Holidays Hale and Hearty

As the holidays approach, I see a lot of hysteria. My friends at the gym twitter like birds about gifts for their ungrateful children or travel plans, and the people at work compare schedules, days off, and planned menus, the drugery of in-laws, or surprises in store. The malls are clogged, and even the internet shopping sites are backlogged. Everyone scuttles around, busy with visions of something or other, and nobody seems really to think about the potential for the holiday season for loving each other.

I know that Christmas is supposed to celebrate the birth of Jesus, but Jesus wasn't even born in December; Christians celebrate this time of year as his birth as it overlapped the solstice festival from the pagan religions that preceded Christianity. So as not to be pagan, Christians attributed Christ's birthday to this time of year. But when I'm talking about "the holiday season," I'm thinking less of the Christian holiday elements and more about the generosity and inclusiveness of the holiday season.

Gifts used to be my primary focus of the holiday, with family and friends rounding out the experience. From my parents and then a succession of boyfriends and my husband, I was used to getting a fair booty of stuff. I anticipated it well into adulthood with a shamless and undiluted glee reminiscent of a child. It was terrific. I loved books, games, pretty clothes, and jewelry in some abundance. It made the time special, to wear something new, spend time on something new, and then to see the people in my life who mattered, sharing with them my new sparkle plenty. It was exciting! I have some good memories there.

But as I sit here now, however, I can't help but think of how none of the stuff really matters. I live alone and conduct my life alone, what matters isn't the stuff I had then, or even what I've lost in people and relationships. What really and truly matters, as I sit here now, is the love I have for people who matter to me. I can give them love in abundance. Maybe they won't last as a part of my life, just like the games and books have passed through my life over time. But right now, as I sit here, I love, and nothing I shop for and then wrap can compete with that. Relationships may be only temporary, as we're all ultimately divided by distance, time, or death; though only the intangible is permanent, whether we call it God or some other form of the divine, we can, even temporarily, love wholeheartedly, for as long as the people we love are part of our lives.

Do those grousing people at the gym or the crankly coworkers remember to love well?

My friend D in Chicago invited me to spend the holiday with his family, and that invitation meant a great deal. It's loving well. Someone outside of my family (whom I adore, but who are sort of obligated to include me) actually threw open a door during this sacrosant time of year and said, "Please come, and welcome... we want you to be a part of our celebration." So I booked at ticket, and I'm terribly excited. It's somewhat unfortunate that I don't fit easily and recognizably into a family system of celebration at this time of my life, as I am not a child, nor am I a spouse or a parent. But I remain a loving person, and D and his family in their openheartedness reached out to me because of their consideration and celebration of me as a loving person; I am all too happy to reach back.

My running friend at the gym wants to buy me a gift for the holiday, which is touching, but when she asked what I wanted, I was gratified to realize, I had no answer for her. I have enough, and not to want is a freedom I haven't ever experienced before.

Presents don't matter after all. Love matters.