For Auld Lang Syne

Now that Christmas has come and gone for another year, everyone we meet tells us, "Happy New
Year!" We're ending another year that has been filled with much joy and happiness or much sadness
and grief. Truth be known, for each of us 2016 has probably been a combination of all of those emotions.  Many years ago I read a passage from a book by artist and writer Kahlil Gibran. In this
particular writing he talked about the Tears and Laughter that fill our lives. And it is so. In this
writing, Gibran stated, "I would not exchange the laughter of my heart for the fortunes of the
multitudes; nor would I be content with converting my tears, invited by my agonized self, into
calm. It is my fervent hope that my whole life on this earth will ever be tears and laughter." And
certainly we know that regardless of who we are, where we live, what we do - tears and laughter
will always be a  part of our lives, a part of every year of our lives. But still we look backward
upon the year ending and we feel nostalgic. And we look forward with hope and expectancy, even
though we know that this new year will most certainly include both tears and laughter.

As we approach the end of any year and look toward the next, I believe it is in our nature to get a little nostalgic or perhaps introspective. We may reminisce about what has been, perhaps what
could have or should have been - and then what might be in the coming year.

As a little girl my sister and I loved New Year's Eve. Though our parents usually went out "on
the town" on that night, we knew that at home or at Grandma's, we could stay up very late and
at midnight when the strains of "Auld Lang Syne" came on the radio or television, we would be
allowed to go outside in our nighties and bang on kitchen pans with large spoons,  making all
kinds of racket that at any other time would not have been acceptable. Then the next day we would
delight in the tchotchkes that our parents had brought home to us. There would be cardboard
new year's hats, noise makers, horns, paper necklaces and confetti! We were enchanted by these
meaningless items. Fast forward a few years. I remember that when my mother would hear the
traditional new year's song, "Auld Lang Syne", she would always shed a few tears. I didn't under-
stand and she seemed at a loss to find a way to explain her emotions to me. I no longer need an
explanation, as I now react the same way when I hear the song. And for goodness sake, I can't
really explain why either! Regardless of the time of year, it moves me.

The song, though familiar to literally everyone over the age of ten, has words that always leave
us confused. What do those words really mean? And depending on who is singing, WHAT ARE THOSE WORDS???? Personally, being a Rod Stewart fan, I think his rendition is my absolute
favorite and if you haven't heard him sing it, I encourage you to pull it up online and listen. His
delivery, as far as I'm concerned, adds even more depth to the meaning.

But let's look at some history of this song, shall we? A little research tells us that in 1788 Robert Burns sent the song to the Scots Musical Museum in Scotland, indicating that it was an ancient song, but that he'd been the first to record in on paper. The phrase 'auld lang syne' roughly translates to 'for old times' sake' and the song is about preserving old friendships and looking back over the events of the year. Ok, that's not so tough, right?

Most of us know the first verse and the chorus, but it usually goes downhill from there. The original words, with their Scottish flair and brogue, leave us totally confused, with words like pint stoup and braes and gowans, etc.............But still, I think by even muddling through it, we can figure out the
true meaning of the song, or at least the feelings behind them.
                                                                          **
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and auld lang syne.

Chorus:
For auld lang syne, my dear, for auld lang syne,
We'll take a cup o'kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

And surely ye'll be your pint-stowp and surely I'll be mine!
And we'll take a cup o'kindness yet, for auld lang syne.

Chorus:

We two hae run about the braes and pu'd the gowans fine.
But we've wandered mony a weary fit sin' auld lang syne.

We twa have paidled i' the burn, frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid have roared sin' auld lang syne.

Chorus:

And there's a hand, my trusty fiere, and gie's a hand o'thine!
And we'll tak a right quid-willie waught - for auld lang syne!
                                                                            **
Wow. Well, we tried. Suffice to say, I hope that it's about friendship and friendship lost.
Perhaps about love and faithfulness to one another and belonging to something larger, a fellowship. About all kinds of loss, but finding each other once again. I think it refers to the fact that we're in this together and perhaps we can try to be a little kinder.  Regardless, wherever you are at midnight on New Year's Eve, if you hear the strains of "Auld Lang Syne", I hope you'll allow yourself a moment of nostalgia for what has been and a moment of hope for what may come. If you've suffered loss this year, I hope you find peace and consolation as you look to the new year.

I want to thank you all for taking this journey with me. I hope you have found on these pages, at
least sometimes, something that resinates with you or that interests you. I'm wishing each of you
a healthy, happy and prosperous 2017. I'll be back in January. Let's take a cup of kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

"A Christmas Memory"

Well, it's been a few weeks since I've managed to get back to this page. I'm sorry - because I've
missed it, missed talking with you. My only excuse is that the season has caused time to fly faster than usual. I'm planning to be back more regularly after Christmas.

Today I want to share with you, a story that I wrote some time ago, a true story of a little girl
at Christmas. I know it's a true story because I was that little girl.

                                                                    ***
I remember a Christmas when I was just a little girl, about seven years old, I think. Santa was
still very important to me and I had made sure that he knew just exactly what I wanted that year. At that time a very popular line of dolls - the Ginger Doll - had caught my eye, and I had studied and
studied the entire variety, which was on display that Christmas season at one of our local dime stores.
The Ginger Doll line included a variety of choices, all with different hair colors and different outfits. The one I wanted had auburn hair and she wore a sort of Scottish tartan outfit, two piece and plaid, with a little green Tam on her head. I loved that doll and every time Mother and I went to this store, I
would wander to the particular area where the dolls were displayed, just to look at the doll and hope
she would be mine on Christmas. Although my sister, Charmaine, and I were never sure of what
we would be able to get from Santa, I was as sure as I could afford to be that this doll would be mine
on Christmas day.

Sometime in the wee hours between Christmas Eve and Christmas morning, I crept from my bed without waking Charmaine who was in the next bed sleeping. I went to the Christmas tree
in the living room. Immediately I could see the Ginger Doll under the tree, along with a doll
bed I'd also wanted. But in the moonlight streaming in through the window, my excitement flew to
despair. I could see it was not the doll I had wanted, but another - different hair color, different clothing.

I didn't wake anyone at that hour, but I remember lying down by the tree and quietly crying myself
to sleep over my disappointment. Mother found me there the next morning, sleeping, very cold and
very downhearted.

As I awoke and began telling her my sad story, I looked again at the Ginger Doll. The early
morning light allowed me to see more clearly and I was amazed to see that it was, indeed, the doll of my dreams! I was ecstatic but even at that young age, I remember feeling a bit foolish at my quickness to be disappointed.

In the years that have followed that early and memorable Christmas of mine, I have seen and
shared many times of disappointment and despair. Many times it has seemed that joy and gladness
would not follow. But just like that Christmas morning so many years ago, I have always been
surprised at my own foolishness - at my own readiness to be too soon disappointed. Human
nature, I suppose, but each time a teachable moment. I believe in my heart what I learned that
long ago Christmas. "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning." (Psalm 30:5)

                                                                    ***

I don't know about you, but it seems to me that this week - just before Christmas - there's a feeling of slowing down, taking a moment and a deep breath. I hope you're able to take that moment to access and calm down, to enjoy the anticipation and hope that is Advent. The waiting for Christmas.

May your every Christmas dream come true.