Somewhere in my mind, this notion of “Christmas” ended up becoming the idealization of a moment.
As a child, I had some pretty amazing Christmases. The snow all around the yard in the morning, and the crispness of it through the window in the living room. The tree decked out in lights and bulbs and stars and other ornaments. The family all around each other, with sheer excitement at the opening of gifts. And the gifts I always loved - unfailingly - were the Lego sets. Anything that took time away from those was cruel torment for me.
Yet, my memory had a way of wrapping up all of those wonderful mornings into a blur, and it became the standard for which I judged all other Christmases. If there wasn’t snow, if there wasn’t the joy of receiving, if there wasn’t the remembered moments of years gone by, then it was an odd Christmas. As it so happened, I have had about six or seven of them, if not more.
I realized that my idealization was for something that was a composite of all the happy moments. No one Christmas to follow would match that. All the Christmases as I grew up were different and almost reflections or facsimiles of those ones in the past. In fact, growing up showed me that getting beyond the receiving end of the holiday makes it almost impossible to go back. I learned in reflection there is so much more to this than what I knew.
My lists for gifts had melted into practical things (I expect and want socks and underwear each year); I find myself forgetting the spiritual reason for this every year; I find myself, against my will, trying to buy the proof of my love for my close friends and family; and every year, I find myself so far askew from where I want to be, spiritually, that I usually end up eating a whole lot of humble pie, while watching seasonal movies and listening to carols.
I always want the essence of goodwill toward men and peace on earth to last longer than New Years, but they never end up doing so. This season brings out the absolute best and ugliest side to mankind, and I wish that we were able to be so mindful all year. Yes, we can be generous, but why does it have to be at a time when it is expected? Yes, we are all disgraceful at our lack of caring, but why can’t get away with apathy in any other month?
When asked how my Christmas was, I find myself answering that it good. And I don’t end up meaning it in the short-nutshell version of I don’t feel like telling you, but good in the sense that I am growing up and learning what it means to be loving to others, how to show it, how to act it, and how to do so with integrity. No I did not get a soap-box for Christmas; but I will get down off of this one now.
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.