Many words can be written and spoken with regard to the festive season. Every angle explored from gift giving to table decorations. From as early as the beginning of October one is reminded …no actually trained into an awareness that Christmas is upon us. Then the media begins with the nostalgia, soft focus images and special offer bundles. Talk show hosts encourage goodwill among all and suddenly one is advised to keep a gratitude journal….just to balance the spirit and mind before the depression becomes too bad. Despite all this Christmas remains a very special time of year for those who have families and for those who have children. How gloriously conspiritorial it is to be part of the web one weaves for the very young…the Faeries, the elves and Father Christmas. The wonderful tales read each night in anticipation of the big day. And selling the story that reindeer gallop across the sky. Magical!! And each mother and father tells it differently…according to family traditions.
On this Christmas eve I reflect on past Christmases and I recall most of all going out at 11pm to midnight Mass. There was something so totally thrilling about driving to a Mass at this time of night with hardly any cars on the road. My childhood was in a rural town so heavy traffic was highly unlikely. The Mass was always something that touched me in a new way each year. Now I can’t go to Mass because of my difficulty in the unconditional doctrine transsubstantiation. I may of course not receive communion under these circumstances since this would be a spiritual violation. But…I still maintain my catholic traditions within my home and wait for the Mass on radio thanks to EWTN.
I don’t have Gratitude journals. I just know that I am thankful that my mother is still with me at this time. Yesterday I came to a point of reality …a severe lesson delivered to me by a family member.
Tears were shed but now I know what my value is to this person. I have learned that the time and effort invested in trying to communicate and build a foundation of communication was really for nothing. In the end it counted for little. And all it took was single phone call. But…this is Christmas and one tries to focus on the promises renewed each liturgical year with this celebration and I am grateful ….grateful for another chance to make a difference and to experience the kindness of many.
Namasté to all who read these words….and true peace for just a little while.