I've always been a spring-summer-fall guy. Christmas is the reason. All this frantic-running-around. All this who'd-I-forget-fa-la-la-la-falderal that falls somewhere safely between Humbug-Bah! and Deck-the-Halls.
I'm not Scrooge. Don't think that.
But since my wife died three years ago, it's been harder. Missing her is one thing I won't joke about. Missing letting her do all the work. . .now that's really funny.
Letting her do all the work came naturally. She was just so much better at doing everything:
The cooking!
(We usually went out to eat.)
Cleaning up the house in case friends might venture in!
(We teamed on that, though it usually left the rugs bulging.)
Preparing for guests!
(I ran out and brought back the case of booze.)
Decorating the house!
(I pulled stuff outa storage. She was an artistic Wizard.)
Rolling the dice on gift-giving.
(Who got ahead of us this year? How can we catch up!)
Planning the road trip to family!
(I did the drinking. She did the driving.)
Squeezing in the Bahamas vacation!
(She played intermediary to the travel agent.)
Lying around eating too much!
(That was all me.)
(We usually went out to eat.)
Cleaning up the house in case friends might venture in!
(We teamed on that, though it usually left the rugs bulging.)
Preparing for guests!
(I ran out and brought back the case of booze.)
Decorating the house!
(I pulled stuff outa storage. She was an artistic Wizard.)
Rolling the dice on gift-giving.
(Who got ahead of us this year? How can we catch up!)
Planning the road trip to family!
(I did the drinking. She did the driving.)
Squeezing in the Bahamas vacation!
(She played intermediary to the travel agent.)
Lying around eating too much!
(That was all me.)
We minimized sending Christmas Cards. Nancy was raised Brethren: No drinking. No dancing. No card playing. My largely fallen-away Methodism and common sense minimized drinking. We danced like crazy. (In fact our whole life was one merry dance!).
But a card is a CARD. This may have been the one place where we consciously minimized sin. A dozen cards a year was as much perdition as we dared risk.
It wasn't like we didn't make merry. We did. . .as many days of the year as possible. Nor were we selfish. I mean: generosity feels so good. Mostly a blessing to the giver. Often a nuisance to the receiver. (Who gets the-REgifted tie this year? The solid-rock fruit-cake?)
But when Nancy died the first week of November, 2006. . .I scrapped Thanksgiving, my birthday, and Christmas for the year. I guess I did send my younger daughter her December-birthday check. And Christmas checks to children and grandchildren. But that was more the habit of loving, than celebration. (Which may turn out to be the whole point of this posting.)
By Christmastime-2008, I thought it might do me some good to get back into the Christmas Thing.
You may know how that goes. You've gotten deep into the habit of Acting Okay, so well-meaning family and friends can decide it's not a question that has to begin every conversation.
And then, by some totally unexpected miracle, you realize suddenly that in fact you really are okay. Or at least more okay than you thought you could ever be again. I don't know how that happens. Could be you wear your okay mask so long to fool other folks that your face somehow grows to fit it. Somehow theater becomes reality.
Truth is, I've discovered that much of the good life is theater. I don't mean it's inauthentic. Quite the contrary: life in any context is quite real.
We get much of what we choose, precisely because we have chosen it.
We select the most healthy and productive script we can find, to begin with. But somehow a ready-made script doesn't quite fit. So pretty early in the drama, we have to re-write the script to more accurately suit ourselves. A person pretty much writes-in the role he wishes-for in his own life.
Over a lifetime, he even casts the other players -- his wife, the children and the way they choose to raise them, the friends they earn, the setting they develop together.
A person even chooses the tone of the play and most of the happenings -- the struggles, the goals and outcomes most desired. All these are largely chosen.
Most of us hope we're writing a comedy. To our surprise and delight, most of us even find that many of the scenes in our personal dramas produce far more laughter than tears.
Too-soon, though, tragic events sneak into even the most finely wrought comic plays. Still, we choose, best we can, our responses to all that may happen as our drama unfolds. And when troublesome things occur and cause us tears, with enough determination and courage, we find the will to smile and laugh again. Might take some time, though.
It really helps us to look around carefully at our audience. Even casual observation teaches us none escape loss. We may even come to realize we are -- in many ways -- luckier than most.
Such moments of fond realization are the real Christmas Moments of our lives. They are gifts we give ourselves, as well as gifts we give each other.
These gifts come to us with
But a card is a CARD. This may have been the one place where we consciously minimized sin. A dozen cards a year was as much perdition as we dared risk.
It wasn't like we didn't make merry. We did. . .as many days of the year as possible. Nor were we selfish. I mean: generosity feels so good. Mostly a blessing to the giver. Often a nuisance to the receiver. (Who gets the-REgifted tie this year? The solid-rock fruit-cake?)
But when Nancy died the first week of November, 2006. . .I scrapped Thanksgiving, my birthday, and Christmas for the year. I guess I did send my younger daughter her December-birthday check. And Christmas checks to children and grandchildren. But that was more the habit of loving, than celebration. (Which may turn out to be the whole point of this posting.)
By Christmastime-2008, I thought it might do me some good to get back into the Christmas Thing.
You may know how that goes. You've gotten deep into the habit of Acting Okay, so well-meaning family and friends can decide it's not a question that has to begin every conversation.
And then, by some totally unexpected miracle, you realize suddenly that in fact you really are okay. Or at least more okay than you thought you could ever be again. I don't know how that happens. Could be you wear your okay mask so long to fool other folks that your face somehow grows to fit it. Somehow theater becomes reality.
Truth is, I've discovered that much of the good life is theater. I don't mean it's inauthentic. Quite the contrary: life in any context is quite real.
We get much of what we choose, precisely because we have chosen it.
We select the most healthy and productive script we can find, to begin with. But somehow a ready-made script doesn't quite fit. So pretty early in the drama, we have to re-write the script to more accurately suit ourselves. A person pretty much writes-in the role he wishes-for in his own life.
Over a lifetime, he even casts the other players -- his wife, the children and the way they choose to raise them, the friends they earn, the setting they develop together.
A person even chooses the tone of the play and most of the happenings -- the struggles, the goals and outcomes most desired. All these are largely chosen.
Most of us hope we're writing a comedy. To our surprise and delight, most of us even find that many of the scenes in our personal dramas produce far more laughter than tears.
Too-soon, though, tragic events sneak into even the most finely wrought comic plays. Still, we choose, best we can, our responses to all that may happen as our drama unfolds. And when troublesome things occur and cause us tears, with enough determination and courage, we find the will to smile and laugh again. Might take some time, though.
It really helps us to look around carefully at our audience. Even casual observation teaches us none escape loss. We may even come to realize we are -- in many ways -- luckier than most.
Such moments of fond realization are the real Christmas Moments of our lives. They are gifts we give ourselves, as well as gifts we give each other.
These gifts come to us with
contemplative silence in the night,
supportive arms of love,
sharing of love's golden rings,
family safely around us,
gladness that springs in the heart, upon hearing the
supportive arms of love,
sharing of love's golden rings,
family safely around us,
gladness that springs in the heart, upon hearing the
pealing of celebratory silver bells or sleigh bells, and
passin' 'round the coffee and the punkin' pie.
passin' 'round the coffee and the punkin' pie.
In this way, each day becomes Christmas. And, in the Spirit of the Magi, may we live each day with a joyous heart. Joy is often a choice we make.
I wish you each and all
a Very-Merry Christmas !
CHOOSE JOY!
a Very-Merry Christmas !
CHOOSE JOY!
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