[TruthTalk] Fw: over Christmas

[Lance Muir]

----- Original Message ----- From: Debbie Sawczak To: Lance Muir Sent: December 27, 2005 17:40 Subject: over Christmas I'll never say these things so I'm writing them.   It was fun going down to QV in the darkness and rain with all the streets alight on Sunday evening. We invited the kids along but they were engrossed in new books and CDs and other gift-related activities, so we went by ourselves. Jan had got me a double CD by Kate Bush (whom I have never really listened to before), so we didn't talk but listened to her as we drove--quite lovely, and the melody and instruments and the sound of her voice fit the mood exactly: so intensely calm as if backing up a movie scene in which the characters are on the brink of some huge event of which they are completely oblivious. The city, especially at night with all the lights, has always seemed that way to me, like someone acting confident but not knowing what is really going on. At Christmas that feeling is even stronger. After getting coffee we followed Bloor out of the city and drove in a straight line seemingly forever in this calm and through this forest of lights, their gleam reflected in the wet streets. There was a big tiger on Bloor Street composed entirely of tiny lights. At one point I drifted into almost-sleep but I could still hear the music. I like the city, but I also like the unlit countryside going up 9th Line north of Steeles.   Yesterday when I came home after spending the day in the store, Jan had bought groceries--he does this whenever he gets a hankering for the stuff I don't buy--and was starting to make supper. He shooed us all downstairs and when he called us up, there was a candlelit dinner laid attractively on plates like the ones you see on a menu: lamb chops (I never buy lamb) with garlic and lemon, asparagus, potatoes roasted with sweet peppers, and wine. Just because, apparently. Afterwards Aaron and I played crokinole, that quintessentially Canadian game that for me is part of the season because it always surfaced at the Martin family reunion held at Christmastime; my uncles were masters. I was winning at first, but Aaron pulled ahead and beat me and was proud and exultant and magnanimous at the same time.   On Christmas Eve when my sister-in-law Christine and her family were over, I saw at once that our 14-year-old niece Carly was already "past" the gifts we had chosen for her. Kids change so quickly and suddenly at that age, or at least girls seem to, as she is different every time we see her. Not being a mother of girls and never having been one myself, I mean a regular one, I never know quite what to expect. She is heavily into grunge dressing now, with some eclectic touches such as a large floppy pink bow on the side of her head and colourfully striped socks on her forearms and wrists with the feet cut out of them and a hole cut into the side for her thumb. The effect is sort of like a cast only not plaster. She had sewn little bows on these socks. A few gothic touches completed the outfit--fingernails painted black, and a black journal she carries around in which she writes grim teenage-girl emo poetry and vampire stories, and on whose cover she had written dark quotes in silver ink. Jan is her godfather and is a little worried about the vampire stories. But she is still sweet and not sour. I watched her hang around Luke who is the same age. It is a bit surprising, as he is quite old-fashioned. You'd think she'd prefer Cas, the bohemian. But he is not as romantic as Luke and has moved beyond the Byronic twilight of early teendom.   Luke's conservatism and romanticism includes his taste for classical music. He has developed an unusual custom lately to ensure he brushes his teeth the requisite three minutes every night (as per the orthodontist, with whom Jan barters services). He puts on a piece of music of approximately that duration and walks about the living room brushing his teeth until it is over. It is usually some epic classical piece, played good and loud. It fills our little house. On Christmas night in honour of the season it was a chorus from the Messiah. Before Easter I must introduce him to Bach's St Matthew's Passion.   Meanwhile our nephew Ryan, not quite 8, bounces around like a wolf cub, seeking attention and making noise while the Big Kids exchange patient glances.   It is fascinating and challenging watching these people grow, and trying to wake in them a desire for the City that continues (Heb 13:14). We are still trying to learn its culture ourselves...   D