Well. When my boss left today she told me that if I touched my laptop before Monday she was going to be very disappointed in me. :) I will probably work at home a bit Sunday; I've still got procedures to finish up. We're implementing SAP in our warehouse and I'm writing procedures. And, well, the implementation goes live Jan. 3. So not having all the procedures approved is driving me crazy! We'll get them, though. It's astonishing how productive I can be in a job where my abilities are valued and people think I'm wonderful, as opposed to my old job... But I digress.
11 inches of snow out there! I'm only about two blocks from a main road, and I still got stuck three times getting to work and four times getting home. The main road was fine. The side streets and my alley were horrendous. Coming home, I finally gave up and parked in the church parking lot across the street, because there was no way I was getting back in that alley!
I must say, despite my exhaustion from working 50-60 hours a week for the last couple months, and despite the fact that I wish I had more time to shop for the kids, I feel good about this holiday season. I think that despite the stress and personal difficulties -- or perhaps because of them-- I'm more aware this year of it being a time of hope. After all, isn't that the real meaning of all the winter holidays? Winter Solstice, when you celebrate that the longest night is over and the light is beginning to grow; Christmas, the birth of a child who is to bring renewal to the world; Hanukkah, where when all turned against them and they were left in the dark, a day's worth of oil lasted 8 days until more help could arrive.
The winter holidays are about strength in reserve, about reaching what you think is your breaking point and discovering that you can indeed go on, that you can "stand between the candle and the star... between the darkness and the light"--and still stand. They're about longing so deeply for redemption and hope and light that miracles happen. They remind us that no matter how dark it gets, there's a light (everyone sing Rocky Horror with me now - "Over at the Frankenstein pl..." oh, wait, sorry, wrong mythos!) at the end of the tunnel, and it's not a train, it's sunrise.