Yesterday I experienced some of the lesser qualities that often come up during the holidays. These annoying little frustrations: cancelled orders, delayed orders, thinly-veiled passive aggressive guilt trips, twinkly lights half on/half off, things breaking out of nowhere when I am in a rush to go, long waits to get chores completed, and an email from the high school principal telling us parents to please not worry about a viral, national social media post, threatening bombs and guns at numerous, anonymous American high schools, across the nation. When these types of happenings occur as a one-off, you usually let them slide off your back as best you can, but in the middle of the holidays, when there is this underlying expectation to be so jolly and merry and bright, this string of annoyances made me start to behave like I belong on The Naughty List, in a big way.
While there are so many things that I love about the holidays, yesterday made me focus on what I like the least about the holidays, and that is the distraction of it all. It’s not like our everyday chores and obligations and routines go away, while we are busily and yet also thoughtfully, trying to do all of “the extras” that come with the show. Sometimes I even feel resentful. I just want my “normal” life back. During the holidays, it’s often easy to become irritable, and then flog yourself for being an irritable brat, during what is supposed to be “the most wonderful time of the year.”
That being said, yesterday I also noticed some of those most special gifts that tend to come around the holidays, the gifts that aren’t wrapped in a bow, and put under the tree. My two youngest children, celebrated being done with their finals, by going to see the Spiderman movie together last night. They both have been Marvel fans since they were little, and they made giddy plans, careful to not watch any spoilers, to go see a movie that they both ended up thinking was one of the best Spiderman movies they had ever seen. When they came home and excitedly regaled my husband and I, with the highlights of the show, my mind kept flashing back to two little children, brother and sister duo, watching Marvel cartoons and playing with action figures for hours. I think, at this moment, I might have started glowing like the Christmas tree.
One of our youngest son’s best friends from high school (and who also attends the same university), picked up our son for some golf yesterday, and he also told our son to keep himself free Monday night, because a few of my son’s buddies are wanting to take him out to a fancy steak house, to belatedly celebrate our son’s 21st birthday. This invitation came on the heels of the news that my son’s fraternity brothers did a fundraiser late this fall, and were proudly able to send a check for over $1000 to the Epilepsy Foundation, in my son’s honor. My son has had to remain home with us, for the majority of this semester, because his epileptic seizures have been uncontrolled, and as always, his wonderful friends have been so supportive and loving and kind. And witnessing all of this, reminded me of just how loving and supportive and kind all of our friends and our family have been to us, during this difficult chapter in my son’s epilepsy experience. And this is when I know that I started glowing, even brighter than our Christmas tree. And I didn’t feel distracted at all, at that moment. At that moment, watching my happy, contented children and reflecting on the love that we have been given from so many people, and the love that we have for so many people, despite my earlier frustrations, in this sometimes crazy, annoying, distracting, frenetic time of the year, all that I felt at that very moment, was peace. All that I felt was love. All that I felt was gratefulness. And these priceless, eternal presents, are the presents that are always here for the taking, when I take the time to notice them, and to soak them in. And that’s when I get that glow, that glow that starts from deep within my heart. I get that glow which you could never buy in a bottle. And I try to hold on to that glow, for as long as I can.
Are you passing on love or are you passing on pain? Heal your pain and pass on love.