Xmas

Intro: I was depressed last Christmas (big surprise) but I wanted to write about it... so this is what I wrote about. I want to edit it and try to submit it to one of the magazines that publish Christmas stories each year... but it is a little personal so I am not sure if I am ready to yet...



I started this year off like I did any year at the holiday season. Planning gifts to who, watching the ads for good deals on the items my children where most likely to ask for, watching for stores that did lay a way. But there were a few extra stressors that had added to the usual holiday stress. It would be the first holiday since I lost my mother. My mother was one who knew how to do the holidays. It was always our window you looked through into the best holiday party. Our perfect tree surrounded with the perfect amount of gifts. Every neighbor, teacher, friend was not forgotten. Even as a grandmother she would make certain that her grandkids had the perfect Christmas... even if she had to help us pile it under the tree. We had our traditions that she would not let go forgotten, and would give us an extra bonus if it was needed. Now Dad was great too, never missed an event, and has taken off work to be at every elementary grandparents day, but I don’t think he will ever truly know how much time and money went into my mothers holidays.

I had already been preparing my self mentally for my kids sake as well as my brothers and sisters sake. I knew the first year would be hard, but come it would. I just didn’t realize that it would be met with other challenges as well.

It was a hard year for the economy. My husband had been at a job he enjoyed and was good at as a mechanic for the past year, and I had been substitute teaching since I had my youngest child 8 years ago. This year my husbands company filed for bankruptcy after not making payroll 2 months in a row. My job was steady, but it only just covered our house and car payments plus utilities. It was then I began resenting the holidays.

The week before Thanksgiving I was trying to plan how it would work. I sat gazing out the window as it began to snow. Thoughts of a previous Christmas came back to me. It was only a couple years before. It had been a true Christmas miracle. My husband had quit his job and decided to try a new business. It had been going well... but with the holidays it seemed everyone was trying avoid unnecessary expenses. We were working once again about the holidays. Late one night only a week before Christmas there was a knock at the door. Te kids were still up and beat me there. But no one was there. Only a small pile of gifts. The Santa Clause Movie, a sign with a single word and a small package. The kids were excited and looked around trying to see who had left it, while my husband and opened the package. It was a gift card to the local department store, for a thousand dollars. I began crying uncontrollably my husband were speechless. My children popped in the movie unaware of the miraculous gift. We had a great Christmas that year I thought to myself as I turned and looked at the sign we had received that year. Believe.
Why was such a simple instruction so hard to follow? Believe. I stood up and began to get back to planning our Thanksgiving dinner. We were all meeting at my dad’s for the big meal. I was grateful my husband had taken the time to learn to cook from my mom since I never had the desire. She had been a great cook. Stomach aches of goodies were always waiting for us at home over the holidays. Cranberry bread, toffee, fudge shortbread. I had learned to make shortbread, it was the easiest. Thanksgiving came and went. We all ate too much the cousins played and we reflected on my mom’s life, and how ours would be different without her. Once again after surviving yet another holiday without her I felt more prepared to attack the next one.

The first week of December my husband met me for lunch, nothing out of the ordinary, but he was quiet. He had donated blood at a drive a couple weeks before. They had found some abnormalities and sent it in for further testing. They found signs of cancer and wanted him to come in for further testing. The rest our evening was too quiet. My mother had passed so quickly from her cancer it was the worry neither of us dared voice.

That night I sat and reflected once again on past Holidays. The year I had been pregnant with my youngest we had just moved and my husband had started a new job. My mom had started me collecting Barbies when I was younger and had kept every single box, hoping they may be worth something one day. My husband had collect baseball cards since his youth and had quite a collection of baseball memorabilia. Our girls and oldest son were the appropriate ages for these 2 new hobbies and we wrapped our special possessions for their new owners. I am certain that those barbies mint in box were not nearly worth the hours of smiles and joy they gave my girls. Nor will those baseball cards ever be able to cover our retirement, but they certainly gave my son his love of baseball.

With my husband being ill, and my mom being gone I learned to paint my face with a smile every morning for my children regardless of the battle going on in my head. As a mother I knew I had to provide my children with some kind of material Christmas. But as a wife I had larger concerns engulfing my thoughts. My husband too sick to look for a job, our budget to stretched to Christmas shop, I got another job.

It was in a home furnishing store, and I enjoyed it, I did however feel like I was missing out on my time with my kids, but it was a needed sacrifice at the time. On quiet days I found my mind wishing for the better years of Christmas we had. Like the first year I discovered lay-a-way. I was finished before November. Every child had exactly what the wanted and I had plenty of money for eery last minute thing that came up. Or the year where we had a friend who owned a small toy store able to give us a great price on large toys we never would have been able to get otherwise. It was then I realized that materialistic Christmas side was winning the war in my head. The year my husband had returned home from the army, to me his pregnant wife. Issues with his pay making it home to me cut Christmas shopping down drastically. A member of our church knew my predicament and had a young man in the church wanting to do a service project. He had earned money and wanted to do a “sub for santa” I could not believe a teenager good be so generous at this time of year, and decided then that I was going to be certain to raise our son that generous.

The flow of traffic increased and I got back to work, my last thoughts wondering if my I had raised my children to be generous. I didn’t realize I would get my answer after work. My daughter had been babysitting that evening and we returned home nearly the same time. After putting the younger two children to bed my oldest daughter pulled out her money for her babysitting job and gave it to me. “To help with Christmas” she said with a smile. “Goodnight” I was speechless. I had tried not to involve my kids in my stress, they needed time to be kids right? But I guess they are smarter than we think, because she knew, knew without me saying anything. That night the first big snow hit. My youngest son woke excited for it, so did my oldest son. My youngest couldn’t find his snow clothes fast enough, neither could the oldest. They both disappeared for a couple hours outside and both returned covered in snow and cold. After warming them up with hot chocolate my oldest son pulled me aside, “Hey I earned 45$ shoveling snow, use it for what ever you still need for Christmas. I just need a little more towards Dad’s present.”

In the week before Christmas we were in and out of doctors offices, biopsies, blood work, lab tests all became a blur. Because regardless of all the signs that had been flashed in my face about the true meaning of Christmas, I was still trapped in the commercial world of Christmas. I fought with my husband, I yelled at my Children, I think I even pushed the dog away, stubborn blind me missed how much my friends, family, even people I hardly knew cared about me. I worried that I was becoming another charity case, someone who always had to rely on others to help her out. Instead I finally realized that my favorite part of the holidays, were everyone’s favorite part too. I loved planning what I would get family and friends, I couldn’t help but smile bigger when I was able to drop a handful of change in the bell ringers jar. I had almost more fun shopping for an unknown 4 year old girl off a Christmas tree than I did for my own 12 year old girl. And while I was not able to help contribute financially to others Christmas, in a small way I helped them feel the spirit of the holidays, even if it was just accepting help.

After the final follow-up before my husband was to start the treatment for the cancer we returned home before my children were out of school. Sitting on our porch were 5 large garbage bags full. Presents for each of my children were loaded in those bags. Things they had asked for, things they would like, more than I could have hoped to been able to provide. Because with my extra job, I had no time, with my husband being sick he had no time. We had enough income to cover our basics and a little more. But I realized I had enough friends to cover all my shortcomings, and I hope I can return the favor if ever needed.


I feel like this Christmas, while tough, it has opened my eyes to how wonderful people are, how generous my kids are, how selfish I had been. I got through our first Christmas without mom with a constant waterfall in my eyes, but I think she was there. She helped me be open to help. My husband starts treatment for his cancer the beginning of the year, and it is treatable, the Doctors are all optimistic. I am still working hard and my husband starts a new job after the new year, while his business while small is slowly building. I still like nothing more than sitting by the fire sipping hot chocolate and admiring my sign from the angel I will never know. I believe.