One of the things I like most about the holiday season is that people seem to be smiling more than usual. It’s often in anticipation of being together with family who lives at a distance. Just like the old days when we were growing up, people planned far in advance where they’d be this week of the year—together with family.
It wasn’t in any book,, but I think I heard it on a TV movie, as I was passing through the den, “We are our best selves when we are with family.” That sentence hit me as true. While we may take the people in our lives almost for granted, because we see them daily, we seem to prize and cherish times with those who come to be with us from a distance. It means they really want to be together with us, and that’s a present in itself.
When we’re children, all we can think of at Christmas are Santa, lights, tree, and maybe music. We take it for granted if we have a tiny role in a school play, a row of 14 people will fill to cheer us on. We count on our family to surround us with memories of who we are, when we are young, and who we were, when we are older.
Last week two of our team members, Patti Wade and Marci Ramirez, visited some of our community’s senior friends. Although both went to many separate locations, they returned with similar stories. The friends they saw also attracted them meeting strangers who were also thrilled for company. Smiling faces create other smiling faces. Many hugs were exchanged.
If you’re alone this holiday season, one thing you can do to bring the spirit of Christmas is to share yours with others. Nothing cheers us up, when we are missing our loved ones, than to be with others who want or need us there.
Do you remember holiday gatherings when you were in elementary school? If your family all gathered together to have a meal, do you remember the “kids table” and the adult table? One of the things that was important to me, as I got older, was when I finally got to join the adult table for a meal. It meant I’d grown up sufficiently to be trusted with the good china. It also meant I could hear the adult conversation in the mix, and it was then that I saw my relatives through different eyes.
I found myself appreciating that their lives before my time had been harder than we had it then. There were not all the latest technological advances there are today. Part of their conversation was reminiscing about their lives, but also reminiscing about my life that far. They would tell me they remember me at age 5 or age 10 doing something that I really loved. I then remembered that they were there to see me playing in a soccer game or something that was important to me as a child.
Beyond the happiest of times and memories, I remembered that, over the years, we had some family members who were not present as they had been in years past. When we spoke of them at family gatherings again, it was like they were there with us. Maybe that’s part of your childhood, too.
The first year without a beloved relative can be the hardest, but so can the fifth year, or the twelfth year without them. Time doesn’t change how we feel when someone we love isn’t with us any longer. The examples of the adults around us help us model our reaction and response to loss. Many times we hear “It’s our first Christmas without them,” and I can remember someone saying, “Yes, but it’s their first Christmas in Heaven with those who went before them.” That brought comfort to hear. Again, it’s whatever you hear from those who are part of your faith structure growing up.
Then, there are the children and adults who have found them spending Christmas as patients in hospitals. Some are anticipated visits; others are entirely unplanned. How do you create Christmas in a hospital for your loved one. Actually, there are many creative parents who have moved mountains to do just that. Seniors who are in the hospital for long-term recuperation are always happy to see groups of carolers coming by to sing to them.
I remember many of our church’s choir members would go on annual caroling trips to visit our homebound members and then they’d go to our area hospitals (there weren’t as many then as there are today!) to visit and sing in front of hospital room doors. The patients loved hearing the music; even the nurses seemed to enjoy it. Every patient kept saying “Thank you for coming” and the looks on their faces, I heard, were amazing.
Christmas not only signals the birth of a savior, a child sent to save us all as a gift to mankind from God, but it also marks a time for renewal—of faith, of hope, and of a vision of what another new year on the horizon will bring to us. The anxious anticipation with which a family welcomes a newborn baby is the kind of fresh, new joy that we should all welcome Christmas each year.
Sometimes, though, it’s hard to find Christmas in our hearts when we’ve suffered a loss of some kind, whether it’s a health setback, loss of financial security, or a loved one passing away at Christmas. It’s easy to sit on the sidelines and watch others enjoying the holiday, while we are feeling numb, or maybe not feeling anything at all. That’s the reality of loss. If you have children, you put on a brave face and go through all the motions so that the little ones in your life don’t miss out because of what they still don’t understand yet. They’re all still at the “little kids” table stage of life.
But the spirit of sharing has an unexpected side effect. The more we do for others, the less we think about our own needs or wishes or losses. Maybe you collected food for the Brazos Food Pantry. Maybe you gave funds or time to a cause that your office group undertook for the holidays and you gave toward that project. It could be that you rang the bell for the Salvation Army for a two-hour stint in the cold. Maybe you packed Priority Mail boxes for military personnel overseas who would be thrilled to receive a package from home, even from a complete stranger.
How many of your televisions are tuned to classic movies right now, ones that you used to watch with your grandparents? Seeing them again, perhaps, reminds you all of time spent together.
Everyone copes with loss in different ways in the days, weeks, months and years since losing them. There’s no one right way to grieve and everyone must find their own way to healing. Time and good friends help. In times when you feel strong, think about writing down some of your memories of the best days of your life with those who’ve gone on before you. Every time you record a fact, it’s a way to keep them alive in your memory and in your heart. You will find yourself smiling before too long.
Every year we remember the birth of our savior and tell his story, so that we never forget it. In keeping that tradition sacred we keep the spirit of Christmas alive in our hearts. The more we do for others, the less we worry about our own troubles. May your Christmas Day bring you happy memories of times shared with loved ones, and an opportunity to create new memories that future generations will always remember. Merry Christmas!
