I feel small.
I feel unable to help. Unable to reach out.
But I can. And so can you.
I don’t mean to preach or solicit or use this blog to induce guilt or sadness, but this is a great cause and if you feel led to help, it will make a big difference.
Happy 27th day until Christmas friends!
>This year I am in a Christmas production. I can’t remember what it’s called and have no clue what it is about. I’m in the choir so we are all focused on working on the songs and haven’t interacted yet with the actors. I’ll keep you posted. ; )
One of the songs we are working on is called “Christmas Makes Me Cry”. I don’t actually like it very much but I sure can relate to it. Every year the tears start to creep up on me earlier and earlier, and this year in particular they have already started to flow. I’m now entering a semi-permanent emotional state which will likely last into early January. It’s hard to say why I cry a lot at Christmas, but I don’t seem to be the only one. Lots of girls that I know struggle to hold in the tears. Tears of joy and maybe even tears of sadness.
For me, I think each year a little part of me grieves my childhood Christmases. I miss so badly the overwhelming anticipation; the advent calendars and the exciting visits to Santa and the hot chocolate and the homemade gifts for mommy and daddy. I miss not being able to sleep a wink on Christmas Eve because I couldn’t WAIT for Christmas morning. I miss the thought and time and effort that went into making Christmas magical and unforgettable and so, so special.
I miss being little.
Now I find myself grasping desperately to hope. I want so badly for Christmas to be magical despite my age and the fact that I don’t have children to create something special for. But I long for it. And I want Christmas to not be about the cost; how possibly to afford nice things for my loved ones. I don’t like thinking of memories of long winter vacations from school to play with new toys and get together with the neighbourhood gang for tobogganing and snow ball fights. Now that I’m older Christmas means working my butt off to pay for it all.
Wow, it sure sounds like I’m doing a lot of complaining, and I’m sorry. I don’t mean to gripe…it’s just hard to grow up, isn’t it?
But I suppose now that I am actually processing all this, it’s true that I am sad about growing up and that’s probably part of why I cry.
On the other hand, a lot of my tears are purely tears of joy. I LOVE seeing the joy on people’s faces and in their hearts at Christmas. It’s fantastic. I love working with little ones this time of year. They just exude joy and it helps me remember what it was like when I was 4. Their giggles and excitement and acceptance of wonderful things fills me up. I love thinking of ways to bless people, love shopping for the perfect gifts. I love seeing people reconcile their differences with others in the spirit of Christmas. I love going to church and feeling so close to God and Jesus and those around me. I love singing Christmas carols at the top of my lungs and dancing like a crazy person to Boney M’s “Mary’s Boy Child”.
I did a lot of crying this weekend. Those tears just snuck up on me and I felt my eyes welling up at some pretty random moments. I have made a decision to not stop them from flowing this year. Sometimes we cry because we are healing and we are not even aware of what we are healing from. It’s actually a really beautiful thing. And sometimes we cry because we are just so blessed and so happy that our feelings come out in liquid form because it has to come out somehow.
I am so thankful, my friends, to have someone so very special to spend Christmas with this year. You can’t imagine how much it means to me to be creating memories with him. To not be alone.
Christmas 2008 I was in South Africa, far from this -13 degree weather, far from my family and far from all things comfortable and familiar to me. That was a hard Christmas in a lot of ways, but in so many others it was the best Christmas of my life. I remember being in my living room looking out the window at the bright sun, seeing my little Charlie Brown Christmas tree glowing in my peripheral vision. I was listening to O Holy Night (Josh Groban’s version, naturally), and before I knew it, I was down on my knees bawling like a baby. I was stripped of everything that I knew and wanted and for the first time in my life I had to just sit at the feet of Jesus and rest there, with no distractions, no agenda, no choice, really. I have never felt so whole in my life.
That’s all for now. I know it isn’t even December; that most people don’t bother with Christmas at such an early time. But I would really like to stretch the joy of the season out a little bit longer. Because it only comes once a year and because it doesn’t hurt anybody. Because it makes me happy.
Happy almost Holidays, my friends.
>So, this is what happens when you ask your boyfriend, for lack of motivation to blog, what your next post should be about. He tells you without skipping a beat that it should be about planes, trains and automobiles.