I started drawing this afternoon - funny little birds in cages. I have all those finches, of course, living in their cages near the dining room window. Maybe that's what got me started, but I don't think so. These are different birds and these are different cages.It was Wescott Christmas this weekend, with all of Kirsten's extended family in from near and far for a weekend of frenzied fun. They always get together on the weekend before Christmas - and while this year, rightfully, we should have gone to Gainesville, Georgia for the party, everyone came here for reasons I will explain later...
In birth order, starting with the oldest of Kirsten's siblings, (all siblings will be bolded for clarity) the celebration included: Vicky and her husband Paul, Jennifer (V&P's oldest daughter) and Jennifer's sons Zach (17? and in the ROTC and his girlfriend Brook) and Jameson (2 - yes, that is not a typo!). V&P's other daughter is Gretchen - she is married to Bill - and while they have no children, (although Bill has two grown children from a previous marriage) they do have Gus - a wonderful little dog - who appears to be quite fond of Annie (our chocolate lab) and Henry (our lost and found Pekingese). Gus came for the weekend, too. Now, then, Ande and Jimmy, their son Jamie and his wife Eang, their two children, Harrison and Olivia. Then add Robin (A&J's daughter) and her boyfriend Adam and his son Marcus. Robin brought her friend Gemee (I don't know how to spell her name) and her children E-J and Jordan. And of course, Dusty and Fran and Margie and Charlie and then Kirsten and me. We had the grand-babies overnight (Jennifer and Duane and Tess and Tate are off to Disney World for a week, and since Jenn and Duane still sing in their band, the babies were here and they picked them up at 6am to make their 7:30 flight from RDU). So when I add it all up, including birds and dogs - let's see - at moments there were 36 sentient beings in this little house at one time. Just to set your mind at ease, no, they did not all sleep here!
There were cookies and sodas and martinis and a lot of red wine, white wine, and a trip to the Dog House around the corner for their very odd red hot dogs with all the fixins'. Fran hosted dinner and the gift exchange - with Turkey and Ham and mashed potatoes. Ande made macaroni salad and deviled eggs and this marvelous dessert with chocolate pudding, cool whip, and brownies that melts in your mouth and does something wonderful to your spirit as well. I made last-minute, doctored-up green beans - the Southern way - with fried bacon and onion and salt and pepper in the pan with the beans and the water, cooked until they are well, they are still green, but just barely! Oh, and Adam and Marcus brought some sort of quesadilla cheese dip that you swear you will only have a little of and say so every time you go back for more. Jennifer (Zach's mom) brought an enormous box of cookies - a box big enough to put away all your winter hats, scarves, gloves, and socks - though not big enough to include the sweaters! All homemade, from peanut butter kisses to chocolate chip to rice krispy squares. And yes, almost all the food was gone by the end of the day.
The decision to hold Wescott Christmas in North Carolina again this year, when, as I mentioned, rightfully, we should have been in Georgia, was made because of Ande's recent neurosurgery. The scar is big - though healing well - and she seems to be recovering at a record pace (she has been Christmas shopping several times since she was released from the hospital two weeks ago).
I love this family. It is big and loud and raucous and their love for one another (and for me) is profound. There is something that is both exhausting and encouraging about being with them all, all at once. No conversations are ever complete - every story is filled with interruptions. There is always a need to run to the store for one more thing - and often a need to go shopping in some general sense, for this, for that, for anything. There is a lot of laughter and a lot of hugging and a lot of joy and chaos and magic in it. A magic that I hope I am learning from them.
It is particular. It is remarkable. I find myself silent and exhausted when they leave, and I know my children are coming home for the holidays and we will be together too. As I wait for their arrival, I find myself so aware of how powerful a big family and a big familial love can be. It is not that there are no conflicts or dramas or eye rolling...of course, all those things are part of the time. It is not all smooth sailing - things spill and the boat rocks. But, behind it all is the absolute assurance that this family will be there for one another...no matter what.
On Tuesday of this coming week, we will get up early and head to the hospital for the Kirsten's biopsy. I am not looking forward to it and neither is she. But somehow, knowing that this band of Wescotts will be there for us, with us, in it, facing it, whatever it is, down with us - made Wescott Christmas extra special for me this year. There is a verse in the King James Version of the Bible - Psalm 68.6, I think - somewhere deep in the psalms, embedded in among more familiar lines - that reads: The Lord has set the solitary into families.
Left to my own devices, I am pretty confident that I would be solitary - and yet, the Lord set me into this family...this wide and deep and loud and wonderful family. I am so grateful. Sometimes I feel like the "odd bird" in the mix, coming from such a small and reserved family. But, I also feel loved and loving when I am with them. It is remarkable and I am convinced it is something only God could have done with my life. Without this resetting, I think I might be more or less like the blue bird in the funky cage... a big old bird in a little cage.
It is the fourth Sunday of Advent and here we are.... Everyone has gone back to their homes, the street is dark and quiet. I am headed into the kitchen to make a little dinner, feed the dogs, pick up a little bit more, pour a glass of wine, and light the fourth candle in the advent wreath on the dining room table. Emily arrives in the morning - she will go with us to the hospital, and I will let you know how it goes.
But, in the meantime, 'know what?
I wish you were here.
Love you
Amanda
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