"I wish I had a river..."

"It's coming on Christmas,
they're cuttin down trees
They're puttin up reindeer
and singing songs of joy and peace.

I wish I had a river
I could skate away on

It don't snow here, it stays pretty green
I'm gonna make a lot of money
And I'm gonna quit this crazy scene.

I wish I had a river
I could skate away on...

I wish I had a river so long
I could teach my feet to fly

Oh, I wish I had a river,
I could skate away on…"
- Joni Mitchell

Joni Mitchell's "River," was my anthen one Christmas almost 30 years ago.  I was house-sitting, living alone in the hills above Malibu and I knew no one.  I had accepted my sister's offer to come to Los Angeles, while she and her husband worked out of state for six months.  She had suggested that it might be the perfect opportunity for me to clear my head…and my heart…after a long-term relationship had ended.  It sounded like a good idea,   I needed a fresh perspective on everything – relationships, life purpose, dreams and desires –  and a change of scenery would do my heart good.  It also came at a good time for me as a teacher.  So that summer I decided to not renew my teaching contract, sold (or gave away) everything that wouldn't fit in a small suitcase and an orange crate, and drove over three thousand miles in five days.  I arrived in the land of movie stars and palm trees on Labor Day weekend and had a job by the time my sister left to join her husband a week later. 

However, by Thanksgiving Los Angeles had lost its romance and sparkle for me.  I was lonely and scared.  My daily commute took an hour each way and my paycheck didn't go as far in the land of milk and honey, as it had in rural New England. 

I wanted to go "home", but I couldn't afford the gas or a plane ticket, and I had committed to caring for my sister's house and pets until they returned. 

Each evening I would return to their tiny cottage in the Malibu hills, walk and feed the dogs, and then I would put Joni on the turntable and wait for the first strains of, "It's coming on Christmas…" - and cry.  

I thought about buying a little tree and decorating it with tiny white lights, like I had every year since high school.   But each night as I drove past the Christmas tree lot on my way home from work I would see this wild-haired guy selling them in a tee-shirt and shorts, while Christmas carols blared in the background against the roar of the flocking machine…and I'd get even more depressed.  Just the thought of a pink, blue or yellow flocked pine tree made me want to point the nose of my car east and drive until I ran out of gas…wherever it was…and never look back.  And anyway, my mother and six of my younger siblings would all be in the Midwest for Christmas, so who would I have to enjoy it with.

One evening I decided to walk the dogs by the lake at the bottom of my sister's hill, and there I saw a flyer posted on the bulletin board outside of the village community center.  They were looking for volunteers to help with the Annual Christmas pageant.  The children in this small village put on a show each December and it was completely run by parents and other volunteers from the lakeside community.  I was a teacher, or at least I had been "back home" (sniff, sniff) and I loved working with children on theatre projects.  I took the dogs back up the hill, fed them and grabbed a sweatshirt before heading back for that night's rehearsals. 

Within minutes of walking through the door I was put to work.  There were shepherd's crooks to make out of wire and duct tape, a baby doll needed to be painted a soft cocoa brown to match the ten-year old "Mary's" complexion, and they actually needed someone to take the lead on designing flyers to advertising the one performance of the season, and I got tapped to do it.  All of a sudden, I was part of something…I belonged somewhere.

Within days I had neighbors, friends, and invitations for one Christmas gathering after another.  Soon, the play's director was calling me at work to see if I could look for the blue satin for Mary's scarf on my lunch hour.  A mom would bring an extra croissant to rehearsals in case I hadn't had time to eat after work.  A dad who worked for the school district brought me the postings for open teaching positions in the district and offered to act as a local reference.  And the nicest thing of all… if, because of my commute I was late to rehearsals, there were people who actually knew that I wasn't where I was supposed to be, and were relieved when I finally arrived.

One night after rehearsals I offered to bring some costumes home for altering and suggested that a mom and her three young actors come by for a fitting very early the next morning before school and work.  The littlest girl noticed immediately that I didn't have a Christmas tree and I assured her that I was fine since most of my time was spent at the community center where we had a big Christmas tree set up.  And I was…I was loving my time with my neighbors, and I had been invited to join the family of three shepherds and an angel for Christmas dinner.  I didn't need my own Christmas tree.  We finished the fittings and we were all out the door as the sun came up. 

Later that day, I stopped at the tree lot and bought a tiny little tree from the guy in shorts. As I pulled up in front of my sister's cottage to walk the dogs before rehearsals I realized that my little tree wasn't just for me…it was for everyone who loved me and needed to know that I was going to be alright.

I pulled the tree, already positioned on a small stand, into the living room and before long I had it strung with sparkling white lights and had carefully placed the glitter-covered pine cones and hand-cut paper snowflakes I had received from some of the children I had become friends with through our rehearsals, on its branches.

The dogs had been let out, but were eager for their walk in the hills behind the house so off we went as dusk set in.  When we came back up over the hill toward the house I stopped in my tracks.  Through the front window I could see my Christmas tree.  It sparkled like diamonds and beckoned me home. 

As I left for that night's rehearsal I felt the warmth of home and hearth…family and friendship…something I never thought I could feel in a place where they sell Christmas trees in shorts and tee-shirts under palm trees.

I had learned that when you give your heart…and your hands…in helping others…you can find home, family, community and friendship anywhere. 

As we sang Silent Night holding hands in our drafty community center at the close of the Christmas pageant, I could actually feel that sense of home and family radiating out from this small village through the starry night to embrace those who felt lonely or lost…wherever in the world they might be.  Today I realize that I always had a river to skate away on. God had given me a heart from which a river of love, a river of giving, a river of service to others flowed…and that I could always skate away on it's solid presence…far, far away from loneliness, depression, or sadness.  We all do.
Kate