Dearest Rachel –
In so many ways, it was the sort of Christmas anyone could ask for. A quiet, subdued one, to be sure, but our family hasn’t had little kids running around tearing up the place for the better part of a decade. We all ate way too much (well, except for Dad, and even he made sure he was at least sufficiently fed), but everything was so tasty, it was harder not to have just… one… more… bite… than to keep enjoying everything.
And hey, even with all that, I’m still under the two-fifteen benchmark I set for myself – although admittedly, that was with waking up Christmas morning just under two-ten, so you can still see the results of my indulgence. Not that I’m about to punish myself for that, either; since I’m walking with Lars later today, and I woke up at nearly seven (but while it was still quite dark; I’m not going to miss that once it goes away), there’s not the time to both go to the gym and put in the hour or two at the ‘office’ that I probably should before calling it a day.
While we were all there yesterday, the family did get a chance to discuss the possibility of the folks getting one more chance at traveling – I wanted to see if Jenn and Bill and the kids could work it into their schedule, presumably this summer, since I thought the folks might need the extra assistance. At the same time, I’m not sure we came to any consensus about it; I think the folks think that Daniel and I will be sufficient in that respect. And maybe we will, but I’m also of the opinion that it would be a way to bring the whole family vacation thing full circle by all of us going with – and attending to, as necessary – them on this one more trip together. In any event, I hope to be filling you in with more details as we all flesh them out together.
As for myself, I got everything I asked for this Christmas; in fact, I got at least two of everything, since I needed tighter belts in both brown and black to complement different ensembles, while bedding sets with the deep-pocketed contour sheets come in multiple colors as well that match the bedroom. There aren’t, however, any in purple these days, though; that would seem to be a color that isn’t currently fashionable for home decor, for whatever reason. Still, white and grey go with most everything, so I’ll not count it as a miss.
With all that said, I’m sure you’ll conclude that my request list was fairly small. “Only two things, honey?” you might ask. Well, as I’ve said before, it isn’t as if I have a lot of needs or wants that have to be taken care of – or that I couldn’t manage better for myself, to be honest. There’s also the fact that, while there are things I would like to have, they aren’t the sorts of things one can ask for, as they can’t be purchased or otherwise obtained.
Your dad used to make Christmas shopping difficult for you and your mom, I recall, by insisted that, as long as he had his health, he was all good for the season. Which, of course, made things all that much more challenging in his last few years; while he was fairly healthy for a man in his late eighties, it was clearly failing, and that Christmas wish, impossible for either of you two at the best of times, was slowly getting to be more and more of a forlorn hope as the years went on. I suppose the blessing was that his health didn’t completely fail him over a Christmas, anyway – although that last December finally got him to allow us to set up in-home nursing care for the two of them, anyway.
As for myself, I would often wish for freedom from my job, and having to deal with Mohinder and his unforgiving belief that nothing and no one could be good enough to satisfy him. The man was like an Old Testament deity, despite not being at the top of the food chain himself; he labored under others, so one might expect him to understand having challenging bosses, but no. Still, it was a gift that you managed to give me, albeit at the very opposite end of the year, and we only managed to enjoy it together for some nineteen months (although at the time, we honestly thought we would have decades to do so, understandably).
These intangible requests, while truly the desires of the heart, just aren’t things that can be fulfilled by others within our circle, and as such, we don’t bother to ask for them. At some point, we sometimes even forget to ask the One who is capable of everything for these things. We conclude that He’s gone this long without responding about this or that request, presumably He has determined, in His infinite wisdom, that we should not have it in the first place, so why ask anymore? Or if He has purposed that we should have it, He will give it to us in His own good time, so why pester Him about it? If He’s like us (although why would He have limits to His patience like we do?), wouldn’t He get tired of our asking, and simply harden in His resolve not to give it to us?
So it is for me, as I wake up in a dark and empty (if better-appointed, thanks to yesterday) bedroom. Sure, I could jocularly ask for a wild bikini, and the wherewithal to stuff it (don’t you miss movies with wild titles like that one? I mean, it was rubbish, but you’ve got to admit that the title was inspired), but that’s not something I can expect from anyone, now, is it? Even praying for someone like Megumi to show up doesn’t seem worthwhile; I’ve concluded that “the Lord doesn’t work that way,” even as I realize that, by saying that, I’m putting Him in a box. Who am I to say what He can or cannot, or will or will not, do?
But I can’t treat Him as Santa Claus, either; for all I know, I’m asking for such things with the “wrong motives”; and I can admit to that, to a certain extent. But it does mean that, with that in mind, I no longer bother to ask, and if “you have not because you ask not,” well… what can I expect?
For now, though, I need to be content with the Christmas there has been; the food, fun and family we’ve been able to enjoy, the light in the kids’ eyes as they open their presents, and the promise of days together yet to come, should He tarry and allow. Toward that latter end, honey, I’d ask you to keep an eye on all of us, and wish us luck. On this side of the veil, we’re still going to need it.
Letters to Rachel 