'Tis the Dreaded Season

Dear John,

 

I'm so sorry I didn't get to talk to you yesterday. I came home from work, changed and packed, did a Lia Sophia party, and got home after 10:30 - and way after coherence. It was a good day. But I came home and went straight to bed after I un-velcroed the animals from me. They don't like having Mom gone that late.

 

The big news is that I had to scrape my windshield to drive home last night, and we've been having lake effect snow off and on all day. Shipshewana has an inch and we have a coating. We're supposed to get 3-5 inches before morning. But, with lake effect, there's no clue where those inches will be.

 

The WFFs are anxious. We can no longer ignore the fact that Christmas is coming, and we're all bracing ourselves. This will be the first widowed Christmas for most of us. I told everybody that I'd let them know if the second one was easier. We will likely be doing a lot of our shopping on line. Crowds of happy people are bad enough, but the music in the stores is just unbearable. I remember leaving Kohl's crying last year after hearing "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas." We're dreading the season and holding on to each other a little bit tighter until it's over. Then we'll pin medals on each other in honor of surviving it.

I've been wondering what to do about the tree this year. You know last year the dog knocked the tree down while chasing the cat. This year, Abby will be four months old. I can't see the tree surviving under these conditions. So, what should I do instead? Do you have any suggestions? I have ornaments that I've seen every Christmas of my life, and I can't imagine not getting them out. I may have to put them under a bell jar. I could use some help on this, if you have any ideas.

Please get all of our men together and pray for us. Being widowed turns a season of joy and delight into one of grief and pain. Last year was grizzly. Please pray for us.

Adore you,
Joan.