Season’s Greetings To One & All
“Look well to the growing edge! All around us worlds are dying and new worlds are being born; all around us life is dying and life is being born. The fruit ripens on the tree, the roots are silently at work in the darkness of the earth against a time when there shall be new leaves, fresh blossoms, green fruit. Such is the growing edge! It is the extra breath from the exhausted lung, the one more thing to try when all else has failed, the upward reach of life when weariness closes in upon all endeavor. This is the basis of hope in moments of despair, the incentive to carry on when times are out of joint and men have lost their reason, the source of confidence when worlds crash and dreams whiten into ash. The birth of the child — life’s most dramatic answer to death — this is the growing edge incarnate. Look well to the growing edge!”
— Dr. Howard Thurman
We’ve just passed the winter solstice. The world has leaned back on its axis to its furthest point and now begins its return as the hours of light expand day by day. I have to be honest, I’ve wrestled with this Christmas Eve post - I wrestle with holiday writing, sometimes I wrestle with holidays in general. Things get so busy and at some point in the course of the season my introverted nature simply tuckers out or occasionally melts down. I’m all in with embracing what and whom we love. I’m all for claiming generosity, joy and hope as a life-giving response to the weight of what is weary and hard edged in our lives and in the world. But I wrestle with cultural expectations of perfect soft focus gatherings and sugar cookie sweet nativity scenes.
At this time of year, I long to celebrate the stories of miracles, wonder and everyday awe, celebrating “the birth of the child — life’s most dramatic answer to death”. I think of the Christmas story not as a soft focus Hallmark movie, but as a deeper, wilder story that is essentially a call to courage, perseverance, love made visible, and the welcoming of the stranger - which is hard and human and often kind of messy.
The name of the new album is A Great Wild Mercy. While writing the songs for this collection I wanted to acknowledge the stories and events that disturb my sleep, “when times are out of joint and men have lost their reason”. But also to dig deep into what is still fine and true in my life and in the world, what is still wild and merciful, unpredictable and yet sure and available.
I remember a conversation with two pastors serving two different congregations in Denver. Christmas is a very busy season for pastors, usually non-stop from Advent all the way through to the new year. They described how every year, when they both finished their respective Christmas Eve midnight services, they went to a favorite local restaurant/bar located near their home. When the bar closed at 2am they would hold Christmas Eve service for anyone still in the bar. The owner and these two wonderful women would put a cloth on the pool table and light candles. They would hold hands around the table, tell a story of weary travelers on a weary night far from home, they would sing a few songs and say a prayer of blessing. I asked them both why they decided to do this each year, when they were probably totally exhausted from all the responsibilities of the season. Instead of giving me an answer, they asked me a question, “Who needs a little hope and care more than the folks who are alone and closing down a bar on Christmas eve?”
They went on to tell me of how last Christmas Eve there had been a somewhat intimidating looking young man seated at the end of the counter covered in tattoos and piercings. He ended up staying after hours and stood in the circle with the other Christmas Eve refugees. After the gathering ended with a quiet Silent Night, the young man turned to one of the pastors and with soft eyes said, “you know, my mom would have loved this.”
Most nativity crèches feature an immaculate barn, with a doting father with a well trimmed hipster beard, a beautiful woman dressed impeccably in blue. Outside, happy shepherds are looking up at the North Star and a gossamer angel oversees the arrival of three very wealthy travelers on camels. The baby is never cold or shivering in the open barn or shed, but laying quietly on the softest looking blanket.
But the story actually takes place in a country under the control of a Roman military superpower. The “perfect” parents were most likely quite young and newly married, but the new bride was already nine months pregnant. You can do the math - as the gossips in their little rural town probably did. So close to her due date, there’s no way they wanted to go on this trip. But the powers that be decided taxes are taxes, people had to be counted, and so they were forced to travel to a place where they had no friends or family. People just had to take time off, which was especially hard for those living pay check to pay check. The roads would have been full of migrants, refugees and travelers, all the hotels were full and expensive. When they reached the little town where they would be counted, they had to have been tired and dusty, the young woman was probably very uncomfortable, her bones must have ached, her feet swollen and balance off. Just when things seemed pretty darn hard, it would turn out that all hotels, hostels, motels and air b&bs were booked up. There was not a single room available in town and they only had a donkey, and so no car to sleep in. They were homeless for the night and that would have been then the labor pains started.
Then the first miracle arrived in an act of kindness. I imagine the wife of the inn owner upon seeing the dilemma of the young couple, nudging her elderly husband and reminded him of the birth of their own first child. If they didn’t step up and do something the couple’s baby would be born on this bitterly cold night by the side of the road or in a muddy field. She might have brought the couple some threadbare blankets and flat bread she’d made that morning. The inn keeper would have let them know they could shelter for the night in their old pole barn. It wasn’t pretty but it was dry-ish and they would have a roof over their heads. So the young parents would have walked passed the broken farm equipment and tools scattered around the yard and into a small farm shed that smelled of donkey, cow, geese, goats and last season’s musty straw. Because there was no midwife, and the young husband was a pretty regular dude for his time, the young wife was going to have to deliver this baby herself. They both must have been at wits end and afraid. She may have longed for her mother, but they were at least sheltered while she labored.
Then the second miracle happened, a new child born to desperate, despised, weary people. “The birth of the child — life’s most dramatic answer to death — this is the growing edge incarnate.” I imagine the old inn keeper’s wife standing in the doorway of the motel office, tears in her eyes as she heard the first small cry of the young couple’s tiny infant. I imagine her husband joining her at the doorway, listening with all his might (as he was a bit deaf ) and his eyes also grew wet when he made out the soft sound of a new baby. I can see them standing hand in hand nodding to one another, not because the situation was easy or clean or pretty or perfect. They smiled because when all seemed very dark and uncertain in their lives, their country and town, a new baby was born, an expression of hope, turning this dark dangerous time into an night of courage, of welcoming the stranger, of miracle and possibility….and the kind of joy that sustains.
The Christmas story is a wild story, its not sugary and easy. It is the kind of story that reminds us to have courage, to be kinder and more compassionate, a reminder that cruelty echoes, but that kindness also echoes —sometimes for generations. It reminds us to expect a miracle or two, to welcome stranger and to not judge by appearances, weather a young couple far from home or folks singing Silent Night around a pool table at 2am. It is a reminder that children are still being born each day into uncertain places, war torn countries, poverty and danger, and that our true work in this life is to make the world safer for every holy child born into it. And, that even when the night is cold and dark, there is a star that still points true north.
Carrie’s Wild Creche
This is a photo of my creche. It started with my mother’s creche from when I was a kid. Most likely picked up at a local Five & Dime store. When my daughter was little I began to add a few extra characters…snoopy, shawn the sheep, princess Leah and an Ent. But then friends found the extra characters charming and began to give me creche characters - Spock, Aslan, Frodo, Harry Potter, Bob Ross, Waldo, Cindy Lou Who, rhinos and giraffes, Amelia Earhart, and more. Its definitely become a very wild collection. Risk of offending someone, I’m posting the photo, with a big thank you to everyone who contributed.
Question
What is the wild story you are longing to tell or hear today? Do you have a wild story that acknowledges struggle but affirms goodness?
Is there someone you’d like to see next year in my wild creche?
Music For The Season - Mine and Some of My Personal Favs
Here is a link to a song of mine called “The Long Christmas Dinner.” I wrote the song after seeing the Thornton Wilder Play of the same name. The production I saw was performed on a very spare stage. There were two doors on opposite sides of the stage with a long table at center stage. During the course of the play people enter from one side, they are spend time at the table, years pass but it is always Christmas dinner. People are born, they get married, some went to war, some never came back, some grew very old and eventually walked out through the other door. The image of the long table, and the progression of time, the people we love…and how brilliant and brief it all is stayed with me. Thank you to David Weber and Krista Detor for the lovely harmonies and piano on this record.
Krista Detor’s - The Silver Wood: Winter Songs
I have loved this album for many years. It’s beautiful, transcendent and at times, laugh out loud funny.
Beth Nielsen Chapman - Hymns
This is not specifically a holiday album. Its a collection by Beth Neilson Chapman of Hymns and carols. Beautiful any time of year. But I’ve had it on repeat lately.
Worthwhile TV - On a Winter Night
I watched Mike Birbiglia: The Old Man & The Pool. If you are not familiar with Mike Birbiglia he’s a wonderfully insightful and laugh out loud funny comedian, storyteller, director and actor. This is his newest show “The Old Man and the Pool” take on life’s big questions: why are we here? What’s next? Exactly how much chlorine are they putting in the YMCA pool?” Its a bit about mortality, but also about how important it is to express love in the here and now. Its on Netflicks. A beautiful ending.
Books
Holy smokes is Ross Gay’s newest book “The Book of (more) Delights” wonderful! I finished it and started re-reading immediately.
Poetry
My friend Brittany Haas turned me onto this collection and author. I’ve been very much enjoying it. Thanks Britt! All The Honey by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer
Regarding the additional figure to your creche: How about a folk singer? Someone with a guitar, or even a banjo or fiddle...... Pete Seeger comes to mind..... but, if you have an action figure of yourself, that might be wonderful, too. :^)
Have a glorious Holiday Season, Carrie.
Hope to see you in 2024.
This is beautiful! I so appreciate that you wrote this:
“sometimes I wrestle with holidays in general. Things get so busy and at some point in the course of the season my introverted nature simply tuckers out or occasionally melts down. I’m all in with embracing what and whom we love. I’m all for claiming generosity, joy and hope as a life-giving response to the weight of what is weary and hard edged in our lives and in the world. But I wrestle with cultural expectations of perfect soft focus gatherings and sugar cookie sweet nativity scenes.”
So often I feel Christmas and other holidays have gone off the rails. Your post today and your songs bring me back to what’s real and what’s worth remembering. Thank you!