Weird Holiday

This is a strange topic to write about, because I am just feeling through it myself, so bear with me as I try to sort it all out at once.

This has been a weird Christmas season. There. I said it.

Christmas cards have been fewer and further between, and the fabulous Interlochen Christmas lights display was dimmed this year because too much traffic last year caused too many fights in the neighborhood. Even the little house on the corner of Lamar and Fielder that always decorates its yucca plants with Christmas balls didn't get into the holiday spirit this year. Only the large house on Park Row has kept the faith, with its towering poinsettia tree. I was so grateful to see that tree--I can't even tell you.

Besides the waning holiday spirit, there's been a lot of bad stuff happening in Arlington. A few days ago, a drunk driver wrecked into a line of cars and then took off, wrecking into another. He killed one driver and then shot a Good Samaritan who was coming up to offer help. And you know what else? Not only was it 1 o'clock in the afternoon, and not only was this guy on a murderous rampage while completely drunk off his ass, he had his twin toddlers strapped into the back seat when he made the choice to take others' lives. If that won't kill the holiday spirit, nothing will.

A lot of my friends have spoken about this holiday being particularly hard, and I am right there with them. I still think there should be a period of mourning after a death in the family. Not being expected to travel and see everyone or join in the holiday spirit would be such an amazing blessing right now. I thought I was doing OK until we went to Zach's office party last weekend, and someone innocently asked "Is Olivia your only child? Are you planning on having more?" So, what are you saying? That Olivia somehow isn't enough? And why is my family planning any of your business? It's a question that gets asked of couples with one child all the time, and it's intrusive and downright rude. It's as bad as being married without children (which we were for ten years, so we got a decade of this bullshit) and having people ask when you will get pregnant. Or they assume that every cold and flu or every weird craving is a sign of your impending pregnancy.

To all of you who are struggling to stay merry during this holiday season, I say stop. Whether you are struggling with the loss of loved ones, or serious illness, or impending divorce, or any of combination thereof, be gentle and kind with yourself and stop trying to feel happy. There's nothing more ghastly than forced gaiety. I remember one of my favorite books when I was a girl was Rilla of Ingleside by LM Montgomery. The heroine recounts the loss of her favorite brother in WWI and the Christmas following his death:

"I am thankful Christmas is over," Rilla wrote in her diary during the last week of a stormy December. "We had dreaded it so—the first Christmas since Courcelette. But we had all the Merediths down for dinner and nobody tried to be gay or cheerful. We were all just quiet and friendly, and that helped. Then, too, I was so thankful that Jims had got better—so thankful that I almost felt glad—almost but not quite. I wonder if I shall ever feel really glad over anything again. It seems as if gladness were killed in me—shot down by the same bullet that pierced Walter's heart. Perhaps some day a new kind of gladness will be born in my soul—but the old kind will never live again."

Don't try to be gay or cheerful this season. And be patient. As Rilla said, some day a new sort of gladness will be born in your soul, but don't try to force it.