Those who know me well know I
am not usually speechless.
When family plans proved no longer viable, Sam’s eyes
twinkled as he invited me to spend Christmas Day in Atlantic City “with all the
other soulless horrors” (who are the sorts of people who would go to a casino for
Christmas).
But we have no local church in which we are active. We would be
missing no special services. So off we went.
On the bright side, I was delighted to be somewhere
relaxing with Sam; somewhere where others do the cooking and cleaning, where
the room is consistently warm, and hot water is a guarantee (unlike our
apartment). I looked forward to swimming in the pool, going on long walks, and to
hitting the outlet stores with Sam.
I did not count on profound laryngitis.
On Christmas Eve my voice was kinda cute and croaky. By
Christmas morning, it was MIA. I could not make a peep. So also, no swimming.
No long walks in the sub-zero temperatures, or even inside, as my tired body
fought the infection. I rested in bed as Sam hit the outlet stores.
Nevertheless, this Christmas was full of joys and
delights and many funny moments.
Sam hums when he’s busy. He hums when he’s packing, or
preparing, or just generally content.
After an overly crowded Christmas Eve bus ride to
Harrah’s (I rode next to a Trump supporter and managed civil and friendly
conversation for two hours---thanks Dylan Marron!) we arrived.
Sam hummed as we
both unpacked. I found places for my various things, still chatting with my
busy husband and didn’t notice until I looked up, finished, that the darling
man had strung Christmas lights around a picture. And on the coffee table was a
tiny pine tree bolstered by a blue blanket with one red ball hanging near the
top. He had even thrown in a tiny nutcracker.
I exclaimed with delight at my
thoughtful and imaginative husband. How did he think of these things? I never
would have thought to bring decorations. He loves surprising me, and surprise
me he did.
Before we caught the bus, he surprised me with a
Christmas stocking. He had made one for each of us. They started with Christmas “Crackers”---a
British/Canadian tradition usually part of a place setting. I squealed with
delight as I snapped mine open, and we enjoyed our silly jokes and tiny toys
with bright paper hats on our heads. Then we each got a scratch card---clever.
Next
came two surprise toy bags or “blind bags” where one knows the general category
but not the specifics of the tiny toy inside.
Again, clever boy. I got a tiny Buckbeak (from Harry Potter) and a tiny…something
strange from a cartoon he follows. He got two tiny strange things and was
delighted!
When we exchanged our gifts, I noticed how great Sam
is at saying things like, “Oh…look at that.” “Isn’t that nice?” “Isn’t that
something?” and spending real time and attention on each gift. I don’t think I
do that. Now I want to be much more mindful when opening gifts.
So on to Christmas at Harrah’s with all the soulless
horrors.
I noticed that, while I had some nostalgia and some
twinges of loss, I didn’t mind that we had no Christmas service to attend.
I noticed that I did spend some time judging the
people around me. I made up stories about how shallow they all must be and then
felt superior and “better-than.” Judging them probably distracted me from judging
myself for being at a casino over Christmas.
Judgmental habits need to find things
to judge---and it is far more comfortable to focus on judging outward than to judge
oneself. (Or, I could stop judging at all.)
Besides, when I looked inward, I was at peace. I didn’t have a reason to judge myself, which
then released any need to judge others. Hey presto! What a lovely Christmas
gift.
But it was HARD not being able to communicate. I
started carrying a notebook and pen. I typed stuff into my phone and held it up
for others to read. I even tried Googling simple sign language, (as if anybody
around me would know what I was trying to say).
It was fascinating how quickly people treated me as if
I were deaf, even when I typed that I had laryngitis. One person, when I was trying to communicate
what I needed said, “Oh, bless your heart!” and started writing things out for
me to read too. A bartender apologized,
saying he had taken a term of sign language but had forgotten all he learned.
(Assuming I knew sign language.) Within
minutes, shopkeepers, bathroom attendants, and waitresses would start whispering
or gesticulating around me---because that is what I was doing? Sam himself
often became quiet, and told me it was hard to remember to speak at regular
volume around me.
Sam and I were in line for over an hour for a buffet next
to another couple. I noticed how rarely they looked at me, but looked primarily
at Sam, because I never spoke. I wondered if that is what it is like for the
quiet ones in a couple. Does the quiet one feel less visible? It was a
fascinating psychological exercise.
❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄ ❄
Meanwhile, HOW ARE WE?
We
are well! After giving up at
Starbucks---the bullying was intolerable and showed no signs of improving---Alison
left and worked hard at building her wedding ministry and clutter clearing
businesses.
Much research revealed that
nothing short of a full return to school to re-do most of her courses would
satisfy New York’s Counselling certification, (they do not recognize “Theology”
courses as counseling courses) so that avenue was not an option. The
advertising expenses for the weddings was not covering the income, so she kept
submitting resumes all over the place with little to no success.
Finally, a friend noticed that Mood Fabrics was
hiring, so Alison tweaked her resume (again!) to highlight all her sewing
experience, and after some back and forth, was hired by Philip Sauma himself, possibly
because Alison is a pastor, but also because she was willing to serve where
needed.
Within a short amount of time Alison has been helping the
densely packed and richly stocked store relocate products for better
visibility, create systems to better support inventory management, and make the
customer and employee experiences easier and more intuitive. She is so grateful to be trusted with the
implementation of small changes, and tickled beyond measure at the gratitude
and warmth of her coworkers.
“I love working at Mood Fabrics. It is crazy and
busy, but my fellow employees are hard-working and kind. I enjoy the variety of
nationalities and abilities and that the store feels like a big family. The owners are kind and my coworkers to date
are thoughtful, hard working, and well-intentioned.”
Sam remains at Penguin Random House, receiving another
raise, so even the tight money issues may eventually resolve, given careful
stewardship by us both.
He seems to like being married.
It is Dec 29th and I still cannot speak. I
guess my voice needed a LONG vacation.
But I have so much to say!
I meditated on incarnation and “showing up” as I
journeyed through this silent Christmas. I lay and dozed in the light of Sam’s Christmas
lights, and felt safe and warm and full of gratitude for my miraculous husband.
I reflected on how being present with “what is,” is the core of mindfulness. Not
resistance, not preference, not even attempting to change or control the
narrative---just accepting and working with “what is” can bring remarkable
serenity and greater efficacy in the face of suffering. This sort of “showing
up” has been increasingly what has enabled me to notice the blessings in my
life---which are “Emmanuel” or where God is present with me.
Thank you for being one of the blessings in our lives. Thank you for reading all the way through this letter! May your new year be rich in growth and depth and spiritual blessings, and may we meet again soon, face-to-face.
Alison and Sam Moore
aka AliSam
BUT WAIT!!!! How could I forget to mention one of the most important events of all in 2017?!
The birth of a new family member---a daughter for Eden and Aaron, who arrived January 10. Andrea Katherine was born at home 5 days early with Eden's sister, Jennie, on hand to love and support her arrival. Being a grandmother is amazing. I love that child more than I knew was possible. She is surrounded by loving and wise family. My only wish, that I did not live 500 miles away. I include two pictures, one from when she was five days old, and one from this autumn.
All the rest about her is her parents' right to share or keep private.
She is a miracle.
Previous Christmas letters can be found here:
http://alisonlongstaffmoore.blogspot.com/2016/12/alisams-2016.html
https://cliffsidechapel.com/Christmas2015.htm
Finding Sam was a miracle. If that could happen, anything can!
Not unlike last year, I had five days of profound laryngitis, though it came the second week of December rather than over Christmas, thank goodness. Just like last year, it was funny to watch people around me start pantomiming, whispering, and just stop talking in response to my whispering and pantomiming. I will call that deep empathy, and the desire to connect through mirroring, rather than anything reflecting the overall intelligence of my friends. We humans are endlessly entertaining.
Sam continues to work at Penguin Random House in the permissions department, though they moved his office from the lower West Village up to 55th and Broadway. The walk is longer than it used to be and nowhere near as pleasant, so he is more inclined to take the subway. Nevertheless, we are grateful he has steady, secure work with a boss he respects.
She (me) has turned her attention to her organization and clutter clearing business and is seeing a steady influx of work. She (I, me) find this work deeply satisfying. It feels pastoral and useful and seems to give the clients a real lift. Most of my work is in my hometown, a two-hour train ride from NYC, so I have been staying for two or three weeks at a time with friends and family in order to fit in as many jobs as I can line up. I'm hoping to build my clientele in New York City, but so far my network is far too small there, and folks generally hire people they've heard great things about.
