Extra-ordinary

In which the ass with the eye roll makes my day

Here we are on the threshold of another Christmas. This time lands differently for each of us. Some celebrate, some tolerate, some step sideways to look for another path through. There is so much I don’t understand about our existence these days, but I still trust a few things: that curiosity can loosen the stronghold of fear, that gratitude is a path to contentment, and that goodness tends to appear when I make room for it.

The piece linked just below was written many seasons ago as a holiday letter to family and friends. I’ve shared it here before, and at a reader’s suggestion, it seems I’m turning it into an annual practice. I do love me a tradition.

The words are the same; we are not. If you enjoyed it in the past, I hope it meets you where you are now. If it’s new to you, I hope you’ll find it to be good company for a few minutes. If you’ve time for one more, “Lift Up Your Heads,” Rona Maynard’s recent reflection on Handel’s Messiah, feels like a kindred offering. It sent me hurrying back to the music itself, and I found inspiration there.

And if Christmas feels like a lot this year—or never felt like your holiday in the first place—I give you the ass with the eye roll. Part of a vintage Italian nativity set I inherited when my parents upgraded to a loftier display, the donkey has clearly formed an opinion about the whole affair. After 63 Christmases together, I just noticed his expression this week. That feels…perfect.

I’m so thankful for your presence, for your attention, and for the human urge to gather meaning at the closing of the year; for the words, the singing, and the traditions we uphold; for our stupid imperfections, for our ability to continue to care, and for all the ways we allow ourselves to believe that the ordinary might yet become extraordinary.

Peace,
~Elizabeth

To add just a touch more sparkle to your season, I’m offering two more songs. Because SINGING! First, a brand new Pogues cover from Brandi Carlile and crew. To quote one of the comments: “An absolutely riotous masterpiece of love. Period.”

And this one, not new at all yet still so very relatable, from Australia’s Tim Minchin.

The most precious gift for independent writers like me is knowing this work has found a friend. Your reading is the heart of it, your comments the soul. Chicken Scratch is always free, because I want it to be accessible to everyone, no matter their means. Anything else you are able to offer is a kindness for which I can’t ever express enough gratitude. See you in the New Year!