Fa la la la la… you know the rest.

Thanks to that darn STAR 102, Christmas started early again this year.  It happens such that children think Christmas music is one of the wonders of the world, so once that radio station goes rogue at the beginning of November, there’s no turning back; the slippery slope into the bowels of Christmas cheer begins.  My Pollyanna happy thought comes, however, from finding out that Christmas music is the perfect buffer to delivering bad news. As it turns out, you can tell a child just about anything without consequence while they are singing along to Christmas music,

“Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la la la la la…”
“Hey sweetie, unfortunately the dog ate your favorite toy”…
“Ok mom… ‘Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la la la la la la…“
“And honey, because he ate your toy, Rover got sick and died”…
“That’s too bad mom… Don we now our gay apparel, fa la la la la la la la laaaaa….“
No tears or nothin’!  It’s a Christmas miracle!

But seriously, our dog didn’t die (this year so far), so I’m off and wondering again which ghost of Christmas past stole my Christmas cheer.

It happens every year around this time, the stress of finals looming, the mess of rearranging the whole house to accommodate my husband’s Christmas spirit, the budget issues surrounding an extra paycheck spent on gifts for my expansive and generous family.  I’m always a bit gloomy when I return home after leaving the warm Thanksgiving table and the cold dry snow up north.  Then out comes the two green bins of Santa’s vomit.  Predictably the mantel is decorated first, then the tree, then the assorted shiny silver, red and green leftovers scattered to all corners of the house.  The Christmas music in the background, some old and cherished, some with a teen dance beet and some oddly irrelevant and out of place word changes.  The egg nog.  A fire.  Pa in his kerchief and I in my computer chair wishing I could get up the Christmas spirit to help decorate.

This year it’s the Advent wreath that reminds me to dread the holiday that is coming.  Last year we didn’t light our advent candles.  I didn’t do much of anything Christmassy around here actually, cause last year I was reaching the heights of an illness around that time that landed me in the ER the day after Christmas… crash cart, epinephrine hangover, scared to go to sleep that night for fear I wouldn’t wake up.  Last year it was the extra stocking that reminded me: the matching set to my sons’, purchased in anticipation of our expected new addition, a baby that never made it to Christmas the year before, another holiday visit to the ER.  Going back further: job loss, marriage struggles, sickness, songs that remind me of a family home from years ago, burned to the ground and covered with new land on which others now build their lives.  All wrapped up with a Christmas bow, a yearly unpredictable disaster waiting to happen.  ‘Tis the season.

So… it is indeed a Christmas miracle that I await.

I realize that there are many people in my shoes, hoping only for peace this Christmas, and also many for whom Christmas has only ever delivered joy, and those somewhere in between.  For some this will be their first Christmas without a loved one, for others their first with a new love, a spouse, a visiting friend, a baby’s first holiday.  For many it will be just another splendid 25 days of lights, food, and laughter.  For most of us it will be a barrage of holiday exchanges, bogus sales, and unruly grocery store traffic.  For all of us students if will be a sigh of relief after two weeks of studying and stressing over semester grades.

I also realize that I once again have no idea what this Christmas will bring to me.  So here’s my plan: tomorrow I sulk.  I bury my head in the homework that I put off in order to enjoy my Thanksgiving break, and I feel sorry for myself, relating all of my woes irrationally to the coming of Christmas.  Then the next day I shop.  Take my eager little boy full of ridiculous gift ideas to Target and buy myself some affordable Christmas cheer.  The day after that I will light my advent candle a few days late, drag out some Christmas reading, and compliment my husband on our exquisitely decorated home.  Then it’s finals with smiles, Union Station with all the Christmas trains, my sisters’ fabulous cooking, movies in the theater, candles on Christmas Eve, and Christmas morning to the soundtrack of STAR 102.

All the while my Christmas wish will be that I will find that place where children go when the Christmas carols begin, having fallen prey to the disaster-erasing cheer, the consequence of a Christmas miracle.

 

 

Advertisement