December 22, 2015 – Being Christmas

I’m married to “Mr. Christmas.” He does an amazing job on the lights – just one of the ways he lights my life.

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I wrote a story several years ago, as a contribution to a friend’s site: tellourlifestories.com. It was about a Christmas that was unlike any of the others in my life so-far. It was 1996, I was newly divorced and had just come back from my six-months in Paris. I was in the very fortunate position to have been able to buy myself a little two-bedroom house in San Anselmo. This was before the real estate market around here went into the stratosphere, and I was able to swing it on my own. Escrow closed on December 12th and there was work to do. My brother and his crew and subs (including the love of my life-now my husband, Joe), were putting in a new kitchen and some recessed lighting – and I was doing what I could too. After work in the City (in San Francisco) and on weekends, I scraped and sanded woodwork and prepped and painted walls, soft colors. I was so, so excited to have a little place of my own, I didn’t care that everything except the new bed I’d bought myself, was still in storage. I had a few clothes in a suitcase on the dusty floor and my toiletries. That was it.

I spent Christmas Eve day in my grubbies – working.  I decided not to join in on a family celebration that evening. I wanted to work as long as I could on my new little house. I got myself a Duraflame log, poured myself a glass of chardonnay (I don’t remember where the wineglass came from!) and baked a Marie Callendar’s chicken pie in the old oven, that was still in place. Wearing a big baggy sweatshirt with the sleeves pushed up to my elbows, old paint-stained jeans and tennies, my hair full of dust and a little paint, I sat myself in front of the fireplace on the rolled up piece of carpet that was to become an area rug in the living room. I can still feel how incredibly peaceful and content I was – blissfully happy, even – all alone on Christmas Eve. I was home – in my very own place for the first time in my life, and it was perfect, just perfect.

I’m sure that my contentment was related to the fact, that I also had plans to get cleaned up and dressed up to go to my parents for Christmas the next day, but it was still an unusual way for me to happily spend a Christmas Eve. Christmases and Christmas Eves before and after have been filled with people and presents and rich, yummy food – and furniture to sit on! I’m certain I also had no latex house paint in my hair!

There is a lot that is said about the hassle and stress this time of the year, but this year I’m really feeling the magic too. When I was little and still believed in Santa Claus, I remember waking up on Christmas morning overwhelmed with anticipation and excitement. I almost shivered with the intensity of my wondering what Santa Claus had brought us. Decades past really thinking that a big-bellied man in a red suit with a white beard actually came down the chimney to bring presents – and I still feel it. Christmas morning sparkles.

Christmastime means such different things to us. For some, it’s all about the tree and decorations, presents and Santa Claus and sweets and big feasts. There are those for whom it’s a sacred celebration of the birth of Jesus – the Christ child – the Christ spirit. And for many of us who celebrate this holiday, it’s some form of both. If you type “Christmas” into a search engine (yes, I Googled “Christmas”), the first thing that comes up is a Wikipedia page that is rich with history and background. Assuming it’s all correct (which I mostly always do), what we know as Christmas now is an amazing mix of ancient traditions and relatively new influences – including earth-based winter solstice rites that celebrate light in the darkness and the eternal life of evergreens, a Roman celebration of the Everlasting Sun , the ancient Germanic people’s celebration of Yule, a 4th century Greek bishop (St. Nicholas) and Charles Dickens who, with “A Christmas Carol,” sought to create a family-centered celebration based on generosity. Much of this has been folded into the celebration of the birth of Jesus, as practiced in the Christian tradition. This year I’m feeling the connection between it all.

For me the magic of Christmas is all of this – it’s light in the darkness – (I especially love colored light), it’s the generosity of life – feasting and making offerings to each other, it’s feeling an open-hearted, joyful spirit and wishing each other goodwill. To me this is all part of celebrating the birth of the Christ spirit that lives in all of us – in all of life, really – whether we are “Christian” or not. And I love “Merry Christmas” – all of this is in these two words in a way that I don’t get with “Happy Holidays.”

For many people, this is a very difficult time of year. There are loved ones who are gone or estranged, or life is not particularly abundant.  The magic everyone else is feeling can be a reminder of their pain. But even that it’s a hard time of year for some people points to that it is a special time. There are also lots of expectations that cause that hassle and stress. I’ve been finding myself for several years now wanting to pare down what I take on. To me “taking back” Christmas, means listening to our own voices for what it means to celebrate – and deleting emails urging me to shop!

In my late 20’s, early 30’s, I used to make a dozen, dozen of a dozen different kinds of cookies. I started in November, and put away tins and tins of cookies in the freezer. The day before Christmas,I put together cookie baskets,with jars of jam I made in the summer and little mini loaves of nut breads – all wrapped in green or red cellophane with a big ribbon. Baskets went to everyone in our families and many good friends. Of course I was younger then – and I wasn’t painting – but thinking about all this makes me want to crawl back under the covers!

Baba’s cookies

For about 4 or 5 years I’ve been saying “I’m not going to bake this year.” Then this week comes around and I start thinking about the little pecan-pie like cookies that my Baba (our step grandma) used to make – and I buy a package of cream cheese for the pastry, and get out the flour and brown sugar and nuts. I’ll also make some gingerbread – everyone in our families loves it – and a just few loaves of homemade panettone – not twelve of them like I have in the past.

Even as I pare down, I’m plagued by the pull of feeling like I need to do more – especially since I used to do so much. Procrastination is actually my friend in this. It keeps me from going overboard, and hopefully only that which is strong enough to pull me into action is all I need to be doing to celebrate. It’s tricky. There’s an enormous Christmas cyclone that can sweep us up into it. This year my aim is to be Christmas more than do Christmas.

Whether it’s your tradition, your holiday to celebrate or not, I hope that this week holds all you want and not much of what you don’t. I wish you light in the darkness, I wish you generosity, I wish you good will and a bright spirit.

I wish you Merry Christmas.

Love,

Cara