December 16, 2020
Christmas is less than two
weeks away, but it’s never felt farther off. The season for me isn’t about things.
I’m passed the age where I look forward to getting gifts. From the time when I
was a child, and up until I married and hell, even for several years after
that, the only time I could look forward to getting something new for myself was
at Christmas.
After the loss of my father, I
grew up with a single mom who worked as a nurse at a time when nurses didn’t
make much money. Any “new” clothes I received usually were courtesy of a
great-aunt who did housekeeping for a wealthy family who, my luck, had a
daughter about my age and size.
I can recall one time receiving
a bag of clothes that contained a beautiful red and black cable knit pull-over
sweater and a pair of black slacks with stirrups! I had always wanted slacks
with stirrups. I felt like a princess when I put them on!
Likely, because of all those
early experiences, I learned to focus on the season rather than the trappings
and have for some time. I much prefer to give Christmas gifts than to get them.
Not that getting isn’t very nice, and not that I’m not grateful for every gift.
It is, and I am. But I no longer dwell on that. When asked by family what I
would like for Christmas, I am hard pressed to think of anything.
What Christmas means to me,
and what makes it a wonderful occasion to anticipate, is spending time with my
family. When I have spent time with each of my children and their children, and
lately their children during the season, then I feel content and blessed
beyond measure. When I’ve made face-to-face contact with my entire family, that
to me is a great Christmas.
The virus infection numbers
are still on the rise here. Our area is on orange alert – one down from red,
which is one down from lockdown. Where my son lives, their area is on red alert.
The latest numbers for here are from yesterday, when we learned that we’d topped
100 cases—we’ve got 105. Last week was the worst week for new cases here, ever.
So David and I have made the very painful decision that we won’t be seeing our
family this Christmas.
This is the right decision,
because by this time next year, we should have had our vaccinations, and getting
together should be easier for us all. I don’t want to get this virus, and I
sure as hell don’t want to pass it on to anyone, either. Our son has type 1
diabetes, a disease he contracted after a bad case of pneumonia that damaged
his pancreas, when he was in his early thirties. He’s vulnerable—as are both
his father (COPD) and I (heart disease and diabetes).
It is the right decision but it
was not an easy decision to make. There’s a part of human nature that sees the
shining promise of Christmas, and the dark threat of Covid, and makes us want
to run and cling to the shining, to the light. That’s a false choice.
Christmas is an annual
celebration, and I can remember a couple during my lifetime when other things
happened around the same time of year that were hard and hurtful. Christmas
will return and will be available to celebrate every December 25th
for the rest of my life.
The decision that we’ve made
really is this: we choose to miss this one year’s Christmas gatherings, and
thereby live to celebrate more joyfully for years to come, beginning next
Christmas.
This virus is real, and we are
taking all precautions, David and I. In choosing to stay home, we are
protecting ourselves and our loved ones; we are also doing our part to prevent
our local hospitals from being overrun with patients who have Covid-19.
In a lot of places, especially
in the United States, the hospitals are so full of Covid patients that they’re
nearing the breaking point. This is a tragedy not only for those who may be
turned away from receiving care when they need it most; it’s a horrid situation
for those health care providers to be in; dedicated professionals whose only
wish is to help those who need them. For them to have to contemplate turning
away patients, or deciding who lives and who dies? Do we have any idea of the
gravity of the decisions we’re forcing on our medical personnel? The moral and
emotional burden we’re asking them to bear?
David is going to put up our little
tree, so we can have a feeling of Christmas. And our Christmas wish for
ourselves and for everyone one is really just one wish.
That we all find some joy in
the moment of not only Christmas, but in every day, and that we hold onto the
hope of a host of many much brighter and happier tomorrows.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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