We file in,
seat ourselves in ragged rows
and perch on the rims of our chairs,
expectant and perspiring.
The great building
rumbles with the hum
of six-hundred murmured contentments;
bless the air conditioner.
fifty tiny seraphs,
blink into the overhead.
and washes over us;
bless the Christ-child.
This was the weekend when it truly started to feel like Christmas. I went shopping with my mother and sister, my little brother dragged against his will but uncomplaining through crowds that resembled a mental illness. We balanced bags stuffed with purchases on chairs while we ate a late lunch (chicken katsu over rice at my new favourite place). I failed to find shoes for my absurdly strange feet but it didn't make me cry, this time.
This was the weekend when I went to a movie with my sister and soon-brother-in-law. I felt my face frozen in tension at all the scariest spots and knew that James was groaning at the CGI effects, but I suddenly didn't care that, in being swept up by the intensity, I was not Very Grown Up -- and then, ironically, the not caring what other people think made me feel quite grown up indeed.
This was the weekend when I finally had a sleep-in, when I finished a delicious book, when I joined my family for a carols service at our church, when I was reminded of Jesus' message to the captain in Matthew 8: "What you believed could happen has happened."
What was this weekend, for you?