Viewing the holidays from a different lens
Like everything in life, the holiday season is about perception. On one hand, you can view it as a commercialized frenzy or you can see it as a time to slow down and reflect, or maybe a little of both. I tend to fall in the combined category, but it hasn’t always been that way.
When my boys were little, my mom was alive and my marriage intact, I embraced the hullabaloo of the holidays with gusto. Bring on every parade and family-friendly festive event, write the Christmas cards, take the family photo at the tree farm, sit on Santa’s lap, ooh and aah over the gingerbread houses at Grove Park, buy Christmas pajamas, search for the elf on the shelf each morning, bake homemade cookies, make the crafts, visit Biltmore, and so on and so forth.
These are all things we faithfully did year in and year out, and to be honest, I absolutely loved it. Not only did I love it, I photographed and filmed our adventures and wrote stories on my mom blog to share with the world. When one is still naive, it’s easy to get swooped up in a warm and fuzzy existence. As I reflect upon those years now, I feel like I wasn’t being sensitive to people who didn’t have it so great during the “most wonderful time of the year.”
Then my own life unfolded in a direction that wasn’t so picture-perfect and trying to keep up the merry facade became not only exhausting but impossible. Grief, whether it’s from the death of a loved one, the end of a marriage or some other loss, creates a quick-sand effect, like you’re moving in a very slow manner and everything takes monumental effort. My old holiday agenda suddenly felt overwhelming and rather lonely with such pivotal cast members no longer part of my story.
After over seven years in my new normal and what feels like lifetimes of wisdom gained, I have developed a new outlook on the holidays and one that I actually prefer to my old one because not only is it more realistic, it’s easygoing and buttressed with compassion for others and myself.
One of my favorite simple holiday pleasures is enjoying a cup of coffee in the early morning with only the fire and Christmas lights illuminating the living room. This time of day always feels magical to me, but the fire and lights make it extra comforting. Sometimes I work or read or journal, or maybe another family member wakes up and we use it as a time for conversation, but other days, it’s just a time to be myself and process whatever is going on in my world.
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The Advent wreath has also become an integral part of my holiday experience. Each year, we use the discarded tree trimmings to make a homemade Advent wreath and each Sunday we light the respective candles and say a prayer over the coming week. It’s a time-honored ritual that I look forward to year after year.
Recently I found the bin with my mom’s Christmas sweaters. Tacky Christmas sweaters weren’t always a part of pop culture. When I was growing up, these overly festive sweaters were simply the attire for every teacher and mom I knew, and not only during Christmas but also Halloween, St. Patrick’s Day, Easter, Thanksgiving, etc. My mom, who was also a school librarian, owned attire for every holiday on the calendar. In fact, one time my mom got rather upset when my sister and I wore some of her sweaters to an “ugly Christmas sweater” event because she saw her sweaters as quite lovely. Finding this bin was a highlight of my week and as I cleaned and folded each sweater, I was flooded with sweet memories.
Finishing a holiday puzzle is a new tradition we’ve started as a blended family. It stays on the table throughout the season and whenever someone has time, they place a few pieces. It’s a methodical, rewarding experience that serves as the perfect antidote to the rat race of modern society.
I still enjoy gifting Christmas pajamas to the family, writing Christmas cards, visiting Biltmore, baking cookies or any of the aforementioned holiday activities, but now they feel like a treat or a privilege as opposed to something I’m trying to check off a list.
Further, my heart is oh so sensitive to others’ grief now that I’ve experienced my own. The holidays can be grueling for many with that empty seat at a table, a diagnosis, or for a number of other reasons. I’m learning to not compare my life to others but to be grateful for every beautiful moment I have with those I love.
As we navigate these final weeks before Christmas, be gentle with yourself. If you don't get all the things accomplished, it’s okay. The holiday season isn't meant to be a flurry of activity. It’s actually meant to be a time of waiting and anticipation. And if you’re really struggling to find joy this time of year, just know that I see you and others see you and in those dark moments, you must look for glimmers like sipping coffee beside the Christmas tree or a bin of special sweaters or placing the last piece of a puzzle. It’s often in the smallest of moments that we feel the true spirit of the season.
(Susanna Shetley is a writer, editor and digital media specialist who lives in Waynesville. This email address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it..)
