Erato, Muse of Poetry, 1870 Sir Edward John Poynter
As I have written in past posts, every December I go through the very time consuming ritual of selecting the perfect Christmas Card. I am never content to merely browse the sale items, and I never go for glittery offerings. No, I gravitate towards rich, emotive art which speaks to me with its beauty, in hopes that it will do the same to the recipient. After searching for weeks, I finally met the one.
I was out in the city for an afternoon of shopping yesterday and saw the image, securely isolated away from the plethora of other paper spectacles, shining brightly as if to say,
“Rebecca, choose me! I am the one for you!”…When I moved closer to the display table and reached to make the treasured selection, I heard the voices of two women. Their conversation fascinated me in the irony of that moment because, just as I was marveling in my festive celebratory quest and discovery, I heard one voice ponder to her friend, “Does anyone really send those anymore? It’s just such a waste of time and they just add to the clutter. Why bother?”
Taking a deep breath, I turned and smiled at her, clutching the box as I walked away. Mentally, I answered her question with,
“Yes, Ma’am, of course they do. Because there are still a few of us out there in this oh so ‘modern world’ who deeply cherish sending and receiving cards, taking the time to write letters (email or handwritten), and hold dear the sentiments of fondness, gratitude, and affection, no matter how small. “
Though you may not receive something directly in the post from me this year, due to existence in the blogosphere being what it is, I offer my carefully selected Christmas card to you. As the card reads inside, I am sincerely wishing each of you, “Blessings at Christmas.”
Rebecca
