Golden Spiders

The Golden Spiders

I apologize for the delay in my blog postings; I was vacationing in San Diego and only recently returned, so now I will be able to return to my regular blogging schedule. 

Happy 2013 by the way! Glad that we all made it through 2012 as opposed to the alleged Mayan Calendar theory. When the doomed hour of December 21st was "a-coming" I was giving a presentation at a middle school back in San Diego. During the audience question-segment of the presentation, one of the students very calmly raised her hand to say, "Excuse me, Ms. Faxon, but we have one minute until the world ends." To which the classroom erupted into excited predictions of what would happen when the clock struck noon. At the front of the class I stood there observing the students with an entertained smile on my face. Never mind the fact that the clock had already struck noon around 2/3rds of the world's surface, the world would end when it struck noon on Standard Pacific Time because as San Diegans we presume ourselves to be the center of the universe. (I'm sure that as their clocks approached the doom's day time people around the globe were on similar wavelengths with the classroom full of middle schoolers before me.) The clock struck noon and a breath of complete silence filled the room for a second until I started laughing leading everyone else. I then proceeded to tell the students that I was sorry that their expectations of the world ending instantaneously were not met before I continued my presentation on pursuing one's dreams.

The tale that I had prepared for the holiday season was one that my grandmother used to tell me as I was growing up. My grandma was one to tastefully decorate her home for every season and it made every day seem more bright. I remember that she used to have a porcelain (I think) Christmas tree that her neighbor had made for my dad in the 1950s. It sent glimmering lights of red, orange and white across the very 1970s style white, brown and yellow tone-striped wallpaper. When I think of Christmas at grandma's, the first things that come to mind are: an absolutely enormous plate of holiday cookies in pink saran wrap that our neighbor and the leader of our beautiful community would bake for us; the smell of pine, candles, and decorations that had been sitting in storage too long (you know the smell); big-bulb Christmas lights, the type that are probably illegal in the state of California now; a strip of leather used to hang from the back of the door that held a chain of silver bells - the crisp sound of their jingle in that house still rings in my ears; and, of course, music. Regardless the season, there was always music playing at grandma's house. The first song that I learned how to play on an instrument was "Silent Night" on the Lowery's Organ that sat in the front of our home by the big, white door. (Random side note, but the old-fashioned iron-door-handle used to slip out, which was fun to play with as a child. The door also had a cage-style eye-hole, which was useless if you wanted to sneakily look out to see who was there...but the door was usually wide open anyway, so I guess that it really didn't matter). There was nothing like Christmas at grandma's house. 

Every year around the silver-bell time, three golden beaded spiders would emerge among the decorations for the season and this is where their tale begins. In one of the books that I have written, one of the main characters who is a reverend, tells his congregation the following tale that my grandmother used to tell me. I believe the original story of the spiders has German origins, but if you know better, please feel free to share! Enjoy:

In that space of time the reverend stared at three faux-gold beaded spiders perched atop a mess of silver tensile on the far side of the room. The story of the three spiders briefly popped into the reverend’s head. He was very familiar with the tale of the arachnids being very curious about a tree, which came into their home. From their corner in the living room, they happily watched the family of the home adorn the tree with all sorts of sparkling decorations and candlesticks aglow. Once the family decided that their task had been one well done, the people left the living rooms to adjourn to their beds. The spiders took the opportunity to look at every limb and trinket upon the tree. They oohed at the golden beads. They awed at the knitted angels. But they were most struck and most impressed with the beautiful glass star that crowned the mighty tree. Quite simply, it was the most spectacular thing that the spiders had ever seen. Feeling satisfied by their explorations, the spiders lowered themselves to the ground, only to discover in great horror that they had unintentionally completely covered the entire tree and decorations with their webbing. The spiders began to wail and cry because they thought that they had had ruined the hard and magnificent efforts of the family with their mess of web. They wept from their despair. However, a shimmering light appeared and an angelic voice spoke to the three spiders and he said to them, ‘But, no, look again,’ and in an instant the grey web turned to silver tinsel and the three spiders glittered like gold from their unintended gifts. The tree was not ruined, but changed into something even more great. 

The reverend smiled to think of this story, which he told every year to the children of Providence on Christmas Eve with the intended message that no matter how messy or entangled life could sometimes become there is always a chance for a happy ending if one only looks at the situation another way. The changed perspectives of the spiders warmed the reverend's heart even though indeed his present situation  still appeared to be very dark.