My excitement leading up to Christmas Day was so powerful it hurt, and I dimly felt that I was excited in a way that couldn’t be easily resolved.
Christmas Comes but Once a Year…
I have such blissful memories of the Christmases of my childhood, first and foremost the firm insistence on going to church Christmas morning.
Second Childhood
We’ve spent too many words bewailing the sins committed against us in our childhoods, and they were sins, and they had drastic effects, and that matters; but Sunday when I bought this charming “Winter Fairy” at my church’s St. Nicholas Bazaar, I decided it’s high time to enter into my second childhood…
The Virgin Goes Into Labor
Oh the ghosts of Christmas past! We all have them. May yours wear holly wreaths and drag chains of tinkling bells if they have to drag chains at all.
Mary’s Birthday
No, not that Mary, who was busy having a baby, but my mother, Mary Caperton Bingham.
Merry Solitude
As I prepare to enjoy Christmas in blissful solitude, I’m particularly grateful for having learned during the past ten years how to love myself alone.
Christmas Eve in Santa Fe
The ritual of planting candles to light the way to church for midnight mass on Christmas Eve was brought first to Mexico by the conquistadores.
The Welcoming of Friends
Over the twenty-seven years I’ve lived in Santa Fe, many people have come and many people have gone.
The Mustard Seed
As a child, I planted seeds every spring and knew how likely it was that, when I forgot to water them, they would never spring from the dry earth.
The Ruts Remain
Bells are ringing all over Santa Fe and the Plaza is blindingly bright with tree-strung lights…