"Oh, David! Did you make that?"
"No, I bought it at the 5th grade bazaar!"
I admit, I immediately assumed he'd bought it for me. Doesn't it look like something you would pick out for your mother? But before I could take it from him and give him a thank you hug, he said, "I bought something for Mary!"
"Oh, you bought this for Mary?"
"Not this! What I got for Mary is in my backpack."
"Oh?" I was getting confused. "Then who is this for?"
"This is for me," he replied.
I'll be honest. I was surprised. But mostly confused. It just didn't strike me as something he would pick out for himself. For clarification I asked, "The Christmas decoration is for you?"
"It's not a decoration. It's for hunting wolves! You put it in the forest, and a wolf sees the bird and comes to eat it. And that's when you kill the wolf!"
"Oh, I see." And suddenly it was all so clear.
With that explanation, we climbed in the car and drove to pick up Mary.
When Mary emerged from school, I jumped out of the car to hug her. She wasn't much interested in a hug. Instead, she was distressed.
"Mom!! We have to celebrate Saint Lucy!"
"What?"
"We have to celebrate Saint Lucy!!! Today!" she demanded, with desperation in her voice.
"Oh. Saint Lucia? Did you learn about Santa Lucia's Day today at school?"
"Yes! We went to the elementary classroom and learned about it. And we HAVE to celebrate it. TODAY!"
Mary is a rule follower. And suddenly celebrating Saint Lucy was the rule of the day. (Even though, technically, Saint Lucy's day had been the day before. But don't tell Mary that!)
Now, I know friends and family members who participate in lovely Santa Lucia celebrations in their homes and churches. It seems like a wonderful mid-December celebration. I admit, I've been a tad jealous. But we've never had reason in our family to adopt it into our traditions. We are not Lutheran. While my kids and I have Scandinavian blood, we aren't immersed in Scandinavian culture. The closest we've come to visiting that part of the world has been living in Wisconsin. So it always felt like, for our family, it would be a little contrived to acknowledge Saint Lucy and her day.
I tried to let Mary down easy.
"Well, Mary, Saint Lucy's Day isn't something we normally celebrate in our family. We're not really prepared to celebrate it. I think it's a great idea. Maybe we can do it next year."
"No, Mom! We HAVE to celebrate Saint Lucy! TODAY!"
She was near tears. It was obvious we were going to be celebrating Saint Lucy, one way or another. I started racking my brain for any tidbits I could think of: girl in pretty white (and blue?) dress with a crown of candles ... and food. Of course there was some kind of special food, right? But I was coming up pretty blank.
"Well, Mary, how do you celebrate Saint Lucy's Day?" I was seriously worried I was going to have to pull out that sewing machine I don't own to get to work on that white dress I could never make. And how would I fashion a crown of candles? And have I ever made any Scandinavian food?
"With candles and gingerbread."
"That's it? Just candles and gingerbread?"
"Yes. We need candles and gingerbread."
And, so, that evening, on December 14, we had the most pathetic Saint Lucy's Day celebration of all time. When we did the advent calendar, reading from the Book of Mormon about Christ and singing a few Christmas carols, we lit an extra candle or two. "Look, Mary! It's our candles for Saint Lucy!" Fortunately, a week ago Greg and the kids did like last year and made an awesome gingerbread house, thanks to an activity sponsored by BFF Bailey's church. "Here, Mary! Gingerbread for Saint Lucy! Eat it!"
Well, they insisted on a couple of pictures of their creation before picking it apart ...
Thus, with our extra candles and stale gingerbread house, our little girl was appeased. And hopefully Saint Lucy herself wasn't too appalled.
But, if Lucy happens to be into wolf hunting, we were at least prepared for that.
* It's hard to even think about yesterday without crying. My own kids and their friends ... they are the same age. I'm sorry, I can't write anything about it.
