Broken: Santa
SoulPerSuit's latest mini-group is examining the contrast between "decay" and "divine".
Our first creative thought-provoker is to take a photo of one thing in our life that is decaying. One thing?! Just one?!
(We joke that we ought to name our home "Entropy Estates" because of all that seems to fall apart around here.)
This is the Santa salt dough ornament I made in first grade, 1978. I distinctly remember painting his face yellow because it was the closest color to "skin tone" I could find in the elementary school paint tray. For 30 years this guy has hung near the top of our Christmas tree- first, in my parents' home, and when I got married, in my own home. I was very careful to keep Santa far away from little hands that might be overly zealous with tree decorating.
But then along came a three-year old...
I have to admit that I did not handle Santa's breakage like a sanctified mother. My spirit of Christmas shattered when Santa shattered.
Because I am broken as well.
Our first creative thought-provoker is to take a photo of one thing in our life that is decaying. One thing?! Just one?!
(We joke that we ought to name our home "Entropy Estates" because of all that seems to fall apart around here.)
This is the Santa salt dough ornament I made in first grade, 1978. I distinctly remember painting his face yellow because it was the closest color to "skin tone" I could find in the elementary school paint tray. For 30 years this guy has hung near the top of our Christmas tree- first, in my parents' home, and when I got married, in my own home. I was very careful to keep Santa far away from little hands that might be overly zealous with tree decorating.
But then along came a three-year old...
I have to admit that I did not handle Santa's breakage like a sanctified mother. My spirit of Christmas shattered when Santa shattered.
Because I am broken as well.
Labels: decay, SoulPerSuit
4 Comments:
Funny how sometimes we can get so wrapped up in things that when they are gone we get upset. Like we think something other than just the thing itself has been destroyed. My grandmother had these styrofoam gingerbread man ornaments. After she died I had one of them on my tree. My oldest son (who was such a destroyer in his early childhood) broke it into smithereens. No amount of glue could begin to patch it. He was two and a half a the time. I remember saying something along the lines of do you have to break everything? It hit me after saying how childish I was being over a forty year old (at least) piece of styrofoam. Like that piece of garbage could connect me to someone who had gone on to better things.
Kelli:
"A forty year old piece of styrofoam." That's hilarious. and it really puts it into perspective, doesn't it?
Fortunately, I was able to patch together Santa and hang him on the tree again this year. I still really like him and his jaundiced face.
Thanks for reminding me that there's a lesson in everything...even when kids go on a rampage.
I miss that Santa. I always loved the ornamets you made in school.
Sigh. : )
On a totally different note, I mentioned you in the new post "Together Road" over on High Calling Blogs. How I cherish the way you always bring me back to solid places.
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