There's a world outside your window, and it's filled with dread and fear where the only water flowing is the bitter sting of tears...
Used to be I would anticipate the
holidays despite the family heartaches because I could always find something to
take root and make Christmas shine just a little bit. Traditions were essential; the first song was
chosen carefully - the theme to sum up the year - and played the morning after
the turkey carving, the tree was pulled out for weeks of dream gazing, lights
were strung outside to glow into a winter's night, and overflowing baskets of
warm cookies were to be given away.
To quote the good witch, it's fun to be popular.
Now, the music becomes tired long
before the season has begun, the tree is a hassle, my husband grows more tired
each year of climbing on the roof to string up cheap lights that rarely work,
and the cookie list became too long to keep up.
Some things remain. Theme songs,
a dream has a possibility, occasional treats from the oven, an anonymous glass
of wine at crowded bar for someone who seems blue. The gathering of toys for kids in need of a
Christmas is what grounds me. Someone
asked why, when I'm so not a kid person, this was such an important cause to
me. I began to reflect on my mom, and
how she worked to put her special touch on holidays she knew were more
difficult for us than every other day of the year. Perhaps it's in her memory I want others to
have their moments as well.
I'm not a religious person, so is
it hypocritical that I am accepting of gifts and indulge in the name of
Christmas when I don't believe in the cause?
As the year comes to a close, I focus on endings, beginnings, the people
who have passed through and those who've chosen to stay. It's about taking inventory of my world.
Through my work, I communicate
with strangers on the internet every day.
I talk with them, hear their stories, and learn about lives other than
my own. They are snowflakes - they may
look the same on the surface, but each is different from the next. Reaching out is what keeps me connected in my
solitude. Writing can be a lonely
journey; many of our friends are imaginary, our worlds are painted inside of
our own minds, and our words are carefully constructed. I write about my life to prove its
authenticity. These strangers contradict
my own views and show me our universal truths as well. Without them, I would be one snowflake
falling.
One tiny invisible snowflake.
Someone said to me in a letter
today, " I suppose if Christmas
was a football, I'd be Charlie Brown feeling perennial hope snatched away at
the last moment. I seem to be near
another nadir, looking for hope. I have a small window but haven't found
the door." It was ensconced in a
long letter describing the meaning of his Christmas.
Once in awhile something stands
out demanding my attention, be it a song, a whisper, or a word and suddenly
things will make sense for just that moment.
Another letter read, " If
you are looking for someone worse off than you to brighten up your holidays
then I can show you what Christmas is all about." He is without a home, working two jobs and
trying to bring his family to live under one roof again. " So this year for Christmas I'm all
alone living in my car trying to figure out where to park and sleep each
night. I have a full-time job during the
day and part-time job 5 nights a week with working an average of 75 hours
weekly. I'm one of the lucky homeless."
There's a world outside my window.
Snowflakes adrift all around me, too many of us lost in the storm but in
the midst of my own blizzard are people showing me their faithful
longings. How could I not see the divinity in that?
Another letter came to me in the mail today, written in hand by an old
friend who's become new again. Jim wrote: "You're living out Gandhi's vision when he
challenged us to 'be the change you wish to see in the world.' Thanks for bringing the real meaning of
Christmas to so many and for allowing others to share in the
endeavor." 
With many friends around me to join hands, I am not invisible.
It is in the quiet winter evenings that I read these letters, with
colorful lights like a sky full of stars dotting the tree in the corner casting
their light on my husband's face as he sleeps with our two furry girls snuggled in tight against him. Angels may be out there getting their wings,
kids might be praying for that one toy they can't live without, and malls are
filled with a false joy reflected from the grand silver and gold ornaments
hanging above the weary shoppers. Across
the globe, people are starving, and not just for food to nourish them. They don't know a Christmas like we do.
We give from afar to brighten our holidays, thinking it will absolve our
sins in the year behind us. We drop our
needs into stockings hung above a fire where they beg for warmth. Our expectations for new beginnings are
wrapped up in glittery ribbons and searched for at the bottom of a sparkling
glass of liquid hope. Where will you find
your Christmas moment?
Look around, feel the snow fall on your skin, let the iciness melt as it
touches you. And feed the world.
In our world of
plenty, we can spread a smile of joy.
Throw your arms around the world at Christmastime...
(c) Kymberlie Ingalls -
December 3rd, 2013
Lyrics: Do They Know It's Christmas? / Band Aid
