Cloud 9

It is that time of year that I like to call "seasonal twilight," because when you stand outside in any random location—thanks to leafless trees, puddles, and green/yellow grass—you can convince yourself that it is late winter going on spring rather than late fall going on winter (like the undefined period of time when you don't know if the sun is either just about to rise or just finished setting, if that metaphor needs explaining). I find it nice to pretend it's the former, since after Christmas and a few fun days of ice and snow, all there is to look forward to is cold and more snow and ice and slush and grey grey grey. Of course, that is when school comes to the rescue. I have to hand it to the world, Christmas break really is perfectly scheduled and it's nice to start up again in January when the weather gets wintery.

The realization that Christmas break is coming has just dawned on me today. I haven't let myself think about break until now. I'm not sure if that was a self-defense mechanism, or if I've just been busy, or if school has simply become a routine. Whichever way, a break is starting to sound awfully refreshing. Having done school straight since June 27, from my vantage point a 4 week Christmas break looks like an icy cold slice of perfectly ripe watermelon on a wonderfully hot 80 degree day. In a tank-top and shorts. Swinging on the disc swing. Surrounded by green.

Yeah yeah yeah quit daydreaming mattea. The literal hot chocolate with whipped cream and fuzzy hats and Christmas parties with friends that are coming your way are very fun too.

Speaking of which, we did have our first Christmas party on Saturday with the Epp's care group. Er, community group. Whatever it's called. But first, we all went caroling. We met at the Maxim's house and it didn't take long for a couple people to point out that I was the only one not wearing Christmas colors. Oops. I tried saying something like the wise men probably wore purple sweatshirts but I don't think anyone bought into it.

Across from the Maxim's is an elderly retirement complex, and we were scheduled to sing carols for them at about 3:00pm Saturday. We even advertised (hm, one of those tricky words where you could spell it the American way or the English way. I'm sticking with English since I spelled gray "grey" above lol). So we didn't know if we'd have a lot of people, or just a few.

When we got to the main meeting room, there were 3 cute looking old ladies sitting there waiting for us. By the end of our caroling we had attracted a grand total of six people, but all well. They seemed appreciative. One of them had even baked us a Hawaiian cake. But she warned us that it might not have turned out, seeing as she had forgotten to put the egg in at the proper time. Which made us wonder...when you did finally remember to put the egg in was it before or after you baked it? Haha, it really was sweet of her though. They kept thanking us profusely, even though our singing was only tolerable. For "Away in a Manger," we started off too low, so we couldn't even get out the "no crib for a bed" part. Everyone laughed, of course, and we started again, higher this time. But I couldn't sing after that because, though most everyone else had managed to except maybe Maryah, I just couldn't stop laughing. There is nothing worse than suppressing laughter; it's a horrid feeling. But we got through it alive.

Afterward we went to the Perl's and ate. Then Mr. Perl, the game king, got out his Christmas jeopardy board. We split into teams and it ended up that all of my family was on one team. We won. And I'm not sure if we are going to get invited back to that community group because Mr. Maxim said, at the end of the night, "I just got introduced to a whole other side of the Wilber's. You guys are competitive." (And he has known us for 6-8 years.) I guess we went a little overboard on the cheering and hand signals and bouncing. 

Sunday morning we arrived at church rather early. I was quite excited when I saw (and smelled) the Christmas tree, and the day only got better after that. Warren Boetcher was up...or over...however that works...and he preached from Daniel 12. Once again exciting, because it was apocalyptic literature; however he put a new spin on it, preaching on one of my favorite topics: how to live in light of eternity. 

After church we somehow ended up with the Hinterberger's again. Though it is a rather swell thing to end up with. Mikaela, Maryah and I rocked the aprons, got all domestic and made pancakes. I think we may have had 20 people in that kitchen since the Crogan's and a few Jeror's were there too. I'll say that if there ever was organized, happy chaos, that was it. It gets the title "organized" because we eventually ended up with lunch on the table, not on the ceiling. "Happy" because everyone was laughing or smiling or talking or singing (songs of choice: Every Move I Make, O Come All Ye Faithful, and Banana Pancakes). "Chaos" because that is just what happens whenever we get together.

Though the entire day did have sort of a surreal quality to it (and not because I was high...at least, I don't think I was). You just get this feeling that you don't deserve any of this. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve God's gift of salvation, let alone all the other gifts He gives me. His forgiveness is way more than enough, but for some reason He didn't stop there. He put me in the best family, with a wonderful mom, a role model dad, and siblings who are amazing. Set me in a great church, that sure, has definitely seen some storms, but is looking at clearer horizons. Given me friends who make me smile, and afternoons like yesterday that are spent on cloud nine. Even if it's really just simple things like decorating the tree at church or flipping pancakes with Mikaela or dancing or running up the road singing Christmas songs at the top of your lungs 'til you can't breathe.

I guess there is no such thing as "could have," but for the sake of things I'm going on a "could have" spiel. I could have been born somewhere else. I could have not graduated high school. I could have headed down a dark, dark road that doesn't reach the light again. I could have rejected the gospel. I could be trapped in some South Asian brothel. I could be all alone. I could be lost and fearful. I could be starving to death.

But I'm not.

God put me here, as a Wilberito, not there. Yeah here is hard in its own ways—everyone has their burdens to bear. But when I think of what I deserve (for the world to blow up in my face and then spend an eternity in pain)...it's an understatement to say I'm rather glad, rather grateful, He did put me here.