Still

When Mozart was composing at the end of the 1700s the city of Vienna was so quiet fire alarms could be given verbally by a shouting watchman mounted on top of St. Stefan's Cathedral.

There is an alarm going off in my head telling me I need a little more 18th century Vienna in my life.

The noise, hustle, and bustle of Decembers gone by have found me bitterly whining to Greg on Christmas Eves that "We never watched White Christmas" or "We never made caramel bars" or "We never went to a live nativity." December's calendar is routinely blacked out by mid-November and as I sit in piles of torn wrapping paper on Christmas Day I realize the only traditions I've kept alive are stress, busyness, and aiming beyond the mark.

I needed a solution to our December problem. Then I remembered something my friend Brooke wrote about the Taos Indian Pueblo in Taos, New Mexico. Per tradition, at the end of every year the Indians close the pueblo to tourists and hold what they term "The Time of Being Still." This was my answer for our family this year.

I miraculously carved a WEEK OF STILL in our calendar. I traced the seven days on the calendar with permanent black marker to make them more holy. Nothing was allowed to infiltrate those days other than our standing commitment to the church youth group on Tuesday night. Our WEEK OF STILL was sandwiched between work parties, choir recitals, dance recitals, piano recitals, art shows and double dates. There were sacrifices that had to be made to find seven still days. Greg and I turned down social outings with friends. RE declined babysitting jobs and late nights over the weekend. We even opted out of the Lower Lights' downtown concert.

Our WEEK OF STILL was the best ever.

• For one full day and night we were all homebound from a snowstorm. We survived on homemade bread, leftover chocolate raspberry mousse pie from The Dodo, and Beecher's Flagship cheddar.  
• One night we ate a dinner of breadsticks and Hyde Park honey cookies in front of the TV and watched the old classic Christmas cartoons and our church's Christmas devotional.
• One night Greg sacrificed lovingly helped me x-acto all of my Christmas card pieces while I addressed envelopes by hand. Might I add: I don't care how poor we ever get, how sad the world becomes, or if a stamp eventually costs 90 cents...I will always mail Christmas cards. Designing and mailing my card is one of the creative highlights of my year.
• One night we watched a Christmas movie in our bed with the heated mattress pad cranked up to "high". Even Lucy loves the heated mattress pad.
• One night we all just sat by the Christmas tree and watched Lucy drink water out of the base. Victorian Christmas carols were playing in the background. You know, all the good stuff sung by little boys that can hit High C.
• And one night, possibly my favorite night, we went to Target at 9:30 p.m. for no good reason and walked out with a bag of Ghiradelli squares and a box of Reeses Puffs. Normally I think RP are gross, but trust me that fetus nearly leapt out of me because it wanted them so badly. Once home we ate cereal at the table, joking and laughing, RE majorly thrilled that it was so late on a school night, me majorly thrilled that I finally found the poisonous processed food my body has been craving. I think I ate 8 bowls and didn't even get road rash on the roof of my mouth.

In our WEEK OF STILL there were very few dollars spent and even less miles put on the car. And it was quiet. So quiet. The quiet settled in our home like a fresh-fallen snow and while drifting to sleep last night I was certain I could hear the watchman in Vienna.

I think we have a new tradition.

*My wise man is not holding a 25-cent ice cream cone from Macey's. He is holding a miniature Christmas tree in front of a record store and a church. I'm certain he purchased the track to the Mormon Tabernacle Choir's "Still, Still, Still" inside said store and then quietly went on his way to do wise things. I'm sure he is enjoying the season without overdoing it.