Posts Tagged ‘Christmas’

My first appointment with my dentist of over a decade, was on December 24th. At the end of the check-up, he gave me a toothbrush and a lovely Christmas box of Belgian chocolates. I knew I had finally found my dentist, as there was something reassuring in a dentist who would both acknowledge and support a sweet-tooth. No longer would I have to floss & brush extra well to eliminate any evidence of having committed the dental sin of having used my mouth for eating. My new dentist was a realist.

That Christmas, like every other, I probably ate more chocolates than one should, because knowing better, isn’t always an effective deterrent in keeping us from doing things we shouldn’t. Easter is another day on which I will probably eat too much chocolate. Though Easter has nothing to do with chocolate, it seems chocolate is integral to most of our holidays. Unfortunately, holiday traditions, often obscure what we are celebrating. Christmas is celebrated as if it is the most important day of the year, but Easter is the true centerpiece of Christianity.  Without Easter, Christmas has little, if any significance.

I cannot remember a time when religion wasn’t part of my life. I was raised by a mother whose Catholic upbringing was deeply ingrained in her. She was one whose faith was as vital to her existence, as the blood in her veins. Her beliefs were imposed upon me, until the time when she no longer felt as comfortable being  Catholic. At that time, she began a religious odyssey exploring other religions, taking me along for the ride.

Another child, might have been ambivalent, but I was at least as curious as she, because even as child, religious teachings always filled me with questions.  I remember sitting through mass, trying to make sense of things which made no sense to me. I couldn’t have been more than four, as I squirmed in the pews of an old church, wondering why good people, like my father, who weren’t good Catholics were doomed to burn in Hell with bad people like murderers.

My mother’s quest for truth soon had me well-versed in the teachings of various religions, but it didn’t eliminate my questions.  Even now, when I listen to religious leaders, I am mentally noting things about which I have questions, or against which I might argue.  This might lead one to believe, I have an adversarial view of religion, but in fact the opposite is true.  In my mind, every believer should have questions, because religion which requires no faith, is meaningless dogma devoid of mystery or wonder.

Because of this, I have respect for atheists.  While there are many atheists who resemble the religious leaders they hate; narrow-minded persons who wish to suppress the views of anyone who doesn’t believe as they do, I have known just as many who will freely admit that though they don’t believe in God, they know there is a possibility they are wrong.  In this respect, some atheists have more integrity, than their religious counterparts, because most religious folks are afraid to admit they might be wrong.

Faith usually brings about the conviction that God is real, but it is part of the equation of religion, to believe in something one cannot prove.  I will readily admit, my faith in God and Jesus is blind faith.  I can no more substantiate the existence of the God of  the Old Testament, than I can the existence of the unicorn.  Additionally, my faith in this god requires me to believe all other gods are false. Likewise followers of other deities, believe their god is real, and mine the imposter.

Religion which requires no faith, moves into the realm of things we can prove, like science.  If we could prove beyond doubt the existence of a supreme being, we would all be more or less obliged to pay homage, as we would to a dictator.  In the absence of proof, even those whose personal experiences have convinced them of the existence of God, must be willing to accept the unexplainable or the supernatural.

But not all religions are faith-based.  Many religions pressure followers into embracing things unwillingly.  I have been exposed to sects, which turn the problem of skepticism back on the believer–as if it is the failing of the individual which prevents them from knowing God.  Coercion is an effective way to convert the unwilling, but it is a very poor substitute for faith.

I am not convinced every spiritual experience has merit, nor do I believe all moral teaching comes from the same god working under various pseudonyms, but our spiritual experiences are as unique as we are.  I am Christian because it is easy for me to realize I am not like anyone else.  Knowing that if billions of people could exist without duplication, it seems logical that their creator would know their flaws and peculiarities.  A malevolent god would destroy the flawed, yet we each exist with our own unique nature and will.  Certainly God knows we are better suited for failure than perfection, yet somehow, he seems to have a measure of patience with mankind.  Only with this kind of god would there be a place or purpose for someone like me–a gal who whose nature has always been irreverent and provocative, a gal who asks questions and tests boundaries.

I am convinced God, like my dentist, knows me.  He knows I don’t always get it right, but because of Easter, that’s not a deal-breaker.  He knows most of us will be distracted today by things that have nothing to do with what we are supposedly celebrating.  I’m sure He wishes we’d do better, but at least he isn’t He isn’t surprised.  I believe God “gets me”, and even though He’d prefer I were the kind of person who would readily focus all my thoughts on the profound significance of Easter, he knows I’d miss the chocolate.

Many may disagree, but I believe being single is an art.  Some people are better off alone, but most of us crave company.  Long before we are old enough to date, we tend to function in pairs. We have favorite siblings, best friends, and special relationships with one or both parents. We aren’t well-adapted to functioning without partnerships of one sort or another.

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Being single doesn’t come naturally to most.  I didn’t marry for 10 years after I moved away from home.  This gave me  more than a decade to practice the art of living single.  I never perfected the skill, but I became good at  functioning as a unit–even if most of my free-time was spent trying to figure out how to change my status from “single” to something more cooperative.

Most of my girlfriends got married soon after high school.  I followed college with an apartment and a job.  I spent most of my time doing the things that singles do.  That decade would have been better-spent trying to accomplish something of import, but I mostly went from place-to-place having good times.

The world is biased in favor of the traditional lifestyles.  One would think that singles should have more fun, but many things are tailored to those who are coupled, married or raising children.  At no time is this more true than during the holidays.  This is unfortunate, because those who are alone may find themselves facing loneliness, malaise or depression.

There are no Valentine cards designed to be “returned to sender”. There are no Thanksgiving cards depicting a table-for one, nor Christmas cards featuring a lone soul enjoying a grand tree without gifts–or people with whom to share them. Unless you are orphaned, chances are you don’t spend every holiday alone, but even Mormons & Catholics sometimes find themselves flying solo through the holidays. I have.  One needn’t be a psychologist to realize people don’t like being alone on days which are symbolic of warmth and love.

I’ve spent many holidays alone.   I suppose there was a time when it bothered me, but it’s been so long ago, I don’t remember.  At some point in time, I had adjusted my mindset and it no longer bothered me.  I began to think of holidays as days on a calendar with only exactly as much significance as I placed on them.  I could celebrate them (or not) and not feel disadvantaged if I should find myself alone.

One Thanksgiving I was hanging out in my apartment, without a dinner invitation, it was just another Thursday.  On that day, a girlfriend called me.  She had contracted a severe case of holiday blues, because she was without a place-card at anyone’s Thanksgiving table. I suggested she come over for Thanksgiving dinner. I didn’t have a Thanksgiving dinner, but I figured we’d throw together something.

On that cold & rainy November day, we jumped in my truck and headed to the nearest grocer to buy the stuff we’d need for our impromptu feast. A turkey would have been two large, so we settled for a small chicken, which was large enough to take away holiday despondency.  Having a chicken, made it no less Thanksgiving than it would have been with a turkey.  We enjoyed a very nice afternoon, preparing our repast and the knowledge of being there for each other. We easily rose above what might have been too sad to celebrate.  The fond memory of that Thanksgiving signifies an important knowledge and practice. I knew beyond that day, I could define and enjoy my own holiday–with or without family.
So if a broiling hen is as good as a tom turkey, would the holiday lose anything if it were celebrated with a turkey sub or chicken nuggets?  Where are the rules on which activities are acceptable or a line determining how far one can depart from tradition before the holiday is canceled out?  I haven’t answered that, but I’ve come close.

I remember one Christmas, when after the presents were opened and the wrappings discarded, my brother was bored.  He suggested a trip to the car wash.   Washing cars on Christmas Day is not part of holiday tradition, but my brother can be very compelling.  Before long, he & I were headed to the car wash–not the drive-thru, but the U-Wash-It.  A pocketful of quarters buys the opportunity to clean your own car with a jet-engine-loud vacuum and 8 minutes of soapy water sprayed out of a turbo-charged water gun.  (Hot Wax only 50 cents extra).

On a cold December day, wielding water guns would be odd, but on Christmas day it seemed ludicrous.  Nevertheless, I’ve always been a team player.  We vacuumed, sprayed, shammied and laughed.  While others were sitting in theaters watching the latest Christmas film release, we were outside playing with water guns.  Far from tradition, but much more fun than sitting silently in a dark theater.  Other Christmases, with him, we’ve improvised Christmas trees from bushes and branches, shoveled driveways, invented delays to torture the kids by keeping them from their presents until well after noon, and generally enjoyed the very best of holidays.

Though a roasted goose & plum pudding may sound like the perfect holiday, I’ve come to realize a chickens or a car wash can be even better.  In this season when many people experience the letdown of coming to terms with a-less than Dickens holiday, a little advice to those who find themselves alone.

When you were little, adults defined what traditions you’d embrace.  Unless you still need adult supervision for everything, it’s time to enjoy being all-growed up.  This is what you dreamed of as a kid, you’re finally in charge and you get to make the rules for your holidays.  Which means that Valentine’s day doesn’t have to be about romance.  Thanksgiving can be celebrated with cheeseburgers.  Christmas can be spent doing whatever you feel like doing.  Of course it’s better if you don’t spend it alone, but remember there will be others, who being held hostage by their families, will be wishing they could trade places with you.

Your life is NOT a made-for-TV movie, nor is it a Hallmark card.  Once you accept this, you may find it can be even more perfect and every bit as beautiful.

Despite my Catholic upbringing, I’m not into saints.  There are many who petition saints with requests, bit not I.  I can name a handful of saints and tell you what they are patrons of, but that’s where my saint stuff ends–with two exceptions.  I’m still devoted to two saints.   I believe in St. Francis of Asisi, more accurately I believe the words of his prayer.  I learned it when I was very young, but the words still seem like a good credo to live by for those who would like make the world a better place.

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I’m also still devoted to St. Nicholas.  I think he’s the patron saint of religious holidays gone secular, but despite that, I like him because he’s generous and good with children.

I feel sorry for Santa.  Like Bin Laden & Elvis, Santa is always at the center of rumors about his life, death and whereabouts.  He gets a lot of flack for taking away from Jesus’ rightful position as the center of Christmas devotion, but his public approval ratings are much higher than the president’s; and judging from the fact people let their kids sit on his lap, it is apparent we trust him more.

So what if Santa isn’t real?  Like St. Francis, I haven’t outgrown believing in what he stands for.  I figure if he sees me when I’m sleeping and knows when I’m awake, he’ll probably read this, which will save me the cost of a stamp & the trouble of finding a zip code for The North Pole.

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Dear Santa,

I know it’s late in the season, but it’s taken me this long to figure out what I want for Christmas.  I’m a little old for toys, but I still rather like receiving a delight on Christmas morning.

At my age, I shouldn’t be asking for anything except maybe “Peace On Earth” or something.  World peace sounds like what a beauty pageant contestant would ask for, but I don’t believe it’s possible.  Maybe because I’m not perfect, I have trouble believing in a perfect world–maybe if I had perfect hair and perfect teeth, like a beauty queen,  it would be easier to believe in that sort of thing.
(Santa, just between you & I–I figure if people who love each, like brothers & sisters or husbands & wives, eventually stop getting along, it’s probably not realistic to expect the whole world to get along any better.)

So it’s like this . . I’ve got lots of stuff, I don’t really need any more.   I spent the first half of my life accumulating stuff, and will probably spend the second half trying to figure out what to do with it all.   I’ve reached the stage in life when saying “Please, don’t get me anything” isn’t just a courtesy, but an honest plea.  Last year, I spread the word that I didn’t need or want any more stuff.   As a result, I got nice consumable gifts like cookies, chocolates and nice bottles of spirits.   The truth is, I’ve drank enough wine and eaten enough chocolate in this life, I’d probably be better off without those too.

To keep it real this year, I’m going back to nature.  I’d like to enjoy each season and all it’s gifts, like autumn leaves and winter snow.  I’d like to enjoy the color of new growth in the spring and the first blooms of flowers that follow.   Mostly, I’d like to enjoy the seasons that surround me as I watch my children being who they are and becoming who they’ll be.

I’d also like some laurel branches.  It would be nice to have laurels to crown the heads of those around me when they do well, with maybe a few left over for me when I deserve them.

Lastly, I’d like to have some butterflies–the really good kind.  I want the kind that come upon us when we are anticipating something good, like the birth of a child, or the home team winning a championship.  The ones I want are the kind which fill the stomach when that special person does the thing that makes us fall in love all over again.  I’d like to have butterflies on Christmas morning–and I’d like it if my kids had them too.    If that’s too much to ask for, I could really use a new clock radio.

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Prayer of Saint Francis of Assisi

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.
Where there is hatred, let me sow love;
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
and where there is sadness, joy.

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek
to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.
For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.

After spending a weekend scurrying through holiday activities, I lost Monday–a day I needed.   The busy weekend, left my wits were dulled, my energies lulled and my productivity nearly annulled.  My excuse?  Tis the season, the season in which there is always too much to do.

With just a little over a week until Christmas, everyone is checking their list.  This time of year, the everyday to-do list is augmented by the Special Holiday Edition to-do list, including the Christmas shopping list, and the holiday mailing list.  On this list ordinary tasks are joined by extraordinary tasks like decorating the yard, whipping up something from a cherished family recipe or staying up late to finish some holiday surprise.  Whether it’s cleaning, cooking, parties or pageants; it’s nearly impossible not to become exhausted.

Yet, at this time when we are stretched, most of us neglect the one thing which would most likely ensure a more enjoyable holiday–REST.  The great irony is at the time when it’s time to relax and enjoy the holiday, nerves are frazzled and goodwill toward men is waning.  As family and friends begin to gather, we find ourselves asking how we wished for  “White Christmas” but instead got Snow White’s pals Grumpy, Dopey and Sleepy.  (Except, instead of being short, they are merely short-tempered.)  Is it any wonder our holidays don’t look like Norman Rockwell’s?

With this in mind, a new holiday tradition is in order–taking time to rest and regroup.  When it isn’t possible to get enough sleep at night, make time during the day to relax and rejuvenate.  Slow things down even briefly.   Writing cards or paying bills at a favorite coffee house, may be all it takes to allow you to unwind.  You can take a break to enjoy a massage or pedicure or slip into a tub of warm bubbles to relieve tension and fatigue, but if you really want to recharge, I suggest a nap.

This isn’t the wimpy nap associated with babies or old people–this is the real deal, the big Kahuna, the power nap.  A quick little catnap of about 20 minutes will leave you feeling sharper and better rested than a full-fledged nooner-nap.   Twenty minutes–short, but, oh so sweet!

I’m a big devotee and proponent of the short snooze.  Many are the findings and studies on why such a small rest produces such big results.  I’d cite some here, but you’d be tempted to read them, which would require you to be awake.   Trust me, your time would be better spent with your eyes closed.

Happy Holi-Doze!  Sleep in heavenly peace.

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…

Certainly, Charles Dickens was referring to the holiday season when he penned those words.  It is the best of times for children who have the luxury of just waiting for the sweets, gifts & festivities.  It is the worst of times for those who attempt to orchestrate the magic.

Fall is fading, and the holiday season, with it’s shopping-days numbered, is upon us.  There are only a few weeks in which to hang lights, buy gifts, prepare the house, abuse the credit cards and become a testy wreck before the holidays.

I’m not a Grinch, but the season exhausts me.  Each year, I vow to simplify, to separate the tinsel from the tangible to focus on what really matters.  Then, before you can say “On Dasher and Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen”, I’m in the kitchen making red & green popcorn balls, or braiding boughs of holly.  I’d enjoy Christmas more if it wasn’t over so quickly.   I like having a tree, lights and decorations, but the effort required for them, never seems to be worth their short-lived glory.

Still each year, as I put away the dishes from the Thanksgiving feast, I am eager knowing once the wishbone is broken, the Christmas season has begun.   I anxiously wait for the first moment of awe for the newly hung Christmas lights, and the time when it is officially acceptable to play Christmas carols.

I don’t mind the shopping, cooking or cleaning, but dread the decorating and despise the wrapping of gifts.  I am inconvenienced by the way that the month of December is commandeered by invitations and obligations.  I fear the inadequacy I’d feel if I didn’t bake cookies for the kids or find the right presents.

I’ve put the Christmas mix on to get me into the right spirit.  Listening to a few carols, I will contemplate the season and prepare my mind.

First cut: Deck the Halls

Who can resist the catchy tune with a fa-la-la-la-la refrain?!?

STOP! Don’t listen–it’s a trick! Subliminal programming intended to get me off the couch to start decorating.  What is with the gay apparel line?  Does this mean I have to wear awful garments given to me by well-meaning relatives without rolling  eyes or asking for receipts?  Guess, I’d better go retrieve the festive sweater his mother sent.

Fast forward: We Wish You a Merry Christmas.

That’s more like it–nothing but glad tidings in this song–and an edict to produce a figgy pudding.  Mental note to self:  Add figgies to my shopping list.

Skip that song . . What’s next?

Oh Christmas Tree

Delightful.  Oh Christmas tree, oh Christmas tree.  How lovely are your branches.

If the branches are so lovely, why do they require three boxes of  tiny twinkle lights and gobs of glittering glass from the attic?  When do we get to the verse about how to get  pine needles out of the carpet on January 3rd?

Next cut:
Here we go a Wassailing.

Dang, we’re fresh out of Wassail, which is too bad, because I could use a drink about now.  Maybe I’ll just have a beer.  Hey, that’s not bad.  If  I close my eyes, I can almost believe it’s wassail.  In fact, I see tiny reindeer and a benevolent fat man running a sweatshop full of elves busy building me an iPhone.

What’s next on the mix?
Silent night?
Perfect, I’m tired.  I think I’ll turn in and try Christmas again tomorrow. This holiday stuff is starting to make me feel warm & fuzzy–then again, it might just be the beer.