The people of Norway have a word to describe the cozy winter nights leading up to Christmas. I think we should all practice this:
“Norwegians also have a word, koselig, that means a sense of coziness. It’s like the best parts of Christmas, without all the stress. People light candles, light fires, drink warm beverages, and sit under fuzzy blankets. There’s a community aspect to it too; it’s not just an excuse to sit on the couch watching Netflix. (They have)…plenty of festivals and community activities creating the sense that everyone was in it together.”
I am going to light a fire. I hope you are too.
I have been having a hard time throwing on the breaks of my life. I have been thinking Unhurried Christmas thoughts, but I didn’t think it was fair to share them if I wasn’t walking the walk. In the last two weeks, I have been out of the house before the sun and back well after it has set. I confess to eating more granola bars than meals lately and I haven’t done a thing to my house other than putting up a fall wreath on the door. I had meeting requests starting at 7:30 am and going to 9:00 pm. Not exactly the warm, holiday feeling schedule I aim for.
That changed yesterday.
I am working on an assignment on a military base for a few weeks, and I was working faster than my internet could handle. I escaped to a Starbucks on base for high speed Wi-Fi and a really large cup of coffee (see: the hours I have been keeping, above). Amid the rapid-fire clicks of my keyboard I overheard an encounter between a pair of teeny tiny siblings, a boy and a girl, leaving the coffee shop with their mom. The little girl was about two and a small stature for even that. She was wearing a skirt and ruffled top and the smallest pair of maryjane pumps ever created for human wear. She strode around making the shoes make that “bossy girl walking down the hall” noise that, let’s face it, is pretty damn satisfying. As they got to the door, her brother, who was four years old (tops) says, “After you, ma’am.” The little girl was also holding the door behind him while admiring her shoes. She was strong and cute and relishing in the knowledge! He was a gentleman and proud to be one.
In that moment, they were paralyzed with politeness. She wanted to do it herself—because she could. He couldn’t not do this very important thing he was taught to do. She looked up at her mom and said, “But *I* can do it.” And he looked up at his mom and said, “I am holding the door for the ladies.” How she didn’t laugh is beyond me, but I am glad she didn’t. The earnestness in the situation was palpable.
Finally the mom had to step in and take the door for both of them and when she did, they both scampered off in the direction of their car.
I thought about that for the rest of the day. What I came up with, after my heart recovered from melting, was that the mom of those two little ones is awesome. They were both had the best intentions; being kind and strong— and I am sure that is something she taught them. So when it came down to using what they were learning they got stuck. She didn’t shout or hurry them along. She let them have the moment and it was beautiful.
Time to slow down. Time to savor the moments. Time for an Unhurried Christmas (and possibly a pair of pink maryjane pumps).