Christmas Eve, Mark, Hannah and I attended a glorious, candle lighting service at Second Baptist, and Dad stayed home to listen to Rick Warren’s Saddleback Church service on FOX. Second Baptist trucked in several trucks of snow for children (and adults) who wanted to craft snowmen or throw snowballs on the parking lot. We opted to go straight home, turn on the air conditioning, and eat a supper of chili and tamales. Yesterday we spent a quiet day reveling in the Gift of Love that is Jesus Christ the Lord.
Today Mark is happy to have a Boxing Day holiday, granted him by his British employer. (However, he noted that his company does not honor that Italian guy who was in the employ of the Queen and King of Spain.) Dad is glad that MD Anderson isn’t on holiday, and that he’ll receive radiation treatment #11 today. Mark overheard Dad and me puzzling over the significance of Boxing Day, and pointed us to a New York Times article which, in essence, says that it has meant different things at different times.
Seeing as how the tradition of Boxing Day is long and varied, I am going to make it into what I want it to be. I’ll stick with the boxing theme by unpacking some boxes that I haven’t got around to opening since our last trip to Manchaca; listen to a bunch more Christmas carols; sample some Rose’s chocolates that Mark brought back from Wallingford, England last week, communicate with “rellies” via the phone and email, wrap some gifts (boxes again!) for my family’s gift exchange next week, and then go shopping with Mark. I’m thinking that I’ve been celebrating Boxing Day all along and didn’t know it.