete with Beatle haircut and black wardrobe (my father was constantly asking me who died). I marched in Washington, D.C. on behalf of the ERA and embarrassed my mother when, at the age of 35, having gone back to college to get my degree, I picketed the luncheon on campus for the college trustees and alumni to get them to divest their investments out of South Africa when Nelson Mandela was in prison. Yeah, so, I'm definitely that "one" in my family.

Now, at the age of 66, you'd think I'd have calmed down a bit. Wrong! I still support causes and speak out openly against injustices. I live my life by my own set of beliefs, and if that makes some folks uncomfortable, or wondering if I'm entirely sane, that's their issue, not mine. Which brings me to Thanksgiving ... in particular, how does one celebrate this holiday when one is vegan?

Going vegan was a choice of conscience. I won't go into gory details here. All you have to do is go on Netflix or YouTube and watch some of the documentaries. In fact, FMTV (Food Matters TV) has been running a free week of just such videos. In any case, that's where I put a great deal of my support right now, on issues of animal rights and animal cruelty. I don't expect everyone in my family to hop on my bandwagon, nor do I expect them to go out of their way to accommodate me at family gatherings. My youngest daughter, however, is doing just that for me this year. She got me a Tofurky (vegan non-meant turkey roast) all my own. She is also making a separate stuffing in addition to the family recipe my mother passed down for sausage stuffing. She is making sure there are plenty of appetizers that don't contain cheese, and my oldest granddaughter is making crab dip with fake crab ... all just for me.

So this year I am extra, extra thankful for all that I have. I live in a country where it is okay to be the odd one in the family because we odd ones are the ones that move the world forward out of the darkness. I am thankful for the opportunity to show my love and support for all living things. I am thankful for family and friends who support me and go out of their way to help me be me. Most of all, this year I am thankful for the folks who make Tofurky for giving me my very own, special Thanksgiving! You are helping save the planet and making a whole lot of people happy at the same time!

If you know someone who is the odd one in your family, or, if that person is you, then give them or yourself a great, big pat on the back and give thanks for a world that produces such gems. Just remember: when things get dark, we're the ones that become the spark!

Happy Thanksgiving. And so it is.

Walking Our Talk

I'm writing a second blog post this week to share with the Wisdom Bloggers Sisterhood in response to recent events in the world. We have decided to flood the site this week with positive messages of hope and peace as our way of spreading these truths and energies around the world.

I woke up yesterday morning determined to sit down and write this post, determined to make yesterday a beautiful, bountiful, peace-filled day. Then the phone rang. My adult daughter was on the other end of the line in tears... someone had broken into their house while they were sleeping and robbed them. All of my good feelings and "give peace a chance" intentions went right out of the window! How dare someone do that to my family? How dare they scare my grandchildren like that? How dare they invade the sanctity of my daughter's home? I was beyond angry. If I'd had the perpetrators in front of me, I'd probably have gotten myself arrested!

As the day progressed and I sat waiting for updates from her, I mindlessly scrolled down Facebook reading all of the messages of love and hope, and little by little I started to realize what I had done, or, more accurately, what I had failed to do: I had failed to beat them at their own game. I had bought into the fear and hatred and had come up all the poorer for it. No one had gotten hurt. Something spooked them off before they got much more than my daughter's purse. It would entail hours and hours of phone calls to cancel bank and credit cards, and a trip to DMV to get a new license, but everyone was safe.

It's one thing to chant peace slogans when it's not happening to you. It's quite another when your life has taken a hit like that. For a while I let all the "what ifs" take over my imagination until I had to go outside and walk it off before I lost my mind. Standing in the beautiful autumn sunshine, listening to the cows on the farm next door, I felt a shift take place. Hatred left and gratitude took its place. Hatred can't win if we refuse to hate back. The bad guys lose if we refuse to stop forgiving them. If the ones who robbed my daughter were that hard up, how awful for them. If they were hopped up on drugs, I pray for an end to their pain. Love wins, Love always wins. It always has and it always will, and that's what some folks in the world just don't get.


We've got to walk our talk. Sure, we can't just sit by and open our doors to the terror and hatred, but we can surround our lives with love, and forgiveness, and compassion, and peace. We've got to be the light in the darkness, the ones who show others the way. We ARE the world, corny as that may sound. So what talk will you walk out into the world today?

Harvesting My Life

I always have such mixed emotions when harvest time comes around. On the one hand, I am happy to see all of my hard work bear fruit - and veggies! On the other hand, my days of working outdoors in the sun accompanied by birdsong and cows calling are coming to an end. They will be replaced with time spent indoors all warm and cozy while soups bubble on the stove, and my yarn and crochet hooks lay in the bag next to my chair waiting for me to turn them into Christmas gifts of slippers and mittens.

I picked the last of the harvest a few weeks ago. I walked out one autumn morning to see the blueberry bushes from the blueberry farm across the way all standing naked and pruned amidst a sea of green tinged with light frost like silent soldiers, their work done for this year. Down below the sun sent sparkling crystal shards across the surface of the pond while all around the noisy geese talked among themselves, probably taking a vote to see if it was time to move on to the next leg of their journey south. The scent of wood smoke from the farmhouse nearby wafted past my nose and the air was suddenly filled with the thunderous flapping of hundreds of starlings that rose out of the pine trees like a huge black cloud to perform their aerial ballet against a crisp blue sky.

Harvest time is that part of the gardening year when you get to see what worked, what didn't work, what needs to be pulled and discarded, and what can be turned under to nourish the soil over the winter. My tomatoes did well, as did my lettuce. Basil and parsley was a bumper crop, and my spearmint continues to grow like a weed in the pot in my kitchen. The lavender has been a touch and go situation. I got different plants from different nurseries, and it is apparent which one I will be giving my business to next year, and which one did not have plants hardy enough to withstand the wind and cold up on this hill. Some of the other flowers and herbs just didn't make the cut and they have been pulled out and sent to the compost pile. Everywhere else, the soil has been turned and the falling leaves have reinvented themselves as mulch. The outside garden is done for the year, so now I'm turning my attention to my inner garden.

What worked for me this year? What bloomed and created bounty for me, and what just did not manifest because it was not meant to, or because the time was not right? Which beliefs held up and carried me forward, and which had to be pulled and discarded because they no longer served me? Which ones can I hang on to, turning them over in the soil of my soul to nurture and grow the next sets of intentions I plant there? What will I plant next year to bloom in place of the beliefs that withered and died from the top to the roots?

This is the perfect time of the year to harvest our lives. As we prepare for the celebration of Thanksgiving next week, it only makes sense that, while we are giving thanks for all that we have and all that has worked in our lives this year, we also take stock of what hasn't worked and what changes we need to make in our own gardens to have even more to be thankful for next year. Each year will, of course, have its ups and downs, its bounties and its weeds. The true gardener who practices her craft with love and good intentions will likely end up with even more wonderful things to harvest every year.

And so it is.