Snippets from the Last Holiday Week Away

We spent the week between Christmas and New Years Day with my parents in Williamsburg.  My spouse and I arrived on Saturday, and other family members arrived on Sunday.  We were at my parents' place until Tuesday, when we packed up and went over to Ford's Colony, the Marriott resort in Williamsburg.  My mom had Marriott points that would expire at the end of the year, and we agreed that it could be a fun change of pace.

It was!  It felt like being away, and yet my parents didn't have the travel time that they usually do when we go anywhere at the holidays.  We did a few resort kind of things, like playing Bingo.  But it was really too cold to do much, like get out and walk the trails or go swimming.  I've already written about some of the things we did instead, like watching Chariots of Fire and going to see a Vegas-style magic show.

Let me capture a few other elements of the Williamsburg part of our winter break before they slip away.

--Before we left, on Christmas night, we watched Too Hot to Handel:  A Gospel Messiah.  It was amazing, both on its own and as a way to finish Christmas day and transition to surgery day.

--I've written several posts about my December 26 surgery.  Here's the short version:  I had a shallow, wide melanoma that had to be removed in a hospital.  The surgery went well, and the recovery was easier than I expected (not much in the way of pain or bleeding or interfering with daily life).  The tissue got sent to pathology, and the report came back:  "Clear margins."  Hurrah!

--A week ago, the Sunday after Christmas, we decided to do church from a distance.  My mom and dad and I watched the worship service of Lessons and Carols at home.  There was a moment where my mom was changing clothes in the adjacent room, and my dad and I were singing "In the Deep Midwinter."  I thought about Christina Rossetti who composed the poem which provides the words for the hymn.  I thought about how I've taught her poetry in my literature classes and how I used the hymn for a seminary assignment.  And then I thought about how remarkable it is to be singing it with my dad, he in his 80's, me just turned 60.  I want to remember that moment.

--We had lots of intergenerational engagement, which was grand.  At one point, we played pool in the Billiard room as we waited for everyone to get packed for moving over to Ford's Colony.  I couldn't play because of my arm surgery, but happily, we had others.  The younger generation mentioned having a games night.

--On our last night together, we tried a game that one of us got for Christmas, where there are gibberish words on a card with clues, and all the participants try to make sense of them.  That was mildly amusing but ultimately frustrating.

--One of the younger members suggested Charades.  One of us pulled up a Charades app on the phone, and we had an amazing hour of acting out words.  Happily, it wasn't complicated:  the app chose words that we all knew, like Bride or Fishing.  We were all able to play, from the teenagers to the elders in their mid-80's.  We all stayed engaged for hours, and it was the kind of treat that was all the more incredible, since we all knew what a gift it was.

Clear Margins

Yesterday as we drove back from Williamsburg, my cell phone rang.  I was driving, and my spouse was sleeping, so we didn't answer the phone.  Then his cell phone rang, which woke him up and made me wonder if there was bad news we needed to know about sooner rather than later.

We got the message left on my cell phone; it was a nurse from the melanoma doctor's office who was calling to "discuss the pathology report."  I exited the interstate so that we could call back from a parked car.  If it was bad news, I didn't want to be driving.  It was 4:00 on a Friday afternoon, so I didn't want to delay making the return phone call.

Of course, the nurse was with another patient, so I left a message.  We switched drivers and made our way back home.  The minutes ticked on while we waited for the call.  I wasn't anxious that we wouldn't get a return call, and I wasn't too anxious about the nature of the test results.  I figured that the worst case scenario was that the doctor didn't get it all, and we'd have to do it all again.  Since it hasn't been too bad an experience, that, too, wouldn't be terribly awful--unlike say, if I had to undergo my broken wrist experience again.  I knew that the pathology was on the tissue removed, not anything that would reveal cancer elsewhere: it's not like they did a body scan of some sort while I was undergoing surgery.

Still, it was a relief to hear the nurse say, "Your margins came back clear."  And yes, I clarified, even though I was fairly sure what she meant--they got all the melanoma.  

I feel very lucky, since it's possible that the spot has been there since summer 2024, when it was diagnosed as a bug bite.  It did look like a bug bite, and it's possible that it was, and that the melanoma came in the same spot.  But it's also possible that we missed it for over a year, which means it had that much longer to grow deep and become more dangerous.

Last night, the steri-strips came off my surgery site.  I went home with the site covered in gauze and waterproofing plastic, which we took off 3 days later.  But the steri-strips hid some of the starkness of the surgery.  The melanoma doctor did warn me that it would be lumpy, but I was expecting something like the lumpiness of cellulite, not skin that looked like two ping pong balls had been inserted on either side of an indentation.  

The stitches are underneath and will dissolve, which means there will be less scarring and eventually no lumps.  Happily, it's my arm, not my face, so I'm not too worried.  I'm relieved that there's no bleeding and no pain--not even any discomfort.  I'm trying to remember that I am supposed to take it easy in terms of lifting for the next week (no lifting of anything over 10 pounds).

Let me stress again how lucky I feel.  It could have been so much worse.  It's not how I anticipated spending part of my winter break, but here, too, I'm glad it unspooled during December, instead of other times that would have been much less convenient, like last summer when I was working a full-time CPE internship at the VA Hospital.

Watching "Chariots of Fire" on New Years Day

Yesterday was a great beginning to 2026.  It was a cold day, so we weren't interested in some of the outdoors things we might have done on a milder day.  My parents had been planning to watch Chariots of Fire, and I like that movie, so we decided to have a movie day.

We've all seen the movie before, and we were all surprised by how much we've forgotten.  I thought I had seen it in the years since it came out, and I saw it in the movie theatre.  But now I wonder.

I did remember the main characters, of course.  But I had forgotten how principled both men are.  Eric Liddle stands out, of course--his decision not to run on a Sunday, even though it means he won't actually get to participate in the Olympics, is the part of the movie that many people remember.  The other main character is also making a principled stand by working with a coach to get even faster, even though he's already one of the fastest students ever.

I had forgotten how wonderful the other aspects of the movie are.  What amazing costumes!  What wonderful settings!  And that soundtrack--I hadn't forgotten how wonderful the soundtrack is.

As always, the movie made me think about trying to run again.  Or maybe it's just the soundtrack that has that effect on me.  The running I want to do is not the 100 or 400 yard sprint.  I want long, rambling runs, and I've always run at a very slow pace.

For now, I just need to get back to walking, which I will do, once we get back to more of a semblance of regular life.  My arm is healing nicely from the melanoma surgery, so I can soon return to some weight/strength work.  Let me use the movie as inspiration for 2026, as I look for ways to regain good health.  I'm not far off from good health now, but I am carrying some extra weight--probably another pound or two since early December, but what a wonderful holiday we've had!

Intentions for 2026

Here we are, the first morning of 2026.  We did not stay up until midnight, but we did have champagne after watching my dad's alma mater, the University of Michigan, lose to some school in Texas.  We did some coloring on coloring sheets we made ourselves.  We did not talk about resolutions.

This morning is the time for me to set intentions.  I have four.  Careful readers of this blog might say, "Didn't you have three intentions that you couldn't keep for 2025?"  

I appreciate the power of New Year's Day intentions that tug at me all year long, even if I'm not entirely successful.  This year, I'll have 2 writing intentions and 2 health intentions.  

Writing Intentions

--I'm going to keep one of my intentions from 2025.  Here's what I wrote last year:  "I am not feeling OK about how many poems I am not writing. I do a good job of writing down fragments and inspirations, but I'm also aware that I have fewer inspirations and fragments in the past year or two than has been usual. I want to end the year with 52 poems written, finished poems. They may not be worth sending out, but they need to be finished. Fifty-two poems gives me space to catch up, and space to have a white hot streak that sets me ahead."

--Always hopeful about having a book of poems with a spine, I also plan to create a new collection of poems, with the title Higher Ground.

Health Intentions

--I can no longer find the article that recommended taking a walk after dinner, even a short walk.  I wanted to doublecheck the benefits that the article discussed, but no matter.  For four or more days a week, I want to take a walk after dinner, in addition to the other exercise I get through the day.  It can be a very short walk (the article talked about how the benefit was in the going out and doing it, not in the distance covered)--the goal is to get out of the house and get moving before settling into a chair for the evening.

--I thought about having 2026 be the year I gave up alcohol altogether.  But I realize this about myself:  if I tell myself I can never have something ever again, I often end up consuming more of it.  So, in 2026, I want to have 300 days of no alcohol consumption.  That gives me 65 days where I could drink.  And to be sure that those days aren't days of excess consumption to make the most of them, which often happens when I give myself a splurge day of any kind, I'm going to say that if I limit myself to one drink, that day counts as a half day, not a full day.

So, let's see how I do.  I'm excited about these intentions.

A Look Back: 2025

I've been thinking about my approach to the new year; I have been keeping a blog since 2008, so I also have a fairly easy way to see what I do each year.  Some years, I set intentions or adopt resolutions.  Some years I have a word/phrase.  Most years in the waning days of December, I look back.  So, for today's blog post, let's look back.

My Intentions for 2025

On January 1, 2025, I wrote a blog post where I had three specific intentions for 2025.  Up until the moment that I wrote that post, I had no plans to adopt these intentions.  Let's start with these intentions, as I look back on 2025:

--"I want to do strength training 20 days out of every month, 10 minutes over an exercise session."  Most weeks, I did a day or two of strength training, either with weights, or with the weigh of my body.  That means that most months, I did 6 days of strength training, not 20.  

--"I want to end the year with 52 poems written, finished poems. They may not be worth sending out, but they need to be finished."  I did much better with this goal during the first three months of 2025.  I did end up with somewhere between 15 and 25 finished poems, which is more than I would have had without that intention.

For both of the above intentions, the good thing about those intentions is that I remembered that I had the intention, and throughout the year, the intention called me back, tugged me back to the behavior I wanted to cultivate.

--"I want to concentrate on faces (both from the front and profile) and hands, and not in isolation, but as part of the figures that I draw."  Here, too, I did much better with this intention in the first months of the year than in the last 9 months of the year.  I drew much better faces, when I was concentrating.  I still have trouble drawing hands if they're connected to the rest of the body.

Other Aspects of 2025

--I continue to enjoy teaching.  It was great to teach literature survey classes again.  I revisited some classic texts, which is always interesting, especially as I revisit them at very different times of my life.

--I finished my MDiv degree at Wesley Theological Seminary.  I find it interesting that when I thought about the high points of 2025, the teaching was what came to mind before finishing the MDiv degree.  I'm not reading too much into that.  I finished the MDiv in May and my brain tends to work back in chronology--so since I've been teaching more recently than finishing the MDiv, that's what came to mind first.  It's also because I had such a good fall semester teaching such great students and classes.

--When I went back and counted my non-drinking days, I've been very successful.  I still drink, but I did have a long stretch in the summer where I drank no alcohol.  Stay tuned for my 2026 intention in terms of health.

--I haven't read as many books this year (only 50, if my list can be believed), but at the end of the year, I've been on a reading binge, and I'm always happy to find my powers of concentration still allow me to read a book from beginning to end.

--I finished a quilt top, which I used with an old quilt that I created twenty years ago to create something new.  The old quilt had a back that was in good shape, so I quilted the new top to the old quilt and created a binding/border.  I've continued to put fabric together in ways that delight me.

--My job as a Synod Appointed Minister continues at Faith Lutheran in Bristol, Tennessee.  They like me, and I like them, and although they've tried to find a full-time pastor, those attempts haven't led them to a viable candidate.  Periodically, I remind us all that if the congregation finds a great candidate and decides to offer them a job, I'll understand.  Similarly, we don't know what my Candidacy Committee will decide at various stages.

--In terms of candidacy, I have made some progress on the road to ordination.  I finished my MDiv which some people might think would mean I should be ordained by now.  But I went to a Methodist seminary, so that's not the way that ordination works at this point in the ELCA, the more progressive expression of Lutheran churches in the US.  Over the summer, I did the required CPE training at the Asheville VA Hospital, but I have had to wait until Spring 2026 semester to take the Lutheran Foundations course that I need.  Will I need more classes?  Will I also have to do an internship?  Stay tuned.

Going to a Magic Show

Last night, we did something completely different:  several generations of family went to a live magic show, at the Wagsters Magic Theatre in Williamsburg, VA.   It was more a Vegas style show than a birthday party magician kind of show.  But it's a much smaller space, with 126 seats, than most spaces in Vegas (I assume, having never researched the size of theatres in Vegas).

It was a sold out show, and the audience was more engaged than almost any audience I've seen, outside of my congregation where I'm the minister.  We may have been the only audience members who came without small children (the youngest members of our group are 18 years old).  Every child in my vicinity (I had a seat in the middle of the back row) leaned forward, had gasps of surprise and delight, and the one in front of us said "Wow" every so often.

It was great to be in a room of people who put their phones away and watched the stage.  Because of the small size of the theatre, though, it felt much more interactive--as the performing duo, Brandon and Hannah Wagster prepped the audience to be at the start of the show.

The energy level of the duo and their attention to detail kept me awake, which is saying something these days.  My spouse has studied/watched magic shows for many more years than I have, and he was impressed by their skill in illusion.  It was a great way to spend an evening--much easier than trying to find a movie we would all enjoy.  And it was wonderful to support local, live performances.

The theatre is part of a newer shopping development, an outparcel of shops and restaurants.    My spouse and I have done theatre work in college, both onstage and as part of tech crews, and we were impressed by the lights and the sound, by the way they took a retail space and transformed it into a small theatre.

For a brief moment, I felt overwhelmed by nostalgia and grief, thinking of the small, local theatres in south Florida that have all gone away as their founders moved out of the area or real estate developers swooped in.  I saw some of the best performances of plays I ever expect to see at the small Sol Theatre in Ft. Lauderdale.  It seated about 60, and last night's venue felt similar.  

Happily, the show started, and my nostalgia melted away into gratitude that people are still following their performing arts dreams--and that audiences are still willing to seek out this more specialized kind of live performance.

Reading in the Waning Days of 2025

It's been a great month for reading--less so for writing, but I'll get back to a more regular writing schedule in January.  I've found myself wishing I could go back and repeat some of the reading, most particularly Ian McEwan's What We Can Know.  

Would I wish that I could reread it if I hadn't heard this New York Times Book Club podcast about the book?  Probably.  I knew at the time I was reading it that I would want to reread it.  I zoomed through it the first time just to find out what happened, and I knew I would want an additional read to appreciate some of the other aspects of the novel, outside of the propulsive plot.

My last read of 2025 will be Kristin Hannah's The Women, which I found in the community library where my folks live and where I'm visiting.  I had heard such good things about it, and it, too, is a propulsive novel.  But I can't see myself reading it again, once I'm done.  It made me think about the TV shows M*A*S*H and China Beach.  I've only read 100 pages, so I'm interested if Hannah goes in any unexpected directions or adds some depth to the characters.  So far, there's lots of exploring of the place of Vietnam and the surgical procedures that nurses did under intense pressure during the Vietnam war.

My mom and I spent some time in the community library in the afternoon.  She is always on the hunt for good books, and I had this momentary hope that we might find the McEwan book.  After all, the Hannah book is recent--but it's one of the few in the library published in this century.  We found a John Jakes novel, Charleston, along with another book. 

As I have been doing more intense reading in December, I've remembered my own writing impulses, particularly the novels I thought I would write.  I've been thinking about my writing goals for 2026.  I'm not sure I want to commit to writing a novel in 2026, but I'm not sure I don't.  Let me continue to think:  if I was writing a novel that wasn't going to be intertwined stories, what would the plot be?