Christmas' meaning is found in the
anticipation
Lori Borgman | Monday, December 15, 2008
When the kids started leaving home and making
homes of their own, a friend said not to view it as a loss but as
a shifting of gears. “Now you anticipate the times when they return.”
‘Tis the season of anticipation.
It is an anticipation marked by a flurry
of activity in the kitchen with the scents and aromas of holiday
baking emanating from the oven. Melted chocolate drips down the
side of a pan on the stove and dirty cookie sheets fill the sink.
Anticipation hovers throughout the washing and
drying of sheets, making beds, plumping pillows and throwing open
a window to freshen a room.
Anticipation heightens as the house is set in
order, candles are lit and the glassware sparkles.
By planes, trains and automobiles, they will suddenly
converge. Anticipation will burst into laughter and shouting, a
neurotic dog barking, suitcases lugged through the front door and
up the stairs.
The kitchen that was cleaned reverts to a state
of disarray. The once tidy bedrooms bulge with luggage, computer
bags, rumpled beds, instant piles of laundry and coats and scarves
draped over chairs.
Wet towels hang from every bar and hook in the
bathroom and bottles of shampoo, conditioner and body wash ring
the perimeter of the tub.
My parents used to say when our brood descended
for a holiday it took them 24 hours to get used to the commotion
we brought with us and another 24 hours to get used to the quiet
when we left.
Whether it is the home where we live now, or the
home where we grew up, we anticipate the arrival -- from the click
of the blinker as it signals a turn, to the jostle of the car as
it pulls into the drive and rolls to a stop.
For those separated by continents and seas, anticipation
is relentless. Our daughter, whose husband is in Iraq, might as
well have a countdown calendar stapled to her shirt.
He anticipates too, from a tent outside of Baghdad
with a 99-cent glittering Christmas tree that arrived by mail. Like
every soldier, he anticipates home one day at a time.
During World War II, Bing Crosby crooned “I’ll
Be Home for Christmas,” into a holiday classic. Six decades later
the lyrics still capture the heart of longing.
I’ll be home for Christmas, you can plan on
me. Please have snow and mistletoe, and presents on the tree. Christmas
Eve will find me where the love light gleams. I’ll be home for Christmas,
if only in my dreams.
A child’s anticipation at this time of year borders
on agony. Children are tormented by the sheer volume of possibilities.
What boy or girl hasn’t anticipated Christmas morning with such
intensity as to hear sleigh bells outside the window and reindeer
on the roof?
During Advent, Catholics pray the Christmas Novena,
also known as the Christmas Anticipation Prayer. Moravians host
the Love Feast, a meal of anticipation.
Anticipation is woven throughout the Christmas
story. The Magi doggedly anticipated the birth of Christ by charting
the paths of the stars and trekking across the desert. Mary and
Joseph had nine bewildering months in which to anticipate a mysterious
birth.
We all grouse and grumble that Christmas begins earlier and
earlier each year, and it surely does. But in another light,
maybe we’re just lengthening the season of anticipation.
