It was a busy, diverse and fun filled weekend for me.
With Christmas only a few snowflakes and icy roads and credit card purchases away, I felt that I should do something to get in the spirit.
Hence, the gingerbread house idea sprang to my head. I was, of course, having a long winter’s nap when suddenly I had this vision of a houseful of grandchildren, laughing and teasing each other and, in the process, making grandma feel the Christmas joy, otherwise known as the Christmas spirit.
I pride myself on being the central location where cousins get to know each other, and siblings, whose diverse careers afford entirely different lifestyles, can get together.
Of course, it doesn’t always happen.
But, this weekend it seemed to work out, but only after the hockey game.
The hockey game was number one priority for all of us and early in the morning; 8:15 to be exact, we all trooped down to the arena to watch grandson number three get the first goal of the game.
It was a wonderful goal, at least in the eyes of his grandma, who watched in amazement as the puck went flying straight into the net off the stick of none other than No. 18.
It truly was a moment of pride which I took great pains to hide because I have a tendency to get too excited and act very immature, indeed, during such tense, goal scoring moments!
True, No. 18 ended up goalie later in the game, and I’m sure there was lots of proud grandmas on the other team who watched their goal scoring grandchildren shoot the puck in the net past my grandchild.
Regardless, it was fun and I’m grateful I was there in the arena watching a hockey game and I was also grateful the lady sitting beside me moved over slightly so I could sit on her warm blanket.
Anyway, later that day, just as in my vision, I was super pleased to see four little grandchildren and one grandfather gathered around the kitchen table.
And, despite not reading the instructions and the walls of some of the gingerbread houses collapsing like a deck of cards, not once, but several times, at the end of the day four gingerbread houses, all put together by sticky little fingers, came into being.
It was a good day, a blessed day, filled with lots of love, laughter and sticky candy.
The next day, the kaleidoscope of my life did a complete turn when I covered a poverty supper. The truth was the poverty supper consisting of soups and breads was absolutely delicious, but the point that poverty is a very real and disturbing fact that cannot be ignored was well taken.
I thought about the gingerbread houses and the abundance of food and shelter and clothing that many of us are fortunate to claim each and every day.
And I thought about how often we forget to be grateful for the little things that we simply take for granted every day.
With the Christmas season upon us, or at least really close to being upon us, it seems especially important to remember to be grateful for the simple things in life.
It is so easy to forget that there are many people who don’t get enough to eat, that don’t have warm clothes or a warm place to live.
I thought about that when I went back for my second bowl of soup that, as I mentioned before, was absolutely delicious.
And as I drove home through the still winter night, I reflected, once again, on the importance of being grateful for the little things.
For me, hockey games and gingerbread houses that are imperfectly perfect and laughter and hugs that somehow turn a house into a home are the little, big things that spell abundance.
And covering a poverty supper keeps it all in perspective.