What does the Christmas holiday mean to you this year?
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I ask “this year” because the meaning of the holiday has changed for me through the years. Possibly it has for you, too.
In my youth, it meant Christmas presents and a two-week reprieve from school. Nothing more, really.
Large family get-togethers were so common that I took them for granted. And they were littered with so many arguments that I figured every family got together to celebrate Jesus’ birth by bickering with each other. And habitually taking the Lord’s name in vain.
My Uncle Bobby would say something stupid. My dad would counter him in a louder voice. Next thing we knew, they were cursing in Croatian, pounding their chests and stomping away in the midst of another ruined holiday.
“Mom, could you pass the mashed potatoes?” I would ask, oblivious to tension in the room that could be stabbed with a fork.
As a kid, watching adults fighting with each other was much more entertaining than watching Rudolph, Frosty, Ralphie or The Grinch. Only once I became an adult did arguing during holiday gatherings lose its entertainment value.
When my own kids came into the picture, the holidays were all about them, not me. Their gifts, their holiday spirit, their school break, their belief (or not) in Santa Claus. I just kept rolling that boulder up a hill and hoped it didn’t roll back on me.
I also did my best to avoid getting into any heated arguments during family gatherings. Even though I was questioning the very existence of Jesus, his true birth date, and every other religious detail about the holiday. Still, God forbid that I exhume the ancestral anger of my deceased dad and uncle by starting a fight on Christmas Day.
Instead, cheery politeness was served as the main course. Feigned smiles were spooned out like instant mashed potatoes. Passive-aggressiveness was the gift that kept on giving. The smallest of talk danced in the air. Ho ho hum.
As I got older, and more mature, I began exploring the true “reason for the season,” through biblical scripture, less selfish actions, giving from the heart, and learning how to say “thank you” – sincerely, not reflexively – when receiving gifts from others.
Giving thanks didn’t come easy to me. I had to fake it to make it. And then to eventually understand it. It’s always been easier to give than to receive. It looks selfless but it’s more selfish than you might think.
In time, a new sense of genuine appreciation began blanketing me, warming up my Grinch-like cynicism. Appreciation for my life, my loved ones, my small orbit of friends, my health, and my new outlook. Skepticism still hijacks my hope, but not as often.
I stopped caring so much about the religious mysteries swirling around Christmas. I started caring more about universal human qualities that came without any mystery – kindness, thoughtfulness, empathy, compassion.
I could see these timeless qualities in action. They transcend sacred dogma. They shame religious hypocrisy. No preachy book of parables is needed to perform such daily miracles. Just give a damn, show it sincerely, and act on it with authenticity.
This is where I am “this year” regarding the upcoming Christmas holiday. Reflective of my past. Keenly aware of being present. More hopeful than doubtful of the future. (My apologies for condensing 50 years of experiences into just 500 words of explanation.)
So, what does Christmas this year embody to you?
“Think about what is the most important part of the holidays for you, and focus on what the holidays mean to you,” suggested Ellen Lucas, associate director of Ball State University’s counseling center.
Is it truly “the most wonderful time of the year?” Or does this time of year make you feel anything but wonderful? Do old wounds get reopened? Do distant memories rush back without permission? Does melancholy or loneliness seep into bed with you at night?
“It’s more a time of reflection and remembrance,” said Jacquetta Finnegan, of Portage.
Her mother died Nov. 30, 1990, and that year’s Christmas was a blur, she said.
“She had had some close calls, but she always rallied and got well,” Finnegan recalled. “That last time she went in the hospital, she did not come back. I was 29 years old and my mom was gone.”
Finnegan said she knows three people who’ve lost a family member during this week. It’s no coincidence, I believe. Similar fates are on our emotional radars. We become guided by those aforementioned qualities, empathy and compassion.
“My heart goes out to these families. There will be one less person around the table, one less person at the Christmas tree opening presents,” Finnegan said.
“Sometimes things just hit you out of the blue. You are crying, and your emotions are raw again. You learn to reach out to others who are hurting, too, and try to comfort them,” she said.
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Her second Christmas without her mother was worse than the first one without her.
“You aren’t numb anymore. You’re hurting, and you miss the person you’ve lost. Why is everyone so freaking happy and you are sad?” she asked.
“You lost your dad, so you know what I’m talking about,” Finnegan told me.
Regular readers of this column may know that my dad died on Christmas Eve 1987. Yeah, 30 years ago this Christmas. Ever since that day, this “holiday” has always included his memory.
It’s like the ghost from Christmases Past always shows up at our family gatherings. His name is always dancing in our heads. I swear I can sometimes smell his cigar smoke and hear Croatian curse words in the distance.
I’m tempted to start an argument in his honor this year. Just to evoke his memory. But it’s not what Christmas means to me. At least not this year. Who knows about next year, though.
Twitter@jdavich