It’s not about me at Christmas

I relish Christmas holidays, always have, even when the past year gets spotted with disappointment and sadness. Others complain about the commercialism, competitive light decorations, or the endless jingle bells music, but I don’t. I jump into the gaiety, opening my eyes, ears, and nose to all around me, and preparing me for the coming year. In fact, early Christians knew a marketing opportunity when they saw one steaing December 25th and customs from pagan winter solstice traditions.

In a 2018 CBS interview historian Kenneth Davis said, “As early as the fourth century… there was a feast called Saturnalia that celebrated the [winter] solstice… the day that the sun comes back, the days get longer. And most of the traditions that we have that relate to Christmas relate to the solstice, which was celebrated in ancient Rome on December 25….There’s a little discrepancy about it but there’s no question that the fact that it was celebrated in Rome as an important day with gift giving, candle lighting, and singing and decorating houses really cemented Christmas as December 25.”

I harness my inner pagan. I drop dollars in the Salvation Army pot, write checks to charities, and tip excessively. I dive into present making, buying, and wrapping. Whether it’s a small, silly stocking stuffer or a large, valuable gift, I most enjoy the happy excitement it bestows on the beneficiary. On the edge of my chair, I hover, watching my grown daughter’s wonder and abandonment as she rips wrapping ribbon and paper. It’s the box that sparks joy, not always the gift inside.

A few days ago, as I walked into a grocery store, I passed a young freshly minted 20s-something professional, smartly dressed, pushing a cart with a three foot fresh fir tree. He held its stable, along with the boxes of lights and ornaments. The grin on his face told me all I needed to know. Be it tree decorating, garland strewing, cookie making, or dinner hosting, let your guard down like this young man and take up traditions.

Focusing on others fills me with delight, so different from the pride I feel targeting achievement during the rest of the year when life becomes all about me. I plow my way toward goals, often ignoring consequences. My husband and daughter shake their heads, but forgive me. 

This year, as we emerge from isolation and America’s chaos, let these holidays begin a life of less hubris, more kindness and simple pleasures. Let sadness, anger, and disappointment transform into hope and optimism. Let yourself sparkle, no matter how simple or ornate your holiday may be.