Not unalloyed joy

One of the things that Jaquandor talked about on his blog, is that Christmas brings up difficult emotions as well as joyful ones.I admit, a lot of the time I guess I try to slap a big holly sticker over the sadder parts, or maybe mark them "Do not open until December 26," but they are still there.


Some of those emotions may be feelings of regret or "what if," like the ones he brought up, but I also notice others:

1. Sadness over things that have been lost. Most every year, there is someone that I am remembering in memory only. I went to the AAUW Christmas party last night and talk turned to members who were gone. (We lost one of our long-time members last fall; another long-time member is in very bad health (Though she might still beat the cancer she's being treated for). Talk turned to Dorothy, who's been gone long enough some of the more recent members don't remember her. And Eleanor, the member who passed away last year. Most of the memories were happy - we laughed over how Dorothy always used to "weigh" the gifts in the gift exchange (she wanted something light; she said she didn't want anything she had to dust).

I also think of the year I lost a cousin. And the year my aunt died. And even looking at the cats' stockings in the box after they had died, and feeling sad all over again.

As I said, while most of the memories we share of departed loved ones at Christmas are happy ones, still, it's sad that they aren't still here to make new memories with us.

Also, I find I still feel a little sadness over the loss of the innocence and carefree quality of childhood, where I was able to enter more fully (I think) into the spirit of the celebration. And to be an age where even a fairly simple toy as a gift is the BEST THING EVER and you're super excited and happy about it. And that if it snows for Christmas, that is also the BEST THING EVER. (Though also, perhaps the disappointments of childhood cut deeper than they do in adulthood. I remember the disappointment of one year when it DIDN'T snow for Christmas - I grew up in the "snowbelt" of Ohio, so white Christmases were the norm, and a green (or rather, brown) one wasn't what I was expecting and wasn't what I wanted).

Oh, I'd still like to have a white Christmas, though maybe just have the snow start after everyone gets home from church Christmas Eve and snow just enough overnight to have a nice covering on the ground (an inch or two) by morning.

(I also admit I miss believing in a literal Santa Claus. I can just barely remember that, all of the funny little family traditions, like if you heard a helicopter overhead during December, that meant it was Santa checking up to be sure children were being good. I know there's controversy in some parenting circles over whether you "do" Santa Claus or not (some people consider it tantamount to lying to the child), but I admit, I really enjoyed the time I believed, and I didn't feel cheated or lied to or anything like that when I grew out of believing. Maybe a little sad, like learning that fairies weren't real, but not cheated.)

2. I just think there is a sort of sadness that can underlie the joy. Especially if you're a practicing Christian who celebrates the holy-day meaning of Christmas: it's hard, as many have pointed out, to see the manger without also seeing the shadow of the cross.

And there are such contrasts in human behavior this time of year. They seem more pronounced. You hear of incredible acts of generosity and kindness (And even the more common things that people wait for every year, like the tradition in some cities of people secretly slipping gold coins into bell-ringers' kettles). But you also see such unnecessarily selfish acts - people stealing money being collected to help the less-fortunate, for example. And some people do become selfish, and sometimes it's hard to enjoy picking out gifts for some people because you know nothing you ever give them will be appreciated or seen as good enough (I am lucky in that I do not have family members like that). Or the way people act in the big stores. I've pretty much avoided anything but grocery shopping since Thanksgiving just because I don't want to go to the big-box stores and see people being pushy and ugly to each other. (I did do a little shopping in the local small stores, but people tend to be on their better behavior in those).

3. Something I find for myself, I feel as if I have never enjoyed the time enough. There are things I'd like to have done that I didn't manage to do, or at some points I felt rushed and couldn't enjoy stuff enough. Or something.

Just today I got most of my cards off. I cut way back this year and I feel a little bad about that but I just didn't have the time. And postage is going up. I sent cards to a couple of relatives, a few friends, and to my Sunday school class. I also sent one to my friend here in town. (She is still hanging in there, despite the doctor's dire "You will be dead in 10 days" back in October. I did write "Thinking of you" and other things on the card rather than my merry Christmas wishes; I generally do that for people who have faced a big recent loss or who are going through tough times, because I suspect it's hard, when you're grieving, to read too many "Merry" or "Happy" wishes.)

Or, alternately, I feel like I haven't been "good" enough. There's always someone I get annoyed with, or maybe even argue with. Or I've let my annoyance at some little thing overwhelm my joy. Or something comes off worse than I had hoped, like a gift isn't as successful as I thought it would be.

And I know, "Life is messy and people are strange." And it's probably best to let go of the Christmas-card vision of a perfect holiday, where everyone is happy and things are simple and joyful. I think of the line from the Auden poem, where the poet speaks of us petitioning Christ to be allowed to continue being "His disobedient servants," and while the first time I read that line it made me crinkle up my forehead a bit in frustration, the older I get, the more I see the truth of it. We all are. Even the best of us cannot come up to the standard that's set. But on some level that's okay. I don't mean we should stop TRYING, or that we should justify doing awful things just because we know we'll be forgiven - but that it's okay to stop berating ourselves for not being as good as we feel that we should be, for not making things as perfect as they could be. (Now I just need to remind myself of that on a regular basis).