I'm old enough to have had some difficult Christmases. Some were heartbreaking because I was foolish, like the year I was in tears because I'd begged for a guitar and it wasn't under the tree. My parents had (maybe) hidden it behind a chair. Three years later, we celebrated Christmas about two weeks after my Dad died suddenly. That was a completely different type of heartbreak. Decades after that, I was clinically depressed, considering suicide, and still, I hung over 50 yards of pine roping around my home, because the aroma lightened my heart a bit when I walked into a room. Now, even farther along in my mostly happy life, I still can feel deep sadness when I compare my little world to what I believe others celebrate.
Any holiday can be difficult when we feel separated from love. These winter holidays, focused on warmth, light, and community can be devastating. We may be estranged from our family, grieving over a deceased partner, or feel isolated and alone for any reason. If you are longing for connection, I hope you will take yourself to a place that rings a bell, lights a candle, or shares a smile in your heart. I hope that you see a star, hear a song, or sense an aroma that carries you to a happier present. As difficult as it may be to acknowledge your longing to connect, please understand that making a call, asking for company, or accepting an offer for a meal, a handshake, or a hug may bring you the blessing you've been craving.
I wish you the the Grace to request the gift you desire, and the willingness to receive it when it appears in your Life. May we find ALL GOOD gifts in this Season of Light.
Home for Christmas
It doesn’t seem to matter what season losses slipped my life,
I grieve them all again at Christmas time.
For friendships not renewed—the broken ornaments of mind--
I turn the fragile pieces and wonder what words
could seal and mend.
Each brightly colored bow, the strings of light
recall a smile gone, a soul flown, tears unshed for
lost goodbyes and thoughts unsaid.
I grieve for Santa Claus; for lost beliefs: for reindeer, elves,
whole villages whose work it was to make my wishes grow.
I strain my ears; I search the skies— for lingering chords, for fading stars of might--
Hoping, somewhere deep within my aching heart:
A child’s laugh will stir an ember not quite cold, of Season’s cheer.
Cold, cautious breath must urge and spark dry and crackled leavings of despair--
if memories can serve as tinder-- inflame, and then consume
heartache and care.
If grace is kind this Season, some new chord will resonate in me,
Rekindle hope; Illuminate my blessings;
Inventory joy instead of grief and
Fuel my soul--
Not wassail, but
Belief.
~DonnaMarieFekete, December 2015