Chesterton, Lucy, Ethel and Santa

Most sensible people say that adults cannot be expected to appreciate Christmas as much as children appreciate it. But I am not sure even that sensible people are always right, and this has been my principle reason for deciding to be silly--a decision that is now irrevocable. It may be because I am silly, but I rather think that, relatively to the rest of the year, I enjoy Christmas more than I did when I was a child. My faith demands that such be the case. The more mature I become, the more I need to embrace the joys of the incarnation. The more mature I become, the more I need to be but a child. G. K. Chesterton

This quote is my Christmas manifesto, my creed, my explanation for why a middle-aged, gray-haired, former home-schooling, supposedly mature Christian woman behaves the way I do.  I thought it would be a fitting introduction to my story of how Ethel and I began our Santa photo tradition.

Our husbands don't fully understand why it is, or even what it is we do; they just know that when Ethel and I are given the gift of time together, all of life tends to function more smoothly.  For everyone.  They are the ones who dubbed us Lucy and Ethel in the first place.  I'm guessing our husbands figure that letting us spend time together is much cheaper than therapy, and so far we've avoided doing anything to merit a mention on the Drudge Report  So, periodically, they send us away together, with their blessing.

One year, my husband arranged for Ethel and I to R-U-N-N-O-F-T to Vermont for a few days.  I had fun showing her places that were special to me; places the beloved Swede and I had discovered on our honeymoon, places that held rich memories for my family.

The following Christmas, Ethel wanted to return the favor and show me some places in and around Sturbridge, Massachusetts, that held special meaning for her.  We decided to get together at a quintessentially New England inn for dinner and to exchange Christmas gifts.  We had a lovely Christmas celebration, laughed ourselves silly, and decided to make this event an annual tradition.

The following Thanksgiving, I called Ethel from the emergency room after hitting a patch of black ice and rolling my car over.  After the accident, I was feeling a little hinky about making the hour-long drive to Sturbridge that year--okay, I was scared out of my alleged mind.  (hinky:  adj  /'hin-ke/  1.  slang:  nervous, jittery).


Anyway.  We decided to change our plans and have dinner instead at a local brass and glass restaurant, asking the hostess to seat us as far as possible from other customers because there was the tiniest possible we might be a bit ridiculous.  And loud.


We exchanged gifts, laughed out loud, gave thanks for our friendship, and toasted the fact that I wasn't dead.  Ethel gave me the silliest shopping girl ornament that looked like a barefoot bag lady.  The only thing I didn't like about it was that the toenails on the bag lady weren't painted red.  There was really nothing else to do but go to the drug store at the nearby shopping mall, buy a red Sharpie marker, and fix the ornament.

And so we did.  And Santa was in his cottage outside the entrance to the store.  And one thing led to another and:

The Photo That Started It All

Flashing Red Noses

Antlers and Flashing Necklaces

Our pins read, "Raise a little cane!"

Getting in touch with our inner elves

The year we got Mary Kay makeovers

This year's photo--glittery tops and feather boas!

There you have it--the story behind the Santa tradition.  When we get together, year after year, we celebrate God's goodness in giving us husbands who love us and get us; we celebrate the ridiculous, impossible joy of Christmas; we celebrate the gift of a friendship that cheers each of us along the way.

Besides.  We know how much Santa looks forward to seeing us!

(By the way, our children are fully aware that, when Ethel and I are old and infirm, we are to be placed in rooms next to each other in the nursing home.  I'm sure we'll look at each other and say, "Who are you, why are you following me around, and give me back my teeth!"  Then laugh ourselves silly.)

Linking my silliness with the Soli Deo Sisterhood at Finding Heaven Today.