To this day, I have no idea which of the two of us - John or I - was most surprised by my 1990 Christmas Eve crying jag. It was our second Christmas, our first at Squirrel Haven. Something happened & I burst into tears. To this day, I can see John's startled self, hear his simple words - "This is not fun."
What did he mean, "This is not fun"?? Crying on Christmas Eve had been part & parcel of my adult holiday dynamic for years & years. Never noticed that Mom didn't go off the deep end, that Mim didn't, that Peter definitely didn't. But MY getting momentarily unraveled seemed my holiday norm. John's comment, spoken in his marvelously neutral voice, unweighted by added agendas, took me unawares.
Not cry on Christmas? Seriously? Was it possible?
The two of us talked about it. Didn't take a genius to realize that I'd spent a lifetime adding on one "must-do" holiday tradition on top of another, without ever dropping one. If felt to me like it was MY responsibility to ensure that each of them got checked off my Christmas to-do list if the holidays were going to be acceptable to the rest. Yet it all was anything but jolly for my John.
For the first time, I set about paring down my expectations of what to do. Which traditions really mattered, which didn't? I got to the point of realizing that if others didn't care enough about a particular activity or holiday jaunt to help make it so, then it was actually okay for it not to make the cut. Radical thought! And liberating.
It didn't take many years under the new perspective to realize that Christmas has nothing to do with doing stuff & everything about celebrating relationship, especially on the spiritual level. Things got a mega boost when John introduced me to a remarkable version of the Christmas story from the 1950s, sponsored by Bell Telephone & featuring marionettes that wondrously caught the reverence of the characters. Watching it became our first common Christmas tradition; since I recorded it, we could watch it whenever it was convenient!
Today, our "must-do" traditions are significantly less than they were 22 years ago. We love going to the tableaux together (John still marvels that he stroked a camel on the cathedral lawn - there won't be any "shepherds' campfire" tonight, with all the snow & ice!), love shopping at Peddler's Village, but mostly we love the simple moments of being together & having fun.
John personalized one of my family's most iconic Christmas traditions. Starting with that Christmas that was our first as Squirrel Haven, our second with Mom living with us, I asked John to read the story of the Christ Child, just as Dad had done. For years, he read the blessed words. Then, one Christmas, he read for a bit, then handed the book to ME to continue. Picking up on his inspired idea, I read, then handed to book onto Mom. To this day, we read the story the same way, sharing the reading & the listening.
The house looks lovely, but not at all what it would have been when Mom was alive. Stocking will be hung, but not crammed with exquisite, "Where did you find this?!" treasures. The only tree will be a tiny one, less than 2-ft high, well out of reach of kitties' inquisitive paws. A beautiful room that welcomes snugs on the couch & calm, restful evenings of just being with each other.
One tradition remains - the Lockhart nativity is still the first decoration to be put up. So many memories, so much family joy.
Paring away the "must do" attitude leaves us free to fully enjoy. Letting things be fully as they are rather than fussing over reconstructing some image of what was - how liberating!
Am dedicating the next four weeks to paring down so many things in my life. How wonderful that my efforts begin with celebrating Christmas in the pared down style developed over the past 22+ years. What better success on which to build!!
