I’m knitting a blanket for our ninth grandchild, who is due to make an appearance in Houston in December.
When I don’t pay attention, my yarn catches on a chair or table leg or gets wrapped around some other object and I have to interrupt the rhythm of my knitting to free it.
Similarly, the rhythm of my day hums along, until my thoughts get caught on a memory triggered by an unexpected sound, sight or smell
Tuesday we attended Mass at a little parish in McNary, near where we are vacationing. My attention was drawn to a nativity scene, complete with lights, and a decorated Christmas tree near the altar. Not a common sight in July!
Interrupting the rhythm of my usual prayers, the tree and creche transported me back nearly 40 years to a few days before Christmas. Our children each had a role in a Nativity play in our little church community. A shiny foil covered cardboard star surrounded five-year-old Jonathan’s face making him the Star of Bethlehem. Three year old Cana dressed in a gold bell-shaped dress enthusiastically rang bells while we sang Joy to the World. Two-year-old Christopher wore a robe and a head covering depicting a shepherd.
And newborn Evan slept, as Baby Jesus, in the arms of a ten-year-old girl who portrayed Mary.
The tears I shed at the memory were sweet, happy tears, making it easy to return to the familiar rhythm of prayer in the Mass.
We hope to be in Houston to welcome our first December grandchild. I wonder how close this child’s birth will be to Evan’s birthday?
In the meantime, I’m making good progress on the baby blanket.