Tuesday, December 23, 2008

Closing the Library

No real Library work today, no siree. Don't even think about doing anything on your task list. Today you need to undecorate, normalize and safeproof the Library in preparation for being closed for the next ten days. Plants need to be watered well - soaked in the sink, really. Facilities guys came by and took down the huge wreath hanging over the center railing, the one with the white sparkling lights. They tucked it upstairs in the Fireside Reading Room for later removal after we undecorate the Christmas tree and fireplace.


Money from the copiers was removed and counted in preparation for taking to accounting. Same with the back cupboard money boxes, so as not to leave any large amounts of cash about. The Christmas display of books on the Reference Desk counter was reshelved and a new display on Martin Luther King Jr. prepared.


People were returning books and taking care of fines (we had just sent our last email statements around), and all those books needed to be checked in and reshelved. All food trash would have to be taken outside - no sense treating the critters to an unintentional Christmas brunch. A campus wide email invited anyone hearty enough to still be here to stop by and take home a free poinsettia -several dozen were still looking for adoption.



Staff had decided to share lunch together in the Fireside Reading Room, then take down the tree and decorations. We ordered collectively 6 different entrees from a nearby Chinese restaurant, deciding that everyone could take what they wanted. "No mushrooms!" one staff member stated loud and clear. We ordered one dish with mushrooms just to tease.


After everything was taken care of, I sent staff home early - a small gesture of good will. I would stay to close, assisted by the Director of Collection Services. It was like prying clam shells apart getting them to leave. Oh, they wanted to. But they were torn with last minute things to turn off, take care of, settle. One by one the finally exited until there were only three staff and our student worker.


We made the closing announcements manually - please make sure you check things out now, don't leave anything behind, exit by the front doors, thanks for using our facility. A number of them made their way to the 24 hour area to continue working. Lock the doors. Lower the gates. Turn out the lights. Say goodbye to colleagues and students.


At long last, everyone had left. I was alone in the quiet library. I pulled on my boots, wrapped my scarf about my neck, picked up my bag and headed for the front doors, pulling my office door shut tightly behind me, checking to make sure it was securely locked. It felt good to know the building was secure, everything in its place and nothing left dangling.


I stood in the Information Commons by the silent computers in front of the Reference Desk to take one last look around, just making sure we had not forgotten anything. It was so quiet. Snow drifted down silently in the dark night outside. The building pinged and groaned as the heat, now turned down low, dissipated and the ducts cooled.


I stood for the longest moment, breathing deeply, appreciating the silence, the stillness. The generous openness of the building, still very new and well kept, surrounded me, a coat of protection against the coldness visible through every window. Christmas! I finally have time to think about Christmas. It is nearly upon us. Not the "hurry scurry craziness of gift giving and food eating" Christmas. Not the "decorating and partying and attending or conducting concerts and plays" Christmas. The real Christmas. The one where we silently stand in awe as we realize the amazing gift of a Creator God. That Christmas.


I had not yet taken the time to thank God. To tell him how much his gift blesses me everyday, how much His Love sustains me and touches my heart. In the emptiness of the building, in the silence of the moment, I lifted my face to the tippy top window through which I could see the snow sifting down and smiled.


"Silent night. Holy night. All is calm, all is bright . . ." I couldn't help it. The song welled up within me and rolled out of my mouth before I realized what I was doing. I glanced quickly around to see if anyone was observing. But there was no one there. I continued, boldly and gratefully, "Round yon Virgin Mother and Child - - - holy infant so tender and mild - - - Sleep in heavenly peace, sleep in heavenly peace."


The sound echoed and reverberated throughout the vast cavern, filling the space with the words, then dying away until just the swish of snow falling against the stonework could be heard. "Lord," my heart prayed, "Let your peace cover the entire world tonight. Please." It was as if God wrapped me in his arms, hugging me lovingly. The moment was pure magic. I could not tear myself away. I wanted to stay, there in the quiet semi lighted library with the snow falling quietly about me, safe, secure, at peace.


At long last I heaved a sigh of relief, feeling the tension and burden of the season roll off my shoulders, and walked out the front door, checking behind me to make sure it locked properly. The sense of peace stayed with me a long time, wrapping me against the cold of the wintry night.

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