Christmas isn't easy for everyone. Sometimes, it can be hard to muster joy, sing a carol or laugh at a party. There may be a temptation to chalk the season up to a fail and hope for a better one next go 'round. But Christmas can't fail because hope exists. It's the very reason we celebrate. If it's Christmas, it's not a failure.
Now, the perception that it's a failure is altogether different. If you measure your house against Biltmore, your romance against a Hallmark movie or your Christmas morning photos against anybody else's Instagram feed, you have a comparison problem. Christmas is the opposite of failure. It's a story of triumph, redemption and miracles. Christmas doesn't require ham or Christmas trees or even your own family:
A few years ago, I heard a beautiful story that I have not forgotten. I share it often this time of year. There was an elderly gentleman who was very sick. He likely would be spending his last Christmas alone. He had no family, only an occasional caregiver who stopped by from time to time. As Christmas neared, his caregiver decided she could not bear the thought of anyone spending their last holiday alone. So, she told her family they would be celebrating on Christmas Eve, and she would be spending Christmas with her elderly charge. Everything – Christmas dinner, presents, photos and family – took place on Dec. 24. On Dec. 25, this amazingly compassionate human carried leftovers from the night before to the gentleman's house where they ate Christmas dinner together. There's more to the story, something extraordinary happened. Later that day, the caregiver reunited the gentleman with his oldest child. They hadn't seen or spoken in more than 20 years. That's the power of Christmas, and that's a great illustration that Christmas doesn't have to look like anyone else's, especially when you choose to focus on someone else.
Hoping for a better Christmas next year is a natural response to a disappointing season, but don't pine for the future at the expense of the present. Take some time to count your blessings or to open your eyes to the beauty of life all around you. You may find yourself smiling and grateful. Here's something I have witnessed this year:
My daughter is an educator. This is her first year teaching. Teachers should be paid a whole lot more than they are, and they should have expense accounts, but they don't. That didn't stop Autumn. She decided to make sure Christmas and the winter holidays are special for her students. She paid for decorations for her classroom. She bought supplies for a Christmas craft project for her students. She decided to hand-make a special gift for her students, and she decided that each of her "friends" – that's what she calls her students – should receive a book for Christmas. She announced her Christmas wish on her social media accounts and within the half-hour, her friends and family had showered her with enough money for her to buy not one, but two books for each of her students. They arrived on our doorstep this week. I complemented her on her heart for her "friends."
"I try," she said.
My reply?
"No, you don't try. You take action."
There's a huge difference between trying and taking action, and the result is something absolutely beautiful. I can't wait to hear the stories she'll bring home from her "friends" opening their gifts.
As the world enters Christmas week, I'm thankful for these reminders, and I'm grateful for the warm – or sometimes laughable – memories of Christmases past:
It's the year 2000, my last Christmas working at the newspaper. Of course, I had to work Christmas Eve. Santa would have to wait until after the news hit the streets. I got home to our little church house on Park Boulevard after midnight. It was freezing and raining, and Santa was bringing a trampoline I, inexplicably, had decided HAD to be put together and ready to use Christmas morning. Lisa and I dressed as warmly as we could and struggled for the next two or three hours putting that trampoline together in the side yard. We slid in the cold mud; we were drenched to the bone, and we were very nearly hypothermic by the time we were done. We stood back to admire our work and realized that our efforts had left muddy tracks all over our side yard. How would we explain the mucked yard to our curious two? By the next morning, on two or three hours' sleep, I had figured out. Ethan and Autumn, just 4 and 2, ran to the trampoline. I don't think they noticed the muddy tracks, but I did, so I pointed them out.
"Would you look at that?" I said.
"What?" the kiddos asked.
"It rained all night last night. It looks like Santa's sleigh and the reindeer left tracks in our back yard."
The magic of Christmas preserved, our little ones jumped and bounced until they were exhausted.
The Griffins, our good friends, lived to the back right of our house. I'll always remember Ethan and Ansley bouncing on their respective trampolines and having a conversation that Christmas Day, or soon thereafter.
"Hey Ans-wee!" Ethan yelled as his feet left the springy surface.
"Hey Ethan!" Ansley, who was three-years older, replied as her head appeared above the hedgerow.
"We got a trampoline!" Ethan advised, popping back up skyward.
The two continued their conversation for several alternating bounces, until it was time to go inside.
It. Was. Amazing.
When Christmas isn't easy, I'm not immune. I'd love to spend another Christmas at my Aunt Connie's with my dad and all of his sisters and brothers gathered around the campfire. I'd give just about anything if two of my mama's cherished Christmas angels hadn't broken when they were accidentally knocked off a shelf. If there could be just one more Christmas when Ethan and Autumn were leaving cookies and milk beside the fireplace and reindeer food out front, we'll, I'd be beside myself.
When Christmas isn't easy, I acknowledge the past, hope for the future, but live in the present. Our tree seems especially shiny this year. This year's Christmas jigsaw puzzle is a humdinger when it comes to difficulty. I know for a fact that there are going to be some very happy people Christmas morning when they open their gifts. And me? When my boy gets off that airplane on Christmas Eve and makes his way to us in the domestic terminal of the world's biggest airport, that's all I need this year. Our party of four will be together once again.
Merry Christmas.
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