‘Tis the holiday season and no one could miss the sales spin on the merriest holiday of the year. Right?
But what about the heart and soul spin of this wintry wonderland’s holiday fest? Where do authentic emotions and heartfelt thanks-giving and joy-full memories of holidays from yesteryear fit in to all of this merriment?
In my work, I see family after family who are all stressed and strained out with financial pressure to create a mythical picture perfect awesome memory packed event.
And No they do not want a hug. In fact, get the heck away from them and give them some space to re-charge their batteries so they can return to the good fight in the anxiety riddled malls of America. All in the hopes that their loved ones will have this mythical picture perfect awesome memory packed event we call the holidays. But most importantly of all, so that their families will love them.
Folks, I know of what I speak. I did all of the above for all of the years that my daughter lived under my roof. No matter what rental we lived in, that rental became Holiday Central beginning on Thanksgiving weekend when I began baking tray after tray of cookies and fruitcakes [please forgive me, for I have distributed fruitcakes as gifts] and not ending until after the first of January.
There were the holidays with trees so tall and full that they had to be winched up over the deck into the second floor living room, there were years where I sat up all night after the open house on Christmas Eve, putting together Santa’s gifts. Colorful lights were strung inside and out, with lit up garage sale Santa’s and Frosty’s.
My daughter remembers barely one of these Decembers ~ a memory snippet here and there.
The one we both remember was one of the holidays when I was very financially poor and Care Bears were the rage. Oh how my daughter yearned for one of those little stuffed up darlings. And oh how I could not afford one. I ended up purchasing a less expensive light blue stuffed up bear the size of the prized Care Bear, cutting out a dark blue heart from an old shirt, embroidering the word L O V E and stitched it onto the bear’s chest. Quite the feat for someone who didn’t and still doesn’t sew worth a dang.
My daughter named this bear Blue-y and she did, indeed, love him.
I remind myself of this memory and these facts whenever the urge to buy my way into the heart’s of loved ones or to re-board the train traveling to the mythical picture perfect awesome memory packed holiday, strikes.
I remind myself that there is no need. That there is no such place other than in the myth.
I remind myself that I am already loved by those whom my heart holds dear.
I remind each of you that the same is true in each of our lives ~ we are loved ~ each and every day of the year.