Wednesday 24 December 2003

Whereas Thankgiving is my favorite holiday of the year, Christmas isn't so high on mine as it would be on another person's list. It's not that Christmas is a bad day per se, or that the meaning behind it isn't truly life-altering... it's just that... well... here, let's put it this way: Last month when I was cooking at Mom's, I was talking with Shelly. I mentioned that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday of the year. To accentuate that thought I said it had, "All of the comfort of family, without the pressure of Christmas."

Shelly laughed as she said, "There's enough pressure from family already." She was kidding, of course, but for some reason I continued... that I feel guilty each Christmas because I can never seem to afford to give presents as nice as the ones I receive. Shell's laughter was gone and she became quite serious. "It's not what you spend on Christmas presents, as long as they come from the heart," she said. I knew that, and told her I did. Christmas last year was not as bad as most... despite spending all of under $100 for everyone combined, I was indeed able to shop "from the heart" and find quite a number of bargains along the way. The only thing about which I felt bad was that each of my nieces have birthdays within four days of Christmas (Jackie three days before, Gabby four days after), and I didn't have enough left to get either anything for their birthdays.

Last Christmas was a very strange time for me... working two jobs I had enough money for a little shopping, but I was clearly being readied for a heave out the door from Holmen. Students were coming to me with comments they'd said or copies of letters they'd written trying to save me. I felt incredibly loved. At Mom's over the break, I was lost... adrift... uncertain as to what the district administrator was going to do... not sure how long I'd teach that year, or whether I'd ever be able to again. Everyone at home saw I was asea, and each was as supportive of me as I'd ever before noticed. (Though things looked pretty bleak at the time, I was at least given hope from my students and their families. I had no clue, of course, of Kari's damaging phone call to the sheriff.)

I went to Christmas at Yvonne's three years ago with love and hope in my heart (only to have it squashed three weeks later). Two years ago J.J. tried to make Christmas better for me, but being broke didn't help. Any Christmas spent with my daughter was absolutely beautiful. All told, that makes seven out of my last eleven Christmases decent, and you'd think that not so bad a percentage. Sadly, when it comes right down to it, decent Christmases have actually numbered maybe ten out of my last thirty.

Not only do I feel guilty about not being able to afford shopping "from the heart" (perhaps I've too big a heart!), but I also have another terribly bad habit. I don't write as often as I should... including Christmas cards. People who know me have given up on me writing and sending Christmas cards, and most people won't send cards to someone who doesn't write back. (This year I received exactly three cards.)

Continue...