New baby brings some new Christmas traditions
Originally published Dec. 23, 2016, in the Times Herald-Record of Middletown, N.Y.
Some of us need the Christmas tree decorated with shiny balls and strands of lights, and some of us need that tree to be finished moments after the last turkey bites.
Some of us need to hear the carols, maybe even as the winter breaks, and some of us start by preparing cookies, pies and fancy Christmas cakes.
Some of us watch our televisions for targeted sappy holiday fare, and some of us don our Christmas sweater, socks and whatever else we shall wear.
It never truly feels like Christmas in the middle of November. And even then the spirit doesn’t hit quite right in the early days of December. The commercials are tiring, the malls are hiring, but it all feels forced and fake. It’s commercialism to the highest degree, and how much more can we take?
I’ll say this:
It feels like Christmas when somebody walking past me says “Happy holidays!” It feels like Christmas when loved ones send cards. It feels like Christmas when you sit back and notice the ornaments shining on their branches, symbols of love and hope, of life that grows ever bountiful.
It feels like Christmas on a cold December morning, a few days back. Genevieve — now seven weeks old and typically quieter, still a little sleepy, and frequently happy during the morning — was cooing and fidgeting while in my arms. So I played some music and began to dance with her.
First, this is a wonderful revelation that I hadn’t thought of previously, that you can dance with your child because she is so tiny and, well, you really should. It’s not difficult to think about this very scenario some decades down the line, when she’s wearing a dress and you’re in a suit and, my goodness, my daughter is married.
But everyone tells you to stop and appreciate every little moment of those early days. So you tend to snap back and remember that she’s nine pounds and cooing in your arms.
So, dancing with Genevieve, my favorite holiday song played — “This Christmas” by Donny Hathaway. And I began to sing the words. Then came the chorus:
“And this Christmas will be
A very special Christmas for me”
It’s a simple chorus, as simple as most of them get, and yet I instantly began to well up, tears of joy obscuring my vision.
We tend to frame Christmas with traditions we’ve accumulated over time. We may begin listening to our favorite holiday songs in November, or maybe we decorate the tree and house on Thanksgiving weekend. Closer to the day we prepare food and raid shopping malls for whatever the hot toy or gift may be that year. Even the religious ceremonies are filled with time-worn traditions, many of them sacred to us. But we do these things every year because it’s what we know, and it’s what’s comfortable.
But this Christmas was different. Genevieve’s November birth set back our plans of travel for a week. We’ll have Christmas at home, and good friends with their own newborn are coming over for a homemade feast of Chinese food. A new tradition.
Or maybe not. This happenstance may never again occur.
I’m excited to embrace what I don’t know, what isn’t comfortable. Because out of that come the unexpected moments, those filled with tears, proof that life itself is a wonderful thing.
