Blended Eve Wontons

I literally am laughing out loud as I breathe in our living room Christmas scene.  We live in an old farm house.  Tall ceilings, black dog curled up before a wood burning stove, also known as a real romantic and cozy fireplace.  In reality it is a real pain in the tush.  It's dirty, it's hard work, it's time consuming - sorry to ruin it for you hopeless romantics, but it is actually the thought of a fireplace you love, not the real deal.  Regardless, somewhere in a covetous rant I gave up feeling sorry for all of the painstaking trouble it has caused me and chose to embrace the approximately half hour of uninterrupted coziness it brings in an evening, before the work of the  "last stoke" dies off and the breeze blowing through the curtains once again robs my toes of circulating blood and summons my reluctant musings back to the reality of leaving the comfort of my couch to fetch a piece of wood...outside.  I act as if I do it each night.  Truth be told, my husband carries much of the burden when he is here.  At any rate,  this is my half hour of pure bliss and I mustn't spoil it by thinking of harsh realities.  Truth is the scene here could be taken right out of a movie.  Okay, judging by the size of the tree my husband cut down, it would probably have to be Christmas Vacation, but hey, the tree taking up a forth of our living space happens to be just breath taking tonight, okay?  All I need now are visions of sugarplums, yet all I can seem to think of are Christmas' past.  That is what made me laugh out loud.  As I sit here intoxicated with cedar fragrance my mind joyfully remembers a Christmas Eve right here in this living room five years ago.  Shaking my head.  It was a cold, blistery night.  Ice sputtered down here and there, promising every Tom, Dick and Harry in this one horse town to be out getting 5 gallons of milk and canned food items.  Not me though.  I hadn't even thought of the weather.  I had just bid farewell to my, then, three year old daughter so she could spend her first "blended" Christmas with her dad and his family.  My heart gasped within me for breath, but there was nothing there to satisfy an inhale of a broken heart.  I was frantic inside.  I had nowhere to escape, yet so much to do.  My body went through all of the motions.  I answered the phone to my even more frantic mother.  It was a reserved frantic.  My mother is NOT the frantic type, but I picked up on the calm uncertainty in her voice and I could almost touch her fear.  How could I communicate a response to what I could only intuitively feel her saying.  Neither of us would dare speak the unmentionable thoughts aloud.  What good would it do now?  We must carry on, plan on.  Our conversation consisted of make-shift plans that satisfied neither one of us.  Mom was disappointed, but driven to make it work.  I frankly sulked and gave her work to do, hiding little from the only person I could really allow to truly see my misery.  To be honest, it wasn't the divorce I grieved.  And though I missed my little girl, it wasn't even the lack of her presence that gave me that unquenchable emptiness.  It was change.  It was the reality that nothing would be as I had planned it from here on out.  The control I thought I had on my life was gone, never to be returned.  And though I had never made big, definite plans of what my family would look like, or even having one for that matter, the last minute blueprint I had drawn up for how things should go, my dreams, they had been shredded.  And here I was left to make sense of it all.  You may be wondering at this point what is so funny.  Well, the "best" this year happened to be Chinese take-out and Mrs. Edward pies.  That's right, while all of the Bible belt planners were out hording gasoline and kerosene for the storm that never hit, The China Buffett was bringing wontons right up to my front door...in the county, on Christmas Eve.  I'm guessing  those sweet souls avoided the hussle and bussle of Chirstmas that year, and I think they may have made a small profit too.  I think that's funny, now.  I can say with great confidence I didn't particulary find it  funny five years ago.  Five years ago, I would have been happy if they were closed and I had to go hungry, then I could have drowned a little longer in my sorrows.  As it were, I really had nothing to be sorry about.  I was with the man I love, and now call my husband.  His wonderful two boys were enjoying The Grinch.  I guess it didn't help that I hate that movie.  But honestly I was bound and determined to have a miserable Christmas Eve.  I complained all night.  I felt it my duty to feel sorry for all of us and our condition, you know, pork fried rice on Christmas Eve.  It wasn't long before I brought the whole party down. I was hanging on to what had been so tightly.  Change was happening, and though there were moments I embraced it, this night I flat refused to go along.  I had two options; bitterness or greive and move on.  Christmas Eve five years ago I chose bitterness.  Thankfully the Lord didn't give up on me.  What a joy to sit in this room, now and remember with laughter that night.    He has taught me so much in five years.  I've accepted my broken down, blended family and I cherish and love them in unspeakable ways.  Sure there are times of pure dissapointment, and there are still many times I have to bring the bitterness of my own heart to the table and just straight up repent.  But truly, tonight as I bask in the memory of Christmas Eve's past two stand out in my mind.  The night we ate General Tso's before an open fire (doesn't that just do something for ya?) and last year when we were completely childless.  I have learned from my Creator.  I knew in my mind He was Peace on Earth, I mean how many times do we hear that phrase repeated at Christmas?  But last year on Christmas Eve, I learned it in my heart.  There was no striving, no yearning for what I couldn't have, just complete rest in His arms.  Complete joy in celebrating the greatest gift known to man kind.  Isaiah 9:6 For unto us a Child is born, unto Us a Son is given; And the governement shall be on His shoulder.  And His name will be called Wonderful, Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  I knew Him by His names that night.  And that was enough.  And this year it still is.  Kind of makes me want to order out.