I remember when I was a little kid, I couldn't wait for Christmas. God, there was just so much anticipation and excitement. I used to be able to sing "Silver Bells," to myself and find tingly warmth in my heart all of a sudden -- all those Christmas warm goodness came rushing in all at once.
Now, I feel like Christmas is a major term paper or school project that I just haven't finished. It is all in stages. There's the requirement of bringing the kids to the Christmas in the Country horse rides. Extra credit for bringing apples or carrots for the horses. If you miss the deadline, there is no make-up because there is only one day for that. Then there is the Santa Pictures that is a required component of the assignment. There are only 2 weekends that allow you to get that done. For extra credit you can order pictures and send to the family. I've missed the extra credit for the past couple of years. Then there is the optional project of sending out Christmas cards for which you must write a newsletter. The newsletter can be done in November but the actual mailing tends to fall by the wayside. I've got cards addressed and stamped from 2 years ago. I have to add stamps to them to send them because the postage has gone up twice since I didn't send those cards out. Of course there is the compounded guilt when I get Christmas cards from family and friends. There have been less of those because I've missed sending out cards for the past 2 years. The advent wreath assignment is particularly tricky because I've been foiled in the past by the general unpopularity of pink and purple taper candles. Either everybody else has cleared them out or I'm not looking in the right place. There is also the looming deadline of getting presents and shopping done. Because all family live far from us, we've got to consider shipping times. There are no easy wish lists for our relatives and I hate the guileless present of money (although it is my fall back position) so there is much agonizing over what to get. Plus there is the added bonus of my husband's birthday coming on the 9th of December. This means that I've got to plan some kind of birthday celebration in the middle of all this holiday stuff. There is also the assignment of putting up the trees and decorating. This part of the project must be done the day after Thanksgiving and no sooner. There is the daily task of making sure that the Wise Men are making their way to the Baby Jesus. This goes on for ages because they don't make it to Him until Epiphany. Thankfully we're not terribly popular people so there aren't a plethora of Christmas parties to go to. That would mean I'd have to shop for a Christmas outfit on top of everything else. Who knew this Christmas magic assignment was so hard?
I think I may get a failing grade.
Then there is the part of Christmas that hurts my heart every year. Unpacking the Christmas books and seeing the one that Dad read to Riker right before he went to take his shower. There is the unexpected listening to "O Little Town of Bethlehem" on the radio -- the song Dad was singing when he was walking behind me as we went to receive the Eucharist. There is the memory of my teasing him that there was no way I wanted to leave home for Christmas the following year. He made the plea to the whole family that we all go to his house for the next Christmas. We did, but not the way he wanted. There is unpacking the snowball candle that was a gift from my friend Sharon. When Dad died, we lit that candle every evening while we prayed the rosary for him. He was even in on moving the Wise Men around the living room. That last morning, he was singing "We Three Kings." I flew into a panic because I had forgotten to aid them on their journey. I remember trying to shush Dad, but I didn't know that he had already moved them for me. I remember him getting out his uke and playing every morning. Before, I used to sit with him and learn while he played, but that year, with the busy Christmas season, I missed my opportunity for a good jam session with him. It is funny, I can't remember what I had for breakfast yesterday but I have absolute clarity of the weeks before Dad died. I know that it would make my father incredibly sad to know that Christmas is forever altered for my family and me. He loved this time of year.
Right now I have just finished reading what I wrote. The part of me that likes each of my essays to have a clear direction and theme can't stand what I've written. It is disjointed -- light in the beginning and sad towards the end. Heck, what do you call this part? But I think this is what Christmas has become for me. I'm still disjointed. I find the joy of the season through my kids -- getting glimpses of their magical anticipation of the day. And then I feel the mourning that Christmas has come to represent for me. I spend the whole season in this emotional ping pong game -- with the abundant busyness of the season to distract me.
And so I'm off to shop today -- get Princess the Magic Bullet blender she saw on TV and just must have. I need to plan the next couple of days -- packing our schedule with horses, pictures and even a birthday party. At least this is better than the assignment from Jan. 1.
Taxes.
Now, I feel like Christmas is a major term paper or school project that I just haven't finished. It is all in stages. There's the requirement of bringing the kids to the Christmas in the Country horse rides. Extra credit for bringing apples or carrots for the horses. If you miss the deadline, there is no make-up because there is only one day for that. Then there is the Santa Pictures that is a required component of the assignment. There are only 2 weekends that allow you to get that done. For extra credit you can order pictures and send to the family. I've missed the extra credit for the past couple of years. Then there is the optional project of sending out Christmas cards for which you must write a newsletter. The newsletter can be done in November but the actual mailing tends to fall by the wayside. I've got cards addressed and stamped from 2 years ago. I have to add stamps to them to send them because the postage has gone up twice since I didn't send those cards out. Of course there is the compounded guilt when I get Christmas cards from family and friends. There have been less of those because I've missed sending out cards for the past 2 years. The advent wreath assignment is particularly tricky because I've been foiled in the past by the general unpopularity of pink and purple taper candles. Either everybody else has cleared them out or I'm not looking in the right place. There is also the looming deadline of getting presents and shopping done. Because all family live far from us, we've got to consider shipping times. There are no easy wish lists for our relatives and I hate the guileless present of money (although it is my fall back position) so there is much agonizing over what to get. Plus there is the added bonus of my husband's birthday coming on the 9th of December. This means that I've got to plan some kind of birthday celebration in the middle of all this holiday stuff. There is also the assignment of putting up the trees and decorating. This part of the project must be done the day after Thanksgiving and no sooner. There is the daily task of making sure that the Wise Men are making their way to the Baby Jesus. This goes on for ages because they don't make it to Him until Epiphany. Thankfully we're not terribly popular people so there aren't a plethora of Christmas parties to go to. That would mean I'd have to shop for a Christmas outfit on top of everything else. Who knew this Christmas magic assignment was so hard?
I think I may get a failing grade.
Then there is the part of Christmas that hurts my heart every year. Unpacking the Christmas books and seeing the one that Dad read to Riker right before he went to take his shower. There is the unexpected listening to "O Little Town of Bethlehem" on the radio -- the song Dad was singing when he was walking behind me as we went to receive the Eucharist. There is the memory of my teasing him that there was no way I wanted to leave home for Christmas the following year. He made the plea to the whole family that we all go to his house for the next Christmas. We did, but not the way he wanted. There is unpacking the snowball candle that was a gift from my friend Sharon. When Dad died, we lit that candle every evening while we prayed the rosary for him. He was even in on moving the Wise Men around the living room. That last morning, he was singing "We Three Kings." I flew into a panic because I had forgotten to aid them on their journey. I remember trying to shush Dad, but I didn't know that he had already moved them for me. I remember him getting out his uke and playing every morning. Before, I used to sit with him and learn while he played, but that year, with the busy Christmas season, I missed my opportunity for a good jam session with him. It is funny, I can't remember what I had for breakfast yesterday but I have absolute clarity of the weeks before Dad died. I know that it would make my father incredibly sad to know that Christmas is forever altered for my family and me. He loved this time of year.
Right now I have just finished reading what I wrote. The part of me that likes each of my essays to have a clear direction and theme can't stand what I've written. It is disjointed -- light in the beginning and sad towards the end. Heck, what do you call this part? But I think this is what Christmas has become for me. I'm still disjointed. I find the joy of the season through my kids -- getting glimpses of their magical anticipation of the day. And then I feel the mourning that Christmas has come to represent for me. I spend the whole season in this emotional ping pong game -- with the abundant busyness of the season to distract me.
And so I'm off to shop today -- get Princess the Magic Bullet blender she saw on TV and just must have. I need to plan the next couple of days -- packing our schedule with horses, pictures and even a birthday party. At least this is better than the assignment from Jan. 1.
Taxes.
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