Guinevere Claus is Coming to Town

The story of the beautiful Queen Guinevere leaving adorable Richard Harris with a bowl-cut is one of the worst cinematic (but also theatrical and literary) tragedies in history, and if it weren’t for the wonderful music, my parents probably wouldn’t have let me watch Camelot so young (granted, we never watched the entire second half because adultery). Still, each year, “It’s May! It’s May! The lusty month of May!” rings out from my record player for reasons of nostalgia and general merry-making. Last year I started a tradition of making and delivering May-Day baskets, or rather rekindled it, as my mother used to do this with me when I was very young.

On my way back from my journey around the neighborhood this morning, a sweet older neighbor ran outside with two bouquets in hand: this year’s collection of button daisies and roses, as well as the one from last year. “I keep it hung on my wall” she said, pointing to the faded purple cone of dried blooms.

I owe my love for all things celebrations to my mom. When she was 12, she led a homespun parade through her neighborhood, recruiting local kids to sing and dance and march in Christmas costumes. My mom appeared, of course, as none other than Mrs. Santa Claus on roller skates. The newspaper did a write up on it. She made front page.

This last week, after my seniors had finished their study of Pride and Prejudice, I decided to throw a tea. We had scones, cookies, lots of berries, and plenty of laughs as we talked and watched the BBC version together. It reminded me of my high school days where I would force my friends to picnic with me in the middle of campus, lugging baskets of teacups and chicken sandwiches onto the school bus in an attempt to make the everyday a little more special.

Is is extra? Yes. My mom and I were discussing how our celebration drawers (two big drawers stuffed with gift tags, pretty ribbons, streamers, banners, and doilies) could benefit from a little Spring cleaning. But my philosophy is that if Jesus’ love is extravagant, we can afford to be a little extra sometimes, too. And there’s nothing wrong with that.

2 Corinthians 13:14 “The amazing grace of the Master, Jesus Christ, the extravagant love of God, the intimate friendship of the Holy Spirit, be with all of you.”

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