Home for the holidays

Recently I’ve made an observation. When I was little, I was extremely self-absorbed (some may say some things never change!) Everything revolved around me. Just ask my siblings; they’ll gladly confirm my story and may even elaborate or question when I stopped being little. I was especially self-absorbed during the holidays, which I felt existed solely for the sake of me. At least the gift-receiving part of the holidays anyway, the only part I truly cared about. Packages under the Christmas tree were quickly ripped open when it was time; providing me with some new form of entertainment or adornment and a fleeting sense of joy.

In looking back over the many Christmas memories I am blessed to have had, I honestly can’t remember many of the gifts I was given. As much anticipation surely should have imprinted on my memory. There was one childhood Christmas, however, that I do vividly remember and credit with a new found understanding of what the holidays are all about. We were having a really rough year. My parents were barely making ends meet and it didn’t look very promising for Christmas. All I could think about was the kids at school bragging about the mounds of presents that graced their tree and how they were getting EVERY gift on their list. I was in the 4thgrade and knew enough to know the difference between those that have, and those that have not. We were have not’s. The shame and fear of what I was going to tell my classmates when I returned from the holiday vacation consumed my thoughts in the days leading up to Christmas Eve. Up until that time, there had been no presents under the tree, in fact, no tree at all to put presents under, and nothing to look forward to opening.

Miraculously, my parents somehow managed to find a tree. Together we proceeded to decorate the spindly little orphan until it sparkled. While we decorated, my parents led us in Christmas carols, their melodious harmony wrapping around us like a warm blanket. When we were done, much to our surprise, my mother brought out a bag of colorfully wrapped presents. Incredulous at our great fortune, and keenly aware of the small number of packages, we very slowly and gingerly unwrapped our presents. Even my two-year old baby brother seemed to understand that we needed to make these Christmas memories last longer. Each of us opened our packages to reveal a can of Play Dough, a coloring book, and a new set of 8 crayons. At first I was confused. I already had lots of coloring books and crayons, even though most of the crayons were nubby, battle-worn versions of their old selves. I even had remnants of Play Dough that was in almost usable condition, the edges dried and crackled but the center soft and pliable. Then I realized just how tough this year must really be for our family, and never did so little mean so much to me.

Many years have passed since that Christmas memory and I’ve had lots of time to ponder the reason that particular Christmas stands out above so many other memories. I like to think that it’s because it was the first time my focus was not purely on myself but on my family. The pain I saw etched in my mothers face and the sad tears that formed at the corner of my father’s eyes. Their complete sadness at not being able to provide for us the things they wanted to.

Now that I’m older and have the benefit of time on my side, I recognize that the real blessing of the holidays is the ability to be grateful for whatever time you get to spend with people that you love. Each year, I have hope that we’ll all be together, but it’s simply not possible. Some of the people I love are gone and can’t be here with us, so I try to incorporate their favorite recipes into our meals, or share a story about spending time with them. Our parents are growing older and finding it more difficult to travel. Our children are busy with their own busy lives and one is living in another hemisphere. And I am learning to let go of expectations and find the joy in simple times. I now realize that when I was a child, the lack of joy came from the inability to recognize the gift itself. The care in which the giver chose the gift; the love shown in their careful presentation; and sometimes the sacrifices they made in order to provide a gift at all.

Thank you, Mom & Dad, for showing me the true meaning of the holidays.

Chalkboard Napkin Rings

his month’s Upcycld project is Chalkboard Napkin Rings I’ll be using for my holiday meals. I found these great little wooden napkin rings at my local Goodwill and upcycled them using the following steps:

Step 1. Lay the napkin rings on a sheet of newspaper.

Step 2. Coat them with chalkboard paint on all sides that you can see.

Step 3. Let dry.

Step 4. Turn the napkin rings over.

Step 5. Paint the unpainted part of the napkin rings.

Step 6. Let dry.

Step 7. Write your guests names on the napkin rings in chalk.

May your holidays be filled with love, peace, and joy.

Happy Upcycling!