These pictures are from last year, but we have about the same amount of snow on the ground here in Illinois now. I have not quite come to the realization that a new year has just begun. Winter break is a very difficult month for me, because the days all seem to drag on together into a blur of cold fingers and the busyness that being home for the holidays entails. I found Christmas to be somewhat paradoxical this year. On the one hand, how beautiful to celebrate the incarnation of our Savior, Jesus Christ. On the other hand, the materialism of the season weighed heavy on my heart. I had a very difficult time shaking free a frenzied desire to get rid of half my possessions. Of course I am grateful for people's gifts, but "stuff" is becoming more and more of a burden to me. It reminds me of more wistful dreams I had when I was a little girl about running off to the wilderness and living off the land, with only what I needed to survive. But, then, next thing I know, I am at the mall desiring such and such a sweater or new pair of shoes. I am such a hypocrite. But I truly do want to cut back on the amount of stuff I buy and accumulate. The following poem is one I wrote last winter break, as I pondered some similar doubts about the whole "merry" part of Christmas. I was attending a choir concert that my younger brothers were in, and thinking back to when I was in that same children's choir, and how idealistic and innocent I was. It occurred to me that I had become more cynical as I had gotten older, and I wanted to return to that more child-like view of the world.

"Peace on Earth"

I stare at the brick walls and acoustically-sound panels of

The auditorium
Glimmering with the bright glare of
Christmas—the multi-colored bulbs, the hot lights that
Blaze over the choir, lights that once blazed over me
Years ago.
I was happy then, so caught up in the Christmas Spirit,
So caught up in those joyous days where I sang so hard I thought my
Heart might burst.
I was enthralled by the moment, enthralled by the cheering
Crowd of parents and relatives
Enthralled by the sound of our voices
Ringing through the room, ringing across the snow and the blue night
As we walked to our cars after the concert.
I thought those days would be treasured among the best of my
Memories for a thousand years.
I thought I would forever mourn the day those happy days ended.
But I moved on, I guess, because here I am again, but this time as a
Spectator, and the reality of things presses hard upon me-
The problems with the administration, the unpaid tuition,
The misplacement of the flowers on the stage.
Singing is not easy apparently.
And neither is anything else in life. But maybe, just maybe,
I can recapture my innocent feelings one more time,
Maybe I can remember what Christmas should be like for a brief iota
Of the Sandman's hourglass.
Maybe I can stand in the middle of the night, arms outstretched,
Big, fluffy clumps catching in my eyelashes...
Maybe I can sing "Silent Night"...
As a performer.