How COVID didn’t steal Christmas | by Linda Brendle
I’ve loved Dr. Seuss since I heard him read “Horton Hears a Who” on the radio before I started to school. One of my favorites, especially this time of the year, is “How the Grinch Stole Christmas” – both the book and the movie. I love this quote that comes when the Grinch hears the sounds of Christmas bells and joyful singing even after he has stolen all the decorations, gifts, and goodies.
“And the Grinch, with his Grinch-feet ice cold in the snow,
stood puzzling and puzzling, how could it be so?
It came without ribbons. It came without tags.
It came without packages, boxes or bags.
And he puzzled and puzzled ’till his puzzler was sore.
Then the Grinch thought of something he hadn’t before.
What if Christmas, he thought, doesn’t come from a store.
What if Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more.”
― Dr. Seuss, How the Grinch Stole Christmas!
The Christmas season started late for David and me when our ten-day quarantine began on November 28. We both did a little online shopping while we stayed in, but not enough to get us in the spirit. It was the texts, calls, and emails from friends checking to see if we needed anything that brought a little cheer to our COVID jail.
Leaving the house after ten days was enough to put us both in a better mood, and the Christmas lights that had appeared since our last outing kindled a few warm, fuzzy feelings. I still wasn’t up to teaching the ladies’ Wednesday morning Bible Study the first week, but when we gathered the following week, it was like Christmas to see everyone again. Then, Joanie gave me a bag with some hand cream that smelled so good – and I could actually smell it – and some fudge Charlie had made. Her sweet gesture really woke up my holiday feelings, and the fudge started visions of sugar plums dancing in David’s head.
That Friday, the Rains County Leader hosted its annually open house, and we stopped by to admire the amazing Christmas village and to say hello. While we were there, Bill and Susan came in, and they had news of a Christmas miracle. Early in the year, before the virus became a real pandemic, Bill developed a persistent cough. He had a multitude of tests, including several nose swabs, with no definitive diagnosis. His cough became so serious that he was hospitalized, and then his kidneys shut down and he was put on dialysis. The short version is that, after several weeks of out-patient dialysis, his kidneys began working again. And the day before the open house, his port was removed and he was officially free.
Bill’s miracle along with two other friends who were released from the hospital after a few scary days fully awakened the last bits of Christmas spirit that were hiding in the corners. The next morning I woke up with “O Come All Ye Faithful” running through my head. I went online and found a half-hour Christmas video by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir and Orchestra – nice background music for breakfast. Later in the day, I pulled out the little metal Christmas tree I use to display bookmarks when I have a booth at a show or market. It’s leans a bit to the right and looks like something out of a Charlie Brown special, but with a few of my angels hanging from its curlicue branches and a few candles surrounding it, it looks rather festive sitting on the counter between the living room and the kitchen. Best of all, Kitty has no interest in it whatsoever.
Our home group met Friday night for the first time in several weeks. As usual, we had lots of food, and then we had a white elephant gift exchange, the kind that involves stealing gifts and can get pretty lively. Ours involved lots of laughter spurred on by the antics of David who had been chosen to be the M.C. of the game. But most of all, there was a lot of love.
There was a lot of love at church on Sunday morning, too, and if felt like Christmas. It’s about time since this is Christmas week. It won’t be the same rush of conflicting events that require hard choices and diplomatic explanations of your absence at some of them, but we will still celebrate. Tuesday night Perkins is coming over to watch the last episode of Season 2 of The Mandalorian – and he’s grilling steaks. And Thursday night we’ll attend the Christmas Eve service at Believers’ Baptist. David and I will celebrate Christmas morning together and then prepare lunch for the same neighbors who shared our Thanksgiving meal.
This won’t be a “normal” Christmas, but Christmas will come nonetheless. COVID may have stolen the Christmas concerts, the holiday parades and craft shows, and some of the things that come from the store. Some family gatherings may be smaller, including only the nuclear instead of the extended group, and there may even be empty places at some tables. But the music in the soul, the love in the heart, and the joy in the indomitable spirit is still there. And the Christmas Child can still be found by those who seek him.
Merry Christmas from the Brendles
A Tale of Two Cities, the epic historical novel by Charles Dickens, begins with a famous opening sentence: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. If you ask most people which of these two choices would best describe 2020 so far, a huge majority would probably choose the latter. Up until last week, I would have readily agreed – but now I’m not so sure.
My first column of this year was titled “Welcome 2020!” I mentioned that a number of marketing firms seemed poised to launch ad campaigns reminiscent of the Roaring 20’s of the last century. I followed that up by saying “It remains to be seen whether the next ten years roar or whimper.” We have nine and a half years to go, but so far this decade has involved a lot of whining on my part.
Last year, our front porch began to list to the southeast. Investigation showed that the support post on that corner was rotting away. We discussed our options with a local handyman, and several months and several thousand dollars later, we had a beautiful covered porch furnished with an indoor/outdoor rug, two padded rocking chairs and a comfy glider for two. We have spent many happy hours on our new addition, especially during this time of social distancing when God has blessed us with a lot of porch-sitting weather.
recognize. It sounded like someone had pressed a key on a synthesizer and held it for a couple of seconds. The song continued for a minute or two with brief breaks between notes, but I was never able to find the singer. While I was looking for him, I noticed another bird singing what could have been a riff from a doo-wop song. I closed my book for a while and just listened, and I heard more birdsongs than I could count. 
A recent post on Facebook described a perfect example of how our attitude toward time has changed in the last few months. Around 8:30 one evening, the husband of a friend mentioned there were blackberries in the refrigerator that needed to be used before they ruined. About forty-five minutes later as she was putting a cobbler in the oven, he commented that they probably shouldn’t be eating something like that so late in the evening. Her Facebook post read “If he thinks I’m pulling a warm cobbler out of that oven and not eating a bite tonight, he has another think coming.” A later comment indicated that he did think again and that they both had some cobbler before bed. David and I go through a similar routine almost every night now.
Has anyone ever asked you if you’re afraid of death? I think all of us have dealt with that question at some time in our lives, even if it was only in our own minds. My stock answer has been, “I’m not afraid of dying, but I don’t look forward to the process.” Twice in my life I’ve had a chance to test the validity of that answer, and I’d say it pretty much passed the test.
At the risk of being melodramatic, I had a momentary brush with death this week. I’m fine, but of course, I wanted to write about the experience. Before I tell you about it, though, I want to share my feelings about fear. Here’s a piece I wrote a few weeks ago; check back next week for the rest of the story. How’s that for a teaser?
scientific community as well as the prophetic community. According to those forecasts, we should have long since been choked to death by pollution, frozen by a new ice age, drowned by the rising oceans, fried by the loss of the ozone layer, or suffered a worse fate at the hands of an angry God. There were also wars in Vietnam, the Persian Gulf, Afghanistan, and Iraq as well as epidemics like the Asian Flu, Hong Kong Flu, HIV/AIDS, SARS, Ebola, Swine Flu (H1N1), and whatever new type of flu that was impervious to the previous year’s vaccine. 
Linda Brendle's Life After Caregiving 