
I remember a Christmas Story in one of Laura Ingalls Wilder's Books.
Their Pa had gone out in a terrible storm. He was supposed to be home with needed staples (food) and was late. They weren't even sure what day it was, but they were not too concerned with that. What they wanted was their Pa's safe arrival home. He did, indeed come home on Christmas day. He'd been detained because of the horrific storm.
They were overjoyed that their Pa was safely home with the help, I think, of their neighbor, Mr. Edwards. They had a simple dish that they were so happy to have and Pa brought them a single candy stick each. They were happy with it. That winter was cruel and daunting for them, but they made it. Their family stayed true to each other. Of course their need existed, but the simplicity of the story comes back. I haven't seen a life like that. Simply, primal with necessities that preceded anything we know, but still, simply elegant in the imagination, their simplicity of a season and a holiday.
I may not have the exact details of the story; or be even close, I do apoligize if this offends. Otherwise, I am happy to share my simple and sacred imagining. I couldn't find my old book to be sure of her words compared to my memory of that particular story, but the nature it brought me exudes life.
Giving thanks for my simplicity of this year,
Merry Christmas!
Allison
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