The season for what? I suppose there are endless ways in which we could finish that statement. There exist many beliefs and traditions around Christmas; this time of year meets each of us differently.
‘Tis the season to what? To be jolly?
For some.
But not for others.
Some gather.
Others are alone.
Some celebrate. Some eat, and drink, and be merry.
Others grieve. Lament. Bear the losses that feel all the more poignant in a season dressed up in twinkling lights and tinsel.
And what we celebrate, if we celebrate, well that varies too.
Some celebrate the humble birth of a Savior, a story of miracles and of hope.
Some celebrate the solstice and the coming of light.
Some celebrate Santa Clause and surprises stuffed in stockings.
For myself, Christmas is indeed for celebration.
And this year all this time of celebrating has left me thinking, ‘tis the season for gratitude.
I’m grateful that I have a family to go home to. Grateful that my mom tells my sister and I, her Christmas starts when we get home. Grateful for the smile on her face when we get there. Grateful that my dad was at home instead of working. Grateful for time made to play in his shop, for sawdust coverings and creating. Grateful that my sister and I laugh like fools until our stomachs hurt. Grateful for time with Grandmas and aunts and uncles, cousins, and new babies. Grateful for rum and eggnog and the warmth of a cozy fire and friends. Grateful for the house I return to. Grateful that some things change and others do not.
Grateful for the drive West through the Rockies and home again. For the company I had beside me. Grateful for time on the road; for being kept safely on it in the midst of glaring ice and snow and wind. Grateful for car karaoke performances and hearty conversation. For the view outside the window; the spruce, the pines, the fir. And the snow that dresses them all. Grateful for the beautiful and untamed landscape of the wild.
I’m grateful for starry skies and cool nights and walks with my mum. For flannel pajamas and cups of tea warming my hands. For my grandma’s shortbread and for her spunk and outrageous sense of humor - and for her compassion. I’m grateful for an evening spent with my cousins’ beautiful kiddies, for crayons and toy cars and healthy doses of wonder.
I’m grateful that two days ago my dear friend invited me into the hospital room of her grandfather – that I was able to see what it looks like to meet the end of life gracefully, without fear or bitterness. Grateful that the hardest realities of life soften us.
I’m grateful that yesterday I witnessed one of the most precious people in my life walk down the aisle towards the man she loves. Grateful that good endings are given.
Grateful for the simple evening I just had with my best friend.
Grateful that we have something to hope for. Grateful that reconciliation is possible in the places where we seek it. Grateful that the end is yet to be written, that new things are being born. Always.
I'm grateful that I want for almost nothing in this world, when too many have too little. Grateful that in spite of the fact that life is often agonizing, confusing, frustrating, it is rich. It is luscious.
T'is the season to be most grateful.