WAITING

   Waiting had never been a strong point for me. You should see me just before a meal!

   However, I do recall what it was like waiting for Christmas as a

child. Wondering about my presents. I didn’t know until I was

grown that my Grandpa had bought the dolls Santa gave me.

I remember my Dad reading out loud the Charles Dickens’ book, The Christmas Carol. He stood in front of the fireplace

and read one chapter a night in his deep rich voice. I can still see him there as we whiled away the time “waiting” for Santa. My Dad told us of having candles on his tree when he was a child, since his Mom was from Germany. Our mantel was frosted with cotton batting and various houses that had snow in them. Living in San Francisco, I had no idea about that white stuff that was supposed to be cold.

   One year we went north to visit family friends in the little town where my mom was born, Susanville, to celebrate our Christmas. My grandparents, my uncle Phil, my parents, my sister and I were looking forward to snow. But for all the waiting, that was not to be. It was just cold. Santa still managed to give me a beautiful doll that I still have.

   Now I am grown; I am waiting for the disease of Alzheimer’s to take its final toll on my Mom as it did on my Dad. This waiting is not like the wait for Christmas. However, I have learned to take this slow and to treasure the time we do have together, even if Mom is not like she used to be. I always feel and remember her love for me, even when she is confused. And that is the greatest gift of all—the love of a family for one another, no matter what the event or circumstance. Thank you, Dear God.

Every generous act of giving, with every perfect gift, is from above,

coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation

or shadow due to change.

--James 1:17

                                                                                                            --Phyllis H. Rhyner