Holidays mean family and presents and large meals. It means spending time with those we love, stuffing our stomachs beyond healthy, and helping those who are less fortunate than we are. The joy of the holidays comes in finding the “magic” of Santa Claus, oil that lasted eight days, the bountiful harvest, the birth of a Savior, or the light returning to the earth after six months of ever-increasing darkness. No matter the religion or festival, the holidays bring a feeling of hope and love that helps us go into the New Year prepared to take on whatever comes our way.
But what about when the “magic” fades and it becomes just another day, week, month or year?
I haven’t dealt with a lot of tragedy in my life. I’ve dealt with deaths or setbacks, but overall, I’ve had a good life. I’ve had happy holiday memories. I should be the most joy-filled, thankful person in the world. And yet I’m not and it doesn’t make sense. Instead of welcoming the holidays, I dread them each year. I have friends and family members that have lost parents, spouses, even children, and can’t imagine how they deal with every day, let alone a time meant for togetherness and family, where it is expected to be joyful and thankful. And yet they seem to get through with grace and love and joy in their hearts. Here I am still sulking and worrying and fretting and just wanting to get through the holidays so I don’t have to pretend to be cheerful anymore.
I feel burdened by my family and responsibilities. I feel guilty that I have my parents, husband, and kids to celebrate with, and I just want to avoid all of them. I feel pressured to do all of the normal traditions like decorating the tree, baking cookies, visiting Santa or sending cards, but also include traditions from other celebrations so all family is included. I feel worried that if I spend money on presents, we won’t have enough for food or gas or extra-curricular activities. I feel guilty that I even care about extra-curricular activities when some people are losing their jobs or homes.
I worry that my kids will grow up seeing the holidays as a time of disappointment instead of the magical time it should be. And I fear that one day I will wake up and realize that all of this time I spent worrying and fretting and wallowing could have been spent laughing, loving, helping others, and making memories because that will be all that I or those around me will have will be the memories. And I just pray that I can muster up enough hope and joy and magic that the memories are of good times. And I also pray that I can stop worrying long enough to enjoy those times before they become memories.
I would love to hear some of your favorite memories about holidays with your loved ones, whether still alive or moved on. What traditions do you remember the most? What is important to you and your family during this time each year? What makes this time magical with your loved ones?
