Ghosts of Christmases Past

How Do We Keep It Well?

Just finished a Dickens story, and I read A Christmas Carol every year. Something about the story resonates with me—as he meant it to.

We’ve all felt the sadness that sometimes washes over us at this time of year. Whether it’s the loss of a loved one we feel more sharply because we know that person should be present at all of our gatherings, or the overwhelming list of tasks staring us in the face to the point where we feel unable to even start, let alone complete those lists, the specters get brave enough to hang around. And their presence is heavy.

Sometimes, it’s just the weather that fills the room with “the gloomies.” We think we should be jolly at all the holiday parties, but we stand there trying to find a discreet way to blow our nose, or we watch someone else sneeze right into our own personal space.

Some of us go through mental gymnastics, calculating the risk for each event involving school children right before the Christmas break so we can avoid being sick as we end the “most wonderful time of the year.”

Last year, I attended the much-anticipated Christmas Eve celebration for exactly six minutes before I had to leave and spend the evening sprawled on the floor, hanging my head over a pan. #Disappointed

Memories from my childhood Christmases are not movie-worthy, but let’s not get into that. I think Charles Dickens touches on the very real joy-stealers in his Christmas story. If we focus inward, we can certainly justify our doldrums. He creates characters that you feel you know, like you could sit in their living room and talk with them. What a great accomplishment as a writer. Even the spirits in the tale don’t simply howl & shriek but communicate in thought-provoking ways, don’t they? That’s why the story was such a success. People felt themselves floating around with these very ghosts.

Yesterday, a minister asked the congregation to think back to a childhood Christmas when you wanted a particular present that you thought would just make your life.

“Everyone must remember having that object of desire. That thing you couldn’t wait to tear open on Christmas morning.”

That gets me thinking—I’m sure it’s true for many, but not for me. I remember actually faking a reaction some Christmases as I opened my gifts.

A pretend smile. An exaggerated exclamation.

I did appreciate all the work and time my parents spent preparing—I truly did, but something was lacking.

I didn’t really want a thing. I wanted the experience of Christmas. But I couldn’t find it back then.

And so I set out to create something more meaningful for my family. I spoke to the 🔗 ghosts, opened the windows, and chased them out of my adulthood.

I encourage you to try that.

I can’t speak for my daughters, but I feel warm and fuzzy at this time as I decorate my house with real Frasier fir garland.

As I place the toy nativity set under the tree and listen to my 3-year-old grand-daughter play for literally hours with the people. When she loses track of a piece for a moment, she franticly questions, “Where’s Baby Jesus?! Where’s Baby Jesus?!”

I might find him tucked into the crease of the couch, and I place him in the palm of her hand. She then carries him ever so carefully back to “Maowee & Joziff.”

I am truly content to be with loved ones and just be. Just soak up whatever time we have together with the ones we do because we know none of it is guaranteed.

I encourage you to try that too—the seeking of peace amidst the storms.

I fill up with all the supplements I can, douse myself with essential oils, down the immunity beads, and attend all the live music performances I can—

Including a classical ballet recital (I think Tychowski & Vivaldi are good for the cells).

Including the Christmas Market at church with a live petting zoo and an orchestra playing in the background.

Including our friend’s church band that features a gifted soloist leading all the classic carols.

And including a Christmas Eve service that will emphasize the truest gift of Christmas.

Yes, I know He wasn’t really born at this time of year, and some emperor Christianized the winter holiday (Constantine, I think), but the actual date doesn’t matter. The holiday is a reminder for us to ask . . .

What are you looking for?

I know what I am looking for.

Sometimes I picture myself like Scrooge at the end of the story— running around town exclaiming, “Merry Christmas to everybody! A happy New Year to all the world.”

May you also keep Christmas well, like Scrooge eventually did. 🎄

What book would you read more than once?

[Are you feeling down this season? Have a suggestion on how to overcome that?

Don’t be shy to comment.

If you find yourself feeling a connection here, click that ♥️ button. It helps others find the story & the connection too, and I very much appreciate hearing from you.]