Sometimes I dream Little. (For instance.)
Other times I dream Big. But only sometimes. I have a tendency to reach for things that I know I can touch and skip the psychic muscle ache of the other stuff completely.
TRANSITION TO MAIN IDEA THAT LINKS BRAS TO BIGGER THINGS (NOT BIGGER BRAS, BIGGER DREAMS)
So when we started talking a few years back about wanting a tent trailer for the family, I surprised myself. It's more than a fifty dollar item. It would take saving for. We'd have to want it for a while before we'd get it. The gymnasium called "Loud, Echoey Disappointment" yawned before me. I might have to bounce around in there quite a while before the thing manifested itself.
If it ever did.
And if it didn't, then I'd end up being one of those people who talk about "someday we're gonna . . ." and blah blah. And I just really, really have tried not to be one of those people.
CONNECTION TO CURRENT HOLIDAY SEASON AND ALSO TO BIG DREAMS
This year I declared it Christmas of the Unexpected at our house. Everybody in the family's got a day of the week (and some of us are paired up on those extra days)--and we're in charge of doing something unexpected for somebody else.
I have been thinking this season about the nativity story and the way that it is a story of unexpectedness if it's a story of anything. There are all those faithful people watching the skies for somebody to save them, and while they're squinting for a king or a bruiser of a ruler to overthrow the bad guys oppressing the daylights out of them, out of the clouds drops a baby.
And I have to say that if I had been a faithful jewish person at the time, I woulda been shaking my head and praying, "Really?"
But as I've been mulling and chewing my own head to shreds about the ways in which Christmas bugs me, it struck me that what we need--what I need, my family needs--is a refresher on what it means to be really surprised. On being ready for the Unexpected.
THE PART ABOUT WHAT REALLY BUGS ME ABOUT CHRISTMAS
It drives me batty that my primary concern at Christmas is how to materilize whatever my kids have said they want. It feels like Potential Disappointment Management rather than the giving of real joy. And I'd really like Christmas to be about real joy.
So I declared it the Christmas of the Unexpected as a means of our reaching toward practicing being surprised--and also as a means of practicing surprising other people. We delivered root beer floats to some friends and once I cleaned the house by myself so the rest of the fam could play instead of pitching in, and mostly the kids have said "For our unexpected tonight, let's watch a movie on a school night!" And mostly we've said, "Great idea!"
THE PART ABOUT THE TENT TRAILER BEING BETTER THAN THE BRA
And then when I wasn't looking, right smack in the center of Christmas of the Unexpected, this happened: after a year of searching more or less every day [oopss--accidental confession of weird personal hobby] for tent trailers and trying to talk myself into the idea that an early 90's pop up with a Dusty Mauve interior was something I would grow to love, this 1969 Apache Ramada Pop Up appeared. The fact that it was only 600 bucks meant we could pay cash. I sent Pete 120 bucks short and got a surprise check for 123 while he was on the road there (thankfully . . .since it was going to come out of the grocery envelope).
THE CLOSING WHERE A VISION OF YELLOWY GOLD TELLS THE STORY OF THE WAY IN WHICH THIS TRAILER IS BETTER THAN WHAT I'VE EVEN TRIED TO WISH FOR AND HOW IT'S A SIGN TO ME ABOUT HOW I RARELY DREAM BIG ENOUGH AND THAT I PROBABLY MISS THE BABIES DROPPING OUT OF THE SKY WITH ALL MY SURETY THAT WHAT I NEED IS A BRUISER OF A KING
And the reason I write all of this here--and not just a "Hey--looka whatwe got" is that everything about this falls under the category of the Unexpected.
There are the things I want, the Little dreams.
And then there are the things I rarely believe can come true.
And then . . .