December 21, 2022
Well, here we are again, and so
soon, too! Christmas is only 3 sleeps away, as the kids used to say. Just about
everyone I speak to in recent days has had one question in common that they ask
me, during the course of our conversations: “are you ready for Christmas?” I’m not
certain if they are asking that out of genuine curiosity, or if they are hoping
that I will say no, and they will then sigh, and think, “oh good, another one
just like me.”
My answer to the question, am
I ready, is always no. I’m never ready for Christmas. I do, every year, comment
on this fact. And every year, it’s true. Every year, the inevitability and
approach of Christmas, the nearness of it when I look up mid-December and
realize it’s almost here, seems to be a shock.
You see, Christmas to me is a
time to stop the busyness of life, a time to sit, be calm, and reflect. To sink
deep into contemplation. To once more draw near to the wonder and the magic and
the majesty of human hope and aspirations.
When I say those words to
myself, a lovely picture forms in my imagination. I’m in a room with a large
front window; sitting in a comfy chair, with a fresh cup of coffee beside me, a
blanket on my lap, and a fire burning close by. It’s night, I have the indoor lights
off, and outside I can see thanks to the soft lighting from somewhere that the
snow is falling—gently, softly, with the occasional puff of a breeze that sends
the snowflakes dancing. There may be soft music playing, but aside from the
crackle of the fire, it’s the only sound.
So, am I longing for
Christmas? Yes, I am so there. But am I ready for it? No…but I have hope.
When I was a child, my
pleasure when it came to Christmas was, of course, from anticipating all the
wonderful things I might get from “Santa”. I can tell you that there were two
days a year that I got gifts – my birthday, and Christmas. That was normal, for
most folks I believe in those days. I would be given shoes, or clothing as the
need arose throughout the year. And I did get a whole 25 cents a week
allowance. That was a lot! Why, every couple of weeks or so, my daddy would
take me to Kresge’s, in Dundas, and I could, from my allowance, buy myself a
toy from amongst the riches on display there.
My two favorites were a “flying
saucer”, and solo ping-pong. The first consisted of a “launch pad” a ring, a
string, and a plastic circle, with spokes. The string wrapped around the launch
pad; the circle sat atop it; and when you held the toy in one hand and pulled
the string fast in the other, the circle twirled hard, then would be launched
to go…. wherever. The second toy was a wooden paddle, which had an elastic band
type piece securely affixed to it. At the end of the band was a small rubber
ball. You could play ping-pong all by yourself!
With that monthly influx of
new toys, I never felt deprived—or bored!
These days, as a seasoned
adult, my pleasure in Christmas comes from giving. We keep a few dollars on
hand, and every kettle we pass in this season, gets some. We have, in the past,
taken great pleasure in shopping for toys, lots of toys, and then giving them
to the first responders on duty each Christmas season outside the grocery
stores. And of course, we give gifts to our children, grandchildren, and
great-grandchildren. And to special friends.
I also used to love to make
cookies with my own children, and then with my granddaughter. This year, being
so much older and sadly a little less patient, I made the cookies on my own and
then presented two of my great-grandchildren with them, along with some icing
and all manner of sprinkles for them to decorate at will. My daughter and
second daughter supervised, and I enjoyed watching them.
I also sent them home with
some cookie dough ready to roll out, so they could make cookies at home with
their mother.
There is one more thing that I
look forward to, every Christmas, and it’s my absolute favorite: and that is
the time I get to spend with my loved ones. Yes, there is a shadow of sadness
present, as this is the time of year when I most keenly miss those no loner
with us: my parents and siblings, my middle son, and his first-born daughter.
But life, at it’s best, is neither all good nor all bad. Life at its best is bitter-sweet.
My husband and I wish you
boundless joy this Christmas—with lots of hugs and mugs with your nearest and
dearest.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
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