From the doghouse to the Nativity

Sophie and I are both in the doghouse this evening, though I am more acutely aware of it than she is. In fact, she seems not to care. This morning a friend and I sat sipping coffee and remarking that Sophie was having the time of her life chasing squirrels, running at border collie-speed across the yard but, mercifully, not barking except for an occasional yip. We talked about what a high time she was having without bothering anyone..

Wrong! Jordan came in at noon, and I could immediately tell that someone was in trouble. She announced that it didn’t maker her happy to buy lights and string them on the fence only to have them torn down as Sophie jumped against them in her unending quest for a squirrel or two. She had ripped them and, yes, tonight two tiny sections light but not the glorious string of previous nights.

Tomorrow, I’ll buy replacement lights, and Jordan will hang them on the outside of the fence. But a bit of the joy was dimmed today.

And Sophie wasn’t through. I let her out tonight, and she began jumping at the fence again, so I noisily put out her food. She came skidding in, stepped in the bowl of food, and scattered it to the four winds. I swept it into a pile, but before I could get it in the dustpan, she began to eat it. It was a slow process, so I swept the remainder into her dish, and she ate half, just finished it tonight when I came home after an evening out.

I went with friends to the opening of the nativity scene exhibit at the Museum of the Americas in Weatherford. We had a delicious dinner before at the Fire Oak Grill—wedge salad, scallops, and mashed potatoes. Good food, good wine, good conversation.

The museum features native work from North and South America, so there was a range of nativity scenes, an entire room full of them. I marveled at individual creches, from semi-life size to tiny and intricate, each with full explanatory signage. What an undertaking it was to do all that signage. Some were bright and colorful, others more somber. The scene that attracted the most attention was a nativity of bunnies—no other animals except a couple of sheep. By Santa Fe artist Jose Ortega. Fascinating, though I had to ponder a bit about replacing the holy figures with bunnies, essentially comic figures--not sure I got the joke.

But as a practicing Christian, I sat in the only chair in the room and soaked up the idea that the birth of Christ inspired so much art, so varied in approach and theme. It was overwhelming, and I just let the idea roll over me, bringing a certain peace. In these troubled times, we foresee the end of things…and yet the story of Christ’s birth has been with us for centuries, and nativity scenes since the Middle Ages, according to a plaque in the room. It’s a comforting thought and a nice one to carry with me into this holiday season when we’re beset by sex scandals and nuclear threats and selfish politicians who would tax us to death.

Thanks to Harold and Elizabeth Lawrence for once again welcoming us to their museum and a super exhibit. If you’re in the Metroplex and haven’t visited this small, private museum, make it a point to do so.

Tired tonight, and glad to be home, but feeling peaceful and refreshed. May the Lord shine the light of his face upon you. And so we head into December--can you believe it?