He Came to Us

He came to:

an elderly couple–a hesitant priest and his barren wife.

an innocent teenager and her gracious fiancé.

Christmas is About Love

I’m hours away from getting on a plane to visit my mother. She lives 10 hours from me in the next province over. She has dementia and it’s been worsening of late. For a couple of years now, she’s been slipping, repeating herself, forgetting important things like her health history or that she wears glasses and hearing aids. She’s still an avid talker, but her conversations now revolve around her big tv and the man friend that drops in to watch football. Sometimes when I’m with her and I’m bored and a little mischievous and too tired to redirect her, I’ll bring up the big TV myself. One of her oft repeated phrases is, “At least I still have my mind”, something that makes us smile every time she says it.

A Note from the Writer

Hello friends,

I’m writing this little note regarding my last post, “Where’s the Peace”. I failed to label that list of Christmas Complaints as fiction and didn’t rectify the situation soon enough. I had some people thinking I was having a Christmas meltdown. That list was my creative way of illustrating some of the stressors people face in our culture at Christmastime. As for me, I’m a little too laid back and a little too work shy, which is a nice way of saying lazy, to do all of that. My apologies to anyone who thought I needed prayer or a psych assessment. 😀 I’ll try to communicate more effectively from now on. 

Polly 🙂

I thought I’d share a few pics of creative Christmasy window dressings. I do love the glitz and glam!

Where’s the Peace?

A Fictitious Listicle of Christmas Complaints

The biting cold, the howling wind, the slippery roads, the snow piling up, and the enveloping darkness, make me want to roll up in a blanket with a jumbo bag of Munchie Mix and not poke my head out till spring.

I wiped out in a heap on the driveway yesterday and was pretty sure I looked like a beached whale and, if I didn’t manage to get up promptly enough, that someone was coming to helicopter me out to the Arctic and lob me onto a precariously thin patch of ice and set me adrift still lying there, essentially gift-wrapped walrus bait.

My neighbor’s house looks like a reindeer binged on 10 ugly Christmas sweaters and then proceeded to projectile vomit. You’d think looking at it would banish my Seasonal Affective Disorder forever, but I still feel like I need to go inside, dim the lights, and take an Ativan. I’ve started averting my eyes even in the daytime. 

My 30-year-old, Zellers Christmas special, fake Christmas tree is now starting to look like a 30-year-old, Zellers Christmas special, fake Christmas tree. Even Charlie Brown and the gang couldn’t sing this pathetic, scraggly mess of glue and plastic back to life.

My attempt at making a cheery platter of whimsical holiday treats ended with me crying, dusted with flour and eating cookie batter out of the bowl, while tearfully admitting that I don’t have the dexterity to use a rolling pin, cookie cutter, or piping bag or the stamina to make six dozen cookies in one day.

The lines were so long at the mall and the people so grouchy, I started to blame them for everything that’s wrong with my life.

If I have to listen to Frosty the Snowman one more time, I might have to rent a snow blower and take out all the snowmen in my neighborhood, handknit scarves, carrots, and all.

I couldn’t find the wildly popular, obscenely overpriced, Christmas gifts my loved ones wanted, so there’ll be dampened sadness around the tree this year instead of joy.

I can’t afford this but I’m doing it anyway and I’m not sure why.

I got the ugliest ornament in the gift exchange at work. It’ll make a fine addition to my growing collection of ugly ornaments from Christmases past.

Too much cheese log equals one large cheese plug. 😛

With all these Christmas parties, my bowl-full-of-jelly belly is starting to overflow my pants by a couple of large dollops.

The turkey is dry, the gravy is lumpy, the Jello didn’t set, the guests are arriving, and I feel like a smelly, wrung out dish rag who just had her hand up a big bird’s butt.

On Creativity

I’ve been thinking a lot about art and creativity recently. I’ve always been on the artsy side of things and yet never considered myself an artist until the last couple of years, when a friend called me an artist. I feel very honoured someone would think of me in that way, because I adore art and admire artists. They make the world so interesting and beautiful. Now that I look at Miriam Webster’s Definition, “a person who creates art (such as painting, sculpture, music, or writing) using conscious skill and creative imagination”, I see that I most certainly am an artist and I’m prepared to settle into that title like relaxing into a comfy couch.

The Path of Service

It was a couple of months into the pandemic. Other than grocery shopping and going outside for fresh air and exercise, we were asked to stay home to contain the spread. My son and I were walking on the dirt path in the river valley near our home. We were approaching a section carved midway up the hill where one had to walk single file to reach a couple of flights of stairs that would take us up out of the ravine. We immediately noticed an unusual sight. An old man stood on the trail wielding a shovel. It was a warm day and there was sweat dripping from his brow. He was gouging out the side of the hill with this shovel and tossing his take down into the river. He was widening the path, so that two could walk together side by side. Every time I walk on that path now, which is often, I think about that man. While many of us were holed up in our homes, worried about ourselves and our loved ones, complaining about masks and restrictions, he was doing something positive. He was making the world a better place.

Wattle I do?

My body is so helpful

It’s busy

At all hours

Squirreling fat away underneath my chin

For those days when I don’t have time to snack

Which is almost never 😀

Edited in Prisma app with Leya

The feature collage is me, taken by me and edited using Picsart and Prisma. The footer collage created by me, using a photo from Pixabay, edited using Picsart and Prisma. Posts come out when I feel like it. 😀 Scroll down to the bottom of the page to follow me or sign up to receive my posts via email. Listen to my posts on Spotify. Follow me on Instagram. Take a peek at my Redbubble store Pollyeloquent.redbubble.com. Thank you for giving me some of your precious time!

Guilty

When falling into sin

It’s never really falling

In Praise of Fall

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All pics were taken by me in Lethbridge, Alberta and Calgary, Alberta. Posts come out when I feel like it. 😀 Scroll down to the bottom of the page to follow me or sign up to receive my posts via email. Listen to my posts on Spotify. Follow me on Instagram. Take a peek at my Redbubble store: Pollyeloquent.redbubble.com. See samples of my products below each post. Thank you for giving me some of your precious time!

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A Gratitude Listicle

It’s Thanksgiving Weekend here in Canada and I’m feeling the urge to acknowledge my blessedness. Gratitude is one of the keys to a joy-filled life. Moments I’m thankful for: