In
our world of never-ending war, of hatred and division, of cronyism
and corruption, of mistrust and fear, the holiday season offers a
chance to take a deep breath and let in the peace, joy and love that
we crave and deserve.
For
many, it is the joy of celebrating the birth of the Prince of Peace;
for others it is the act of selfless giving, or family gatherings, or
decorating the tree, or the lighting up of holiday displays, or the
wide-eyed happiness of children opening presents which just might
have been delivered by Santa Claus. “‘Cause Mom, I heard
the reindeer on the roof. I did!!”
In
the avowedly atheist home I grew up in, Christmas was still a big
deal. Mom and I shopped for a tree on Christmas Eve when New York
Street vendors were slashing prices to sell off the ragged –
but to us, beautiful -- last of their stock. Dad made a wonderful
holiday lasagna with little meat balls. Friends came over to share
drinks, fellowship and politics. My little sister and I got to stay
up until midnight so we could open our presents.
Then
we age, and we get caught up in the madness of politics, of racial,
ethnic and gender prejudice, of the often harsh discipline of work
and wage inadequacy, of a broken health care system. And we develop
“conditions” that annoy us, like arthritis or job
injuries or diabetes, that turn us inward, feeding the
self-centeredness that seems to be the hallmark of America these
days.
Or
worse: we develop heart problems, or cancer, or COPD, or we just get
old, and meeting friends we default to the geezer conversation,
telling each other about our ills and pills. Sometimes we notice a
spectacular sunset, but that seems to happen less and less. It
doesn’t have to be that way. We have choices.
Joseph
Campbell wrote: “We can’t cure the world of sorrows, but
we can choose to live in joy.” We do have choices. And this
holiday season I’ve noticed several choices made that spread
joy.
I
have multiple myeloma, an incurable blood plasma cancer that sucks
the calcium out of my bones. It was diagnosed mid-2017 when I
sneezed and broke two ribs. I am also approaching 81 with various
other more-or- less serious afflictions. I’m a good candidate
for that “default conversation” and I sometimes have it.
But I do notice beautiful sunsets, and good books, and the wild
critters we share space with out in rural Pima County. And the
essential goodness of others. It helps that I am blessed with good
union-negotiated health insurance.
Just
before the holidays I was receiving my twice-weekly chemotherapy
infusion when a woman with a shopping bag came into the room. In her
60s, she was handing out home-made holiday cards attached to red and
white pipe-cleaner Christmas tree ornaments. All she said, was
“Happy Holidays,” and moved on to the next patient. Perhaps she had
lost someone to cancer, or was a survivor herself, or
perhaps she was just moved to bring joy to us as we took the
cancer-killing toxins into our bodies. Whatever the motivation, she
was spreading joy in a place that could always sure use it.
When
finished with that day’s chemo I waited in the reception room
for my spouse, who was using the often-unpredictable time to run some
errands, and a family of four came in. I don’t know who the
patient was, but one of the four was a delightfully animated girl of
three or four. Since my earlier gift had three little ornaments, I
kept one and took the others over to ask the little girl’s
mother if I could give them to her. Mom smiled and said, “Sure,”
and her daughter made my day with a big grin. Spreading joy is
contagious!
Some
patients, some businesses, and some staff members bring in various
snacks for us, cookies, crackers, protein shakes, setting them up on
a long counter near a basket of knit hats donated for those who felt
the need to cover up the loss of hair chemo can cause. One day there
were four dozen Amy’s Donuts on the counter. That’s
about $50 worth of the best and most varied donuts in the entire
Southwest! Staff vaguely remembered somebody bringing them, but no
one remembered who it might have been. Lucky us! And if you did it
and might be reading this, thank you!!
On
the drive home, along Picture Rocks Road in the middle of Saguaro
National Park, we noticed that someone had carefully hung bright
ornaments and ribbons on a roadside creosote bush, where headlights
would catch the colors at night. There were even well-wrapped gift
boxes under the “tree.” This is probably a violation of
some government rule, but it hasn’t been torn down, and it
brings a holiday smile to drivers passing by. No harm, no foul.
Spreading
joy is contagious. My wonderfully supportive and helping spouse,
Kait, is going through a bit of a rough patch, and I came up with the
notion of using the Twelve
Days of Christmas
song as my inspiration, and started, well, twelve days before
Christmas. Each morning there is a little more-or-less wrapped gift
on the table, with a revised line from the song. Kait has a big
snowperson collection and I add to it from time to time. She had
recently wondered if any snowdogs were available. I found one
online, but there was a glitch, and so what she got was this: On
the first day of Christmas your true love gave to you/A snowdog
escaped from the zoo/Except the deal fell through/So here’s an
IOU.
It
got tricky sometimes. I couldn’t find anything I could fit the
number nine to, so I took nine roasted almonds (which she loves), put
them in a sandwich bag and wrapped it. I don’t know who got
more enjoyment out of the whole thing, her or me, but it made for
both of us having fun.
Choosing
joy, and spreading it around, is not easy these days. There is so
much to be grumpy about, so it takes practice and a bit of discipline
to make those choices. A number of recovery fellowships use a brief
set of inspirational guidelines that seem to have come from England,
called Just
For Today.
They are a good recipe for a joyful life, no matter what:
Just for today I will try to
live through this day only, and not tackle my whole life problem at
once.
Just for today I will be
happy. This assumes to be true what Abraham Lincoln said, that "most
folks are as happy as they make up their minds to be."
Just for today I will adjust
myself to what is, and not try to adjust everything to my own desires.
I will take my "luck" as it comes, and fit myself to it.
Just for today I will try to
strengthen my mind. I will study. I will learn something useful. I will
not be a mental loafer. I will read something that requires effort,
thought and concentration.
Just for today I will exercise
my soul in three ways; I will do somebody a good turn, and not get
found out; if anybody knows of it, it will not count. I will do at
least two things I don't want to do - just for exercise. I will not
show anyone that my feelings are hurt; they may be hurt, but today I
will not show it.
Just for today I will be
agreeable. I will look as well as I can, dress becomingly, talk low,
act courteously, criticize not one bit, not find fault with anything,
and not try to improve or regulate anybody but myself.
Just for today I will have a
program. I may not follow it exactly, but I will have it. I will save
myself from two pests: hurry and indecision.
Just for today I will have a
quiet half hour all by myself, and relax. During this half hour,
sometime, I will try to get a better perspective of my life.
Just for today I will be
unafraid. Especially I will not be afraid to enjoy what is beautiful,
and to believe that as I give to the world, so the world will give to
me.
I
especially like the fifth one down, and have the most trouble with
the sixth. But, hey, nobody’s perfect!
In
the languages me
and Kait’s immigrant forebears brought with them: NOLLIAG
SHONA, HYVÄÄ JOULUA, BUON NATALE, GOD JUL, GËZUAR
KRISHTLINDTJET, LOTSHONNÓNNIA KI RATONNIÁ NE !
and
(maybe)
BUORIT JUOVLLAT. All of which say
HAPPY CHRISTMAS
everyone, and best wishes for a less cantankerous New
Year.
