Holiday Thoughts

Being home for the holidays is always wonderful. It was an incredible long weekend with friends and family. Did a little drinking, a little hunting, a bit of story telling and a LOT of laughing, but I started off the weekend by reading these thoughts from Mama Philosopher and I felt compelled to pass them along:

Isn’t what we really need this time of year one more sweatshirt with Santa falling off his sleigh? The other day I was on hold to speak with someone at Sam’s Club to answer a question about a gift for my husband. The gentleman helping me had a distinct accent and so we spent a few minutes trying to understand each other. Finally, I was put on hold, or at least he thought I was on hold, but, actually, I was overhearing another poor sap talking to another Sam’s employee with another foreign accent trying to purchase that perfect gift. Finally, when I was put on hold, I spent another ten minutes listening to the most beautiful Christmas song about the babe Jesus. It was a moment in all the many moments that lead up to the celebration of our Savior’s birth. Not sure what the feeling was I was experiencing while listening to the song; sort of an eclectic mixture of emotions. Mostly what I felt was shame, guilt and longing.

The shame, I believe, came from the realization that somehow in all the preparations what I really spend the least time preparing is my heart. My heart knows what to do, my mind leads me astray somehow each holiday season. My hear feels heavier this time of year; the poor look poorer; the homes needing repairs somehow look even more needy. The stories I hear day in and day out in my practice as a counselor somehow seem sadder. My heart is trying to be heard. I do my giving tree bit. I don’t pass a bucket without dropping some bucks, and there have been times during the season when I give to my clients, anonymously of course, because God knows I wouldn’t want to be unethical or allow tem to know I have a heart at all. Always in the back of my mind during Thanksgiving and Christmas is this vision of me and mine working at a shelter or handing out food to the homeless. But somehow I know we would get there late ‘cause no one would want to get up, or it may intrude on my kids’ plans to party with their friends, or, God forbid, there might be a football game on at the same time.

The guilt I felt listening to the Christmas song while on hold probably has to do with the reality I choose to repeat year after year…the same routine of preparations. I bake the cookies even though we are overweight with high cholesterol and borderline diabetes. I buy the gifts even though all through the year I and those I love get what we need or want when we need or want it. My guilt is acknowledging it is not others, not my family keeping me from changing the way I prepare for Christmas, it is me and my need to keep it going. Nostalgia takes over and I obsess about doing it the way I did it last year and the year before and the year before that. My kids are not kids anymore; they are 19 and 23 and I still find myself counting to see if they both have the same number of gifts under the tree. Do I do this for them or me? This may be the important question. When it comes down to it, it is easier, less awkward, less risky to keep repeating what was done before than to try something new. I would risk seeing some disappointment in their faces if there were no gifts on Christmas morning. I would certainly hear a few whines if the food was not on the table. So the earthly needs would go unsatisfied. But if we did the things I dream of doing as a family, take an active role in providing for others, sharing our blessings…how satisfied our hearts would be.

The feeling of longing I felt listening to the story of the baby Jesus’ birth probably had something to do with hope someday I will have the courage to do it right. Someday I will listen more to my heart and less to my head. Someday I will choose to take the risk of disappointing family, abandoning tradition, and instead listen to the little voice inside of me. The little voice kept quiet for too long.

Note: This would have been longer but the timer on my oven sounded and I had to get another pan of cookies out before they burned. And the doorbell is ringing, maybe another box from QVC…