I awaken with a familiar pang – my mom used to talk about it every holiday. She felt the blues so strongly in the days following – she hungered for the days of family and love and togetherness to stick around. But for our family, those days were rare. With an alcoholic husband, parents who never came to visit, and relatives and friends who needed more than they gave, my mom’s everydays were difficult days.
Things are different for me. I have a good husband, a great son and daughter-in-love, a precious grandson, friends who have become family and family that reminds me of my roots. But the blues are
just as strong, and I find myself needing just a little more Christmas, just a little more kindness and togetherness. Just a little more holiday. Just a little more holy day.
The more I ponder the season, the more I hunger for holy moments that begin earlier and linger longer. I long for candles and choirs and whispered prayers of loved ones. My heart hungers for the awe that comes in a night sky blazing with starlight and the angels singing. And my soul needs to feel the joy that comes from the surprise and delight of unexpected gifts – gifts given not out of obligation but out of love.
I’m ready for Christmas to be here – again.