Thoughts on Christmas
I haven’t always loved Christmas. For a variety of reasons, but mainly because the Santa myth upsets me and because I have spent a lot of my life as not-a-Christian.
My husband’s family loves Christmas, and now that I am all-the-way a Christian I have been trying to love it too. My mother-in-law, Nancy, especially loved Christmas, and she and I had many long conversations about why Christmas could be such a magical time of year. I never truly captured the magic of it in my heart, but I tried because my mother-in-law is that compelling and I wanted to be like her.
My dad died the week before Christmas a couple years ago and that was heavy on my mind last year. Then my mother-in-law passed away in April and this past Christmas was our first without her. To say that Christmas is once again an emotionally hard time of year doesn’t really capture how much I struggle to see the joy and magic of the season.
I was dreading this Christmas - without my dad, without my husband’s mom, and with a weariness in the places they used to exist, I wasn’t looking forward to it. I invited my mom to spend the night on Christmas Eve so we could be together in the morning; we spent the evening making cookies and treats and singing (not very Christmasy) songs. The next morning we slept in and took our time eating breakfast and opening gifts.
It was a quiet Christmas, and sad in many ways. But when I think back on it now that the fog of the season is starting to lift from me, I can see a little bit of magic. The quiet enjoyment of baking with my mom; my husband playing my favourite songs on the guitar. My mom taught me an Irish lullaby, and we sang it together.
I miss my dead people. I find myself once again shrouded in feelings of anger and loss. But I am grateful for the people who are still here. I am grateful for my mom spending the evening with me, and teaching me old songs. I am grateful my remaining parents are close enough that I can spend time with them.
The magic that I felt, albeit small, was this: there is room enough in me to experience joy even when I am angry. That wasn’t always true; I have a lot of experience being angry and that emotion used to push out everything else and I pulled it around me like a shield. Miss Nancy taught me this: that it is important to feel all the feelings, and not to push out happiness when things aren’t going well. Anger makes an appearance, but it isn’t allowed to put down roots.
My husband’s family loves Christmas, and now that I am all-the-way a Christian I have been trying to love it too. My mother-in-law, Nancy, especially loved Christmas, and she and I had many long conversations about why Christmas could be such a magical time of year. I never truly captured the magic of it in my heart, but I tried because my mother-in-law is that compelling and I wanted to be like her.
My dad died the week before Christmas a couple years ago and that was heavy on my mind last year. Then my mother-in-law passed away in April and this past Christmas was our first without her. To say that Christmas is once again an emotionally hard time of year doesn’t really capture how much I struggle to see the joy and magic of the season.
I was dreading this Christmas - without my dad, without my husband’s mom, and with a weariness in the places they used to exist, I wasn’t looking forward to it. I invited my mom to spend the night on Christmas Eve so we could be together in the morning; we spent the evening making cookies and treats and singing (not very Christmasy) songs. The next morning we slept in and took our time eating breakfast and opening gifts.
It was a quiet Christmas, and sad in many ways. But when I think back on it now that the fog of the season is starting to lift from me, I can see a little bit of magic. The quiet enjoyment of baking with my mom; my husband playing my favourite songs on the guitar. My mom taught me an Irish lullaby, and we sang it together.
I miss my dead people. I find myself once again shrouded in feelings of anger and loss. But I am grateful for the people who are still here. I am grateful for my mom spending the evening with me, and teaching me old songs. I am grateful my remaining parents are close enough that I can spend time with them.
The magic that I felt, albeit small, was this: there is room enough in me to experience joy even when I am angry. That wasn’t always true; I have a lot of experience being angry and that emotion used to push out everything else and I pulled it around me like a shield. Miss Nancy taught me this: that it is important to feel all the feelings, and not to push out happiness when things aren’t going well. Anger makes an appearance, but it isn’t allowed to put down roots.
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