Great expectations & aggravations

Hello December! Welcome Christmas! Let’s begin with all the fa-la-la, frenzy, decking of the halls, and the anxiety the expectations of having the perfect Christmas bring. And don’t forget the peace on earth and goodwill to all men … even the not-so-nice ones.

This is my Christmastime story …

Hello reality!

As I begin to deck the halls and rooms at the Little House on the Alley, it would appear that Scrooge may have arrived uninvited. He is doing his best to dampen my Christmas Spirit.

Why did I clean the house before I started decorating? If glitter were a color, it would appear to be my favorite. It is slathered lavishly not only on the decor but on any surface or object in the living room or kitchen and on me.

I fluff the tree branches and plug in the lights. “Heavens to Clark Griswold!”

When what, to my wondering eyes, should appear … one string of lights on the tree isn’t working. I leave my half-lit tree and head to the store with a wall of lights stacked and packed with so many kinds of white lights: clear, twinkling, LED, and Energy Smart. After purchasing what I’m sure are the wrong lights, I make the not-so-smart decision to stop at the grocery. Who knew half the town had the same bad idea?

I pull into a parking spot and have to get out of my car to move a cart someone left in the way. Perhaps they did not realize that carts needed to be corralled. I hope Santa brings them some common sense and the wherewithal to do the right thing.

Of course, I chose the cart with a wheel that runs amok on aisle 5. I push forward ever-so-slowly so as not to bump into the family of 27 who decided to go shopping together.

I reach the checkout and find a line with only two people in front of me. Happy day … until the cashier tries to remove the tag from a package that alerts security if the cashier does not remove it. After her 14^th attempt to do so, I give up and move to the self-checkout. It is not my happy place. I struggle to place the 24-pack of water on the counter, which refuses to be scanned. I hit the help button and waited for the lady to finish helping the customer, looking for his ID to show he was over 21 and could legally buy RumChata. He couldn’t find it.

I finally get checked out, and when I pull out of my parking place, the car cattycorner to me decides to pull out and I am trapped as he inches closer to the side of my car. I politely honk my horn. He continues to get closer. I lay on my horn. He stops a Rudolf nose length from hitting me. In the Christmas Spirit, I wave a “Merry Christmas” to him with all five fingers as he pulls back into his parking place so I can move out of his way.

Photo provided by Janet Hart Leonard

I arrive home and do my best to carry in a dozen or so bags at the same time. I’ll let Chuck wrangle the water.

Eight hours later, when the decking and decorating are finished, this weary lady has, again, found her joy. Joy doesn’t mean things can’t go wrong. Joy doesn’t mean things are perfect. Joy comes from a place in my soul that reminds me that even amid the chaos, imperfections, aggravations, Grinches and Scrooges … this is a time to celebrate a tiny baby named Jesus, who came to change the world. Knowing that, I can sleep in heavenly peace. For now, all is calm, and the lights are bright. I bought the right ones!

You might be right if you think I have exaggerated in this column. There were only 12 in the family that was in aisle 5, and the cashier may have only tried six times before she called for help and it was only eight bags I carried into the house, but it’s my story, and I love not only glitter but a bit of embellishment!

If only you could HEAR me telling this story to my husband, complete with some fa-la-la and a bit of sarcasm and grouchiness in my voice.

May you find your joy as we begin the Christmas Season! And may God bless us everyone … even the guy who almost hit me in the parking lot.

Janet Hart Leonard can be contacted at janethartleonard@gmail.com or followed on Facebook or Instagram (@janethartleonard). Visit janethartleonard.com.