So, we resigned ourselves to the fact that Santa is a metaphor for goodness, generosity, and all that merry stuff, and we got on with the business of finding our own set of meanings for Christmas (or we bought into the commercial, prepackaged junk concept of Christmas, sold to us by the merchant class). Whatever the case, you, whoever you are, probably have developed your own set of routines and traditions which you maintain to this day.
BUT: every year as it turns Dec. 1, do you transform into Santa Claus - do you really, seriously try to take on the role of pleasing everyone, all the time? Do you shoot for a picture-perfect, picturebook Christmas?
You must get awfully tired, because Santa Claus is a busy guy. Consider this:
Cynical skeptics note that the belief in the Christmas gift giver requires acceptance of the hypothesis that in a single evening the infrequent flyer visits all the homes in America and the homes of Americans everywhere else on Earth. Even if the speedy one spent a single second at each home and took no time to travel between homes, it would take him several years to complete his rounds. Obviously, a miracle happens every Christmas! (source)
Trying to accomplish a miracle this Christmas, like that jolly, rotund fellow in red? Does it feel like you're trying to accomplish a miracle in the time allotted to you? Running around from place to place, trying to make a dozen different engagements, bake Christmas cookies, decorate the tree, what am I gonna get Aunt Bessie, oh, God, I hope she doesn't bring the jello mold with the kibbles and bits this year, can we afford this, the kids will be disappointed, cousin Bob just called, he's bringing three friends to X'mas dinner, get an extra leaf for the dining room table, CLYDE! that Super Malibu Barbie kids Winnebago with Intel inside costs a fortune, Dear Lord, deliver me from the office party, somebody bloody well better help me with the dishes this year, no jAnEt, YoU mAy NoT gO SkIiNg iN BoUlDeR with your 18-year-old boyfriend, whaddya mean you're out of s..s...smoked t...t..turkeys, the Visa is maxed out, I wish I had better china, blah, blah, blah...
You're not Santa, you're not a miracle worker, and it's not your job to slave and go into crippling debt at Christmas time, so that others may enjoy the holidays.
Somewhere along the line, a lot of people pick up the idea that unselfish giving means that we must suffer, or in some sense shortchange ourselves, in order for it to be truly worthy. This is absolute, blithering nonsense. Lose that notion, loosen up, and enjoy the holidays for a change.
You are not Santa. Or Mrs. Claus, either.
I pick twelve names from my Christmas card list and do them first. These are the ones that are less fun than the others to send. I get them done first. The remaining ones are a joy. These twelve include a couple of "duty" cards, and so forth. The result is these are no longer staring me in the face, and I can enjoy writing and sending the rest of them. Right around Thanksgiving I bring the Christmas boxes down from the attic. I make a "Christmas Map" of roughly where everything went from the year before. This way everything has an initial place to go, and if I want to change things around later, I can. It greatly speeds getting most of the decorations into proper place quickly and easily. I have reduced the amount of decorations from eighteen boxes down to just four. These four include the boxed Christmas cards, so the paring down has been aggressive and I am far less put upon each year. I am 65, so you have to get sensible about how much you tackle each year, plus I shovel by hand. I need my energy. I hope you all have a great Christmas this year, as always. Merry Christmas to you from Chris in Maine.
ReplyDeleteThanks for the comment, and a Merry Christmas to you in the great state of Maine, from the Great Pacific Northwest.
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