in 2015 and 2016, I posted stories for Christmas on Facebook. I'm at the life-altering decision making point. If I do it three times, now I have started something.
I looked at both the 2015 and 2016 stories, and they are both amusing and heartwarming. I just don't know if I have another one in me. But I'm going to try. I'm going to use the response I get to this blog posting to decide if this one goes on Facebook or not.
Christmas 2000 was a tough one for me. It was my first Christmas after my Dad died. My daughter and son-in-law (he was still a boyfriend at that time) had gone north to spend the holiday with her dad and my mom and extended family, so it was just me and my husband at home.
Everyone processes grief differently, and everyone processes grief in their own time. For whatever reason, the tsunami of grief from losing my father hit me on Christmas day.
Mind you, there were warnings the tsunami was coming. I made no plans for Christmas dinner. I don't remember if I purchased gifts or not, but if I did, it was in that strange state of fugue that precedes a breakdown.
On Christmas Day, I fell apart. I remember telling my husband I didn't want to have Christmas without my Dad in the world. I cried until my face hurt.
That day had to happen. Those tears had to be shed. The grief had to find an outlet. Christmas was just the catalyst.
After the storm passed, my husband and I did our annual traditional six mile run (it's a walk now) and then went to a movie, which we did on Christmas Day for many years. That year's movie was "Meet the Parents". And I probably laughed as hard as I had cried earlier.
Because of the extended crying jag, by the time the movie ended, all the restaurants that had been open on Christmas were closed. We did have two frozen hamburger patties in the freezer. (When I say I did not plan, I mean an epic lack of planning.)
The only place open was Walgreen's. So, we went to Walgreen's and got a jar of Ragu, a pound of spaghetti, and a package of hot dog buns. I defrosted and broke up the hamburger patties in the Ragu, and we made garlic bread out of hot dog buns. If memory serves me right, we also bought an impressive amount of wine.
We enjoyed our unconventional Christmas dinner, and I found a measure of peace with my Dad's death.
The next day at work when people asked how my Christmas was and I told the story, many were appalled and upset for me. By then, it was just a thing that gave me another story in my story book.
Christmas doesn't have to be anything in particular to be memorable. And sometimes, the Christmas you need includes a crying jag.
All the Christmases in my life, and I remember very few specifically. I remember Christmas 2000 because it was so far removed from the idealistic Christmas.
But that Christmas was one of the most special of my life because of the gift I received. While my husband could have been upset with me for failing to plan well for Christmas, or upset that I cried till my face hurt, or upset that the few plans we had were upended, none of those happened. Instead, he held me while I cried, and when the crying was over, tried to create as much of a sense of normalcy as he could. And while our Christmas dinner was unconventional, spaghetti with meat sauce is one of my favorite comfort foods.
The gift I received that Christmas was the gift that even though I had lost my Daddy, there was still someone in my world who would always protect me, always comfort me, and always support me. Even though I trusted in my husband's love, that day demonstrated the depth and strength of that love in ways I treasure. And then he still found a way for me to end the day laughing.
So maybe, just maybe, that was one of my best Christmases ever.
Saturday, December 23, 2017
Thursday, December 21, 2017
Season's Greetings
I was at my Occupational Therapy session the other day, and the woman next to me receiving therapy said that she wasn't going to "do" Christmas this year. She felt that with running her business, providing care taking for her mother, and rehabilitating an injury, it was just too much. I felt very sad for her.
It is not that I think everyone needs the excess that many feel is necessary for the holiday season. It just made me sad that for her, Christmas is something that you do.
I hear a lot of dialogue about a war on Christmas, and to be honest, I've never seen one. But I have seen twenty-first century America turn the time period from mid-November until New Year's into one giant impossible to complete "to-do" list.
This will probably feel rambling, but if you stay with me, I promise I will bring it all together in the end.
When my daughter was ten or eleven, we were going somewhere at night, and we had to drive past the large Monsanto chemical plant near our home. As we drove past she looked at the well lit plant and said, "Look, Mommy, Monsanto decorated for Christmas". I looked at the plant through her eyes at that moment, and it did look festive, and decorative. I knew that the lighting of the plant for 24/7 operations was normal, but for her, seeing it for the first time at Christmas, it was magical. Whatever holiday your faith or ethnic or chosen tradition celebrates, they all have an element of magic in them.
Things were hectic enough when my child was a child, with presents to buy, and cookies to bake, and Christmas pageants to attend, and houses and trees to decorate. Now we also have this "Elf on the Shelf" thing. If it works for you, and is not just another stress maker in your life, have at it. But the whole idea kind of bothers me. Do we really want our children to be good because someone is watching and reporting? Isn't it our job as parents to teach our children the intrinsic rewards for being good people? That it feels good to be kind? It feels good to be generous? That we all make mistakes, and that we need to learn from our mistakes so we can be better people, not because there will be a punishment?
If you have a faith or ethnic or chosen tradition, what is at the core of that tradition? I'm Catholic, so the core of my faith tradition is the birth of the Savior, Jesus Christ. The season is about hope. It is about the improbable. The birth of a poor child in a manger led to the salvation of mankind. What an inspirational story. If your tradition has inspirational aspects, focusing on those can quiet the noise of the "doing" everyone expects.
And as for the actual days. It can be so easy to have to have the most perfectly decorated house and most perfectly set table, with an array of delicious foods. If getting to that point means that you can't spend time enjoying the company of those you love because you are too busy preparing and serving, maybe scaling things back could work. I remember years ago talking to a co-worker who was stressing about all that she had to do for Christmas Eve, and she asked what I was doing. I told her the truth. On the way home from work, I was stopping at the store and picking up an assortment of sushi and sparkling wines, along with one of those dessert sampler trays. Set things out and celebrate. She was astonished. And started the same tradition for her family the next year. You never know how much time you have with the people you love, treasure the moments you have.
So here is my Season's Greeting for all of you. I hope that you remember the magic, and can see the magic. I hope that you are inspiring all you love through your thoughtful goodness, and that you are forgiving yourself when you fall short, and learning so that you do better next time. I hope you are inspired by the spiritual aspects of your chosen holiday, and are spiritually restored by the observation of exceptional generosity and charity in your world. And finally, I hope you are able to hold those you love close in your heart, if not in your arms, and find the ability to focus on making memories with them or celebrating memories of them. Most of all, I hope you remember that the holiday season can always be turned into a giant "to-do" list, but you can turn it back into a time of joyful celebration with the people you care the most about.
It is not that I think everyone needs the excess that many feel is necessary for the holiday season. It just made me sad that for her, Christmas is something that you do.
I hear a lot of dialogue about a war on Christmas, and to be honest, I've never seen one. But I have seen twenty-first century America turn the time period from mid-November until New Year's into one giant impossible to complete "to-do" list.
This will probably feel rambling, but if you stay with me, I promise I will bring it all together in the end.
When my daughter was ten or eleven, we were going somewhere at night, and we had to drive past the large Monsanto chemical plant near our home. As we drove past she looked at the well lit plant and said, "Look, Mommy, Monsanto decorated for Christmas". I looked at the plant through her eyes at that moment, and it did look festive, and decorative. I knew that the lighting of the plant for 24/7 operations was normal, but for her, seeing it for the first time at Christmas, it was magical. Whatever holiday your faith or ethnic or chosen tradition celebrates, they all have an element of magic in them.
Things were hectic enough when my child was a child, with presents to buy, and cookies to bake, and Christmas pageants to attend, and houses and trees to decorate. Now we also have this "Elf on the Shelf" thing. If it works for you, and is not just another stress maker in your life, have at it. But the whole idea kind of bothers me. Do we really want our children to be good because someone is watching and reporting? Isn't it our job as parents to teach our children the intrinsic rewards for being good people? That it feels good to be kind? It feels good to be generous? That we all make mistakes, and that we need to learn from our mistakes so we can be better people, not because there will be a punishment?
If you have a faith or ethnic or chosen tradition, what is at the core of that tradition? I'm Catholic, so the core of my faith tradition is the birth of the Savior, Jesus Christ. The season is about hope. It is about the improbable. The birth of a poor child in a manger led to the salvation of mankind. What an inspirational story. If your tradition has inspirational aspects, focusing on those can quiet the noise of the "doing" everyone expects.
And as for the actual days. It can be so easy to have to have the most perfectly decorated house and most perfectly set table, with an array of delicious foods. If getting to that point means that you can't spend time enjoying the company of those you love because you are too busy preparing and serving, maybe scaling things back could work. I remember years ago talking to a co-worker who was stressing about all that she had to do for Christmas Eve, and she asked what I was doing. I told her the truth. On the way home from work, I was stopping at the store and picking up an assortment of sushi and sparkling wines, along with one of those dessert sampler trays. Set things out and celebrate. She was astonished. And started the same tradition for her family the next year. You never know how much time you have with the people you love, treasure the moments you have.
So here is my Season's Greeting for all of you. I hope that you remember the magic, and can see the magic. I hope that you are inspiring all you love through your thoughtful goodness, and that you are forgiving yourself when you fall short, and learning so that you do better next time. I hope you are inspired by the spiritual aspects of your chosen holiday, and are spiritually restored by the observation of exceptional generosity and charity in your world. And finally, I hope you are able to hold those you love close in your heart, if not in your arms, and find the ability to focus on making memories with them or celebrating memories of them. Most of all, I hope you remember that the holiday season can always be turned into a giant "to-do" list, but you can turn it back into a time of joyful celebration with the people you care the most about.
Thursday, December 14, 2017
Things to be proud of
I read a Facebook conversation this morning about the difference between white pride and black pride. The point of the original post was that white pride doesn't make sense, because "white" is an artificial construct, while black pride makes sense because the place identity of many African Americans was stolen from them when they were stolen from their homes and sold into slavery.
I embrace the idea of black pride being a product of history. All of us like to belong, and for many, belonging is attached to origin. People wear green on St. Patrick's Day and claim to be Irish, drink beer for Oktoberfest and claim to be German, celebrate Bastille Day and claim to be French. If you can't know where your people came from, other than a continent, I get the idea of solidarity with the other people from that continent, and I understand that in the historical evolution of language in America, the time when the black pride movement originated predated the term African American and postdated the term negro. So, sociologically, emotionally, and linguistically, black pride makes sense.
But now is when I throw a curve ball into the whole thing. I understand the need to belong to something bigger than ourselves, but why do we try to belong to something based on the accident of our birth?
What is wrong with being proud of what we do, and how we act, and how we think, instead of being proud of the mix of DNA we were born with?
If you read this blog regularly, you know I had my DNA analyzed earlier this year. I found out that in spite of being raised believing I was of German descent, and relatives having emigrated from Germany, I have no German DNA. It looks like my relatives stopped in Germany on their way from Scandinavia to the United States. This knowledge didn't change who I am in the least.
The knowledge that your DNA doesn't match your family stories might be more difficult for some people than it was for me. Maybe because I never based my identity on my national heritage. I'm one of those people who cries at the playing and singing of the United States National Anthem, but I'm not one of those people who bases my identity on being a citizen of the United States of America. I was fortunate to be born here, into a family who had enough money that I always had a roof over my head and food in my stomach. That is not a matter for pride, but a matter for gratitude.
I'm proud that in spite of getting pregnant in the tenth grade at fifteen years old, I persevered and got a Bachelor's degree in Business Information Systems in college. I'm proud that once I decided on a career in Occupational Safety and Health, I pursued and achieved my Occupational Health and Safety Technician certification, and my Certified Safety Professional certification.
I'm also incredibly grateful that I was born with the physical and emotional strength, and the family support to achieve those goals. Without my family's help and support, none of what I have achieved is possible.
When I think about pride and being proud, without that pride becoming destructive, the pride is always tempered by the gratitude for the people who made the accomplishment I am proud of possible.
While our needing to belong to something bigger than ourselves is a powerful force, that need should never overwhelm our consideration of exactly what we are claiming to belong to.
Pride should be attached to accomplishments, not labels. Being proud of being kind, being humble, being generous, being compassionate are all great. To think that a person can say they are proud to be Christian or Jewish or Muslim and think that means something is delusional. When I say or write Christian or Jewish or Muslim, each reader paints their own picture of what that means. Those terms are too broad, and too influenced by too many factors. While kindness and humility and generosity and compassion are also interpretive, they are far less ambiguous than religious categorization.
The same thing goes for nationalistic labels. Why are you proud to be Irish or German or French or Nigerian or Kenyan or Egyptian? Why not say you are proud to be hard-working, or punctual, or well-read, or well-prepared, or well-practiced or reliable?
I think if more people based their pride on what they do and how they act, rather than being proud of the group or groups they were born into, we could all find more common ground. And if we stopped joining groups so that we could label ourselves as Christian or Jewish or Muslim or Republican or Democrat, and instead found pride in being and doing something, maybe we would see we are all more the same than different.
It does not make me angry if you want to be proud of the accident of your birth, or be proud of the group labels you have chosen to take shelter under. I just hope that we can all start examining our beliefs and our behaviors, and seek to believe and behave in ways we can be proud of.
I embrace the idea of black pride being a product of history. All of us like to belong, and for many, belonging is attached to origin. People wear green on St. Patrick's Day and claim to be Irish, drink beer for Oktoberfest and claim to be German, celebrate Bastille Day and claim to be French. If you can't know where your people came from, other than a continent, I get the idea of solidarity with the other people from that continent, and I understand that in the historical evolution of language in America, the time when the black pride movement originated predated the term African American and postdated the term negro. So, sociologically, emotionally, and linguistically, black pride makes sense.
But now is when I throw a curve ball into the whole thing. I understand the need to belong to something bigger than ourselves, but why do we try to belong to something based on the accident of our birth?
What is wrong with being proud of what we do, and how we act, and how we think, instead of being proud of the mix of DNA we were born with?
If you read this blog regularly, you know I had my DNA analyzed earlier this year. I found out that in spite of being raised believing I was of German descent, and relatives having emigrated from Germany, I have no German DNA. It looks like my relatives stopped in Germany on their way from Scandinavia to the United States. This knowledge didn't change who I am in the least.
The knowledge that your DNA doesn't match your family stories might be more difficult for some people than it was for me. Maybe because I never based my identity on my national heritage. I'm one of those people who cries at the playing and singing of the United States National Anthem, but I'm not one of those people who bases my identity on being a citizen of the United States of America. I was fortunate to be born here, into a family who had enough money that I always had a roof over my head and food in my stomach. That is not a matter for pride, but a matter for gratitude.
I'm proud that in spite of getting pregnant in the tenth grade at fifteen years old, I persevered and got a Bachelor's degree in Business Information Systems in college. I'm proud that once I decided on a career in Occupational Safety and Health, I pursued and achieved my Occupational Health and Safety Technician certification, and my Certified Safety Professional certification.
I'm also incredibly grateful that I was born with the physical and emotional strength, and the family support to achieve those goals. Without my family's help and support, none of what I have achieved is possible.
When I think about pride and being proud, without that pride becoming destructive, the pride is always tempered by the gratitude for the people who made the accomplishment I am proud of possible.
While our needing to belong to something bigger than ourselves is a powerful force, that need should never overwhelm our consideration of exactly what we are claiming to belong to.
Pride should be attached to accomplishments, not labels. Being proud of being kind, being humble, being generous, being compassionate are all great. To think that a person can say they are proud to be Christian or Jewish or Muslim and think that means something is delusional. When I say or write Christian or Jewish or Muslim, each reader paints their own picture of what that means. Those terms are too broad, and too influenced by too many factors. While kindness and humility and generosity and compassion are also interpretive, they are far less ambiguous than religious categorization.
The same thing goes for nationalistic labels. Why are you proud to be Irish or German or French or Nigerian or Kenyan or Egyptian? Why not say you are proud to be hard-working, or punctual, or well-read, or well-prepared, or well-practiced or reliable?
I think if more people based their pride on what they do and how they act, rather than being proud of the group or groups they were born into, we could all find more common ground. And if we stopped joining groups so that we could label ourselves as Christian or Jewish or Muslim or Republican or Democrat, and instead found pride in being and doing something, maybe we would see we are all more the same than different.
It does not make me angry if you want to be proud of the accident of your birth, or be proud of the group labels you have chosen to take shelter under. I just hope that we can all start examining our beliefs and our behaviors, and seek to believe and behave in ways we can be proud of.
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