I have been looking at my previous post for a year, since this is the page I come to to find the list of blogs I occasionally visit. There it is, all the charm and whimsy and heart of last year's Christmas celebration. It was deliberate; I purposefully, even viciously, sucked all the life and vitality and magic out of every moment. It was wonderful and a time to treasure.

 This year? Nada. 

Zero interest in decorating or celebrating at all. Not entirely true. Over the weekend we attended the local production of A Christmas Carol, and last night, the community concert. Both were sweet with rumpled dress clothes, a Gatorade beside the trumpet at rest, the silly ties and of course, kids on stage singing and trying to stay in their places and say their lines. But I did not go to revel in the swath of forest and peppermint scented magic that is Christmas energy. 

Instead, we attended to be in community. 

To stand up and hold up those nearest to us as they go out on a little limb purely for our benefit. To appreciate their talent and efforts. To be there. This is not my normal way; I'm a hermit. But I'm a hermit with a penchant for cozy novels where tight communities hassle against one another but come together and pull each other through when it really counts. I suppose it is more George Bailey around here this month than it is Santa. 

Years ago someone told me you don't go to church to find God, you bring God with you. And perhaps Christmas is the same. You don't go into it waiting for Santa to come to your house, you bring him out with you. 

All year long.