Get over it!

 

A Christmas plate with real nostalgic memories

I’ve turned my attention to Christmas this week—taking a vacation from writing in the hope that when I go back to it, the novel will begin to take more shape in my mind. And, besides, Christmas was nudging at me.

It is going to be a different Christmas this year, there’s no denying it. I have read several posts on several lists from people who just can’t seem to get in the Christmas spirit lately. Whether it’s the pandemic or the divisive political situation, this year is just definitely different. But when I begin to moan about not seeing three of my four children and six of my seven grandchildren, no parties to plan, few festive foods to prepare, I give myself a mental slap and tell myself to “Get over it!” Christmas always is—and will be this year—what we make of it.

In truth, I think I gave my last big “tree trimming” party in 2015, five whole years ago. After that health interfered—in 2016 my disintegrated hip was giving me fits and I was told not to walk on it in anticipation of January surgery. You can’t host fifty-to-sixty people at a party if you can’t walk, let alone fix the food. Some of my favorite recipes got pushed to the side. By 2017 I was in the cottage, which can’t hold ten people, let alone fifty. I did manage small semi-parties, but this year we can’t even do that. If I fixed a caviar dip for the immediate family, I’d be the only one who would eat it. Same with the pate that my brother thought was one of the best things he’d ever eaten.

We can still entertain one or two couples on the patio if the weather cooperates—the last few days have been a lovely reprieve after that cold spell. Tonight I am expecting two neighbors who usually come every Tuesday—I call them the Tuesday Night Ladies. But even when we can have people on the patio, we don’t serve dips and charcuterie boards and all the appetizers that we used to love to prepare. It’s strictly things you can give people in single servings—no communal dishes, so we usually just don’t serve any food. I keep a big bag of sesame treats for one friend—I call it Phil’s bag of treats.

With Jordan’s determination, we are going to make it a festive Christmas. Christian has spent a couple of late nights meticulously putting lights on their tree, and she has put up lots of lights on the front of the house, discovering just how unpleasant holly bushes can be. Jordan has my cottage quite festive with a table-top artificial tree (next year I’m going to order in time to get a live tree!), light sticks mixed into the vase of pussy willows, a glass block with Christmas lights in it that I’ve had for years. Adding to the warmth is the small, artificial fireplace Jamie gave me.

Then there’s the matter remembering those who are special to you with gifts. For me part of not getting in the spirit was that I just stared blankly at my Christmas gift list. I can’t blame it on not being out in the stores, because I never am. I’m a dedicated online shopper. But this year I had no idea what to give anyone. Grandchildren are always a problem for me. I’ve resisted the gift card route for years, claiming I wanted them to have things that they could say, years from now, my grandmother gave me this. That principle is going out the window this year. Many of my adult friends will find that I have made a contribution to their favorite charity in their name. It’s just the way this different year is.

For us, not being able to gather at church has made a difference too. I want to join with others in singing hymns, I want to hear the familiar scriptures in a beautifully decorated sanctuary, I want to pray along with others. We had a near-catastrophe when I got an email that did not list our traditional eleven o’clock at night service. We had planned our Christmas Eve around it. A call to the church elicited a “Oops!” on their part, so at least we will have the virtual service.

No, it’s not going to be the same. But it will be whatever you make of it. Get over those holiday blues!