~ by Andrea Gambill
Here it comes again — the
Holiday Army — in its annual march against us. Some of its generals are called
"Thanksgiving," "Christmas," "Hanukah," "New
Year’s Eve" and "New Year’s Day." They are no respecters of the
heartbroken and emotionally wounded, and their troops are merciless. They take
no prisoners! They demand that we participate in their joy and nostalgia or
they will mow us down with their militant tanks of holiday spirit.
Actually, we wish them well.
All we really want is for them to leave us alone and let us mourn in peace and
quiet. We prefer our “Silent Nights” to their “Deck the Halls” and Jingle
Bells.” We don’t intentionally spoil their fun, it’s just that our pain makes
them uncomfortable. They’ve been conditioned to believe that “The Holiday
Season” should have no blemish of suffering or lack of frivolity. We must not
only bandage our wounds while in their presence, but cover them with taffeta
and sequins besides. They are convinced that all we need is to “put on a happy
face” and all our sorrows will magically evaporate.
In their mad pursuit of
happiness, they shoot us with the bullets of shopping, piped-in music, special
holiday foods and fragrances, gift wrapping, decorations (especially the
angels!), joyous children with happy smiles, cards, invitations, parties and
gift exchanges. Any other time of the year, snow is considered a nuisance to
shovel and plow through. At the holiday season, though, it is touted as
romantic and is linked to sleighs and starry nights in front of fireplaces,
snuggled close to those we love.
The most devastating bombs
they drop into our lives are the images of reunion — times of greeting and
hugging folks who are much loved and sometimes not often seen for awhile. They
may only be separated by geography; our absent loved ones cannot cross the
chasm of loss that looms before our tear-filled eyes. They remind us of things
we should be thankful for (and we are more thankful for many of those things
than they can ever imagine). They prod us with their spears of delightful
togetherness, never realizing that what they celebrate is what we cannot now
enjoy. We would not dream of attacking them in these battles for holiday
survival. With our noses pressed against the glass that divides us, we actually
long to be able to be part of their happiness. We remember the times we joined
in their fun and we, too, were part of their army of nostalgia and joy.
Our broken hearts and
bleeding wounds do not excuse us from being gracious, however. While grief does
not give us permission to be rude and selfish, and we take no overt action
against their aggression, we are not without defenses in these battles. We can
shield ourselves with the armor of dignity with kind but direct and simple explanations:
“We understand your need for celebration, but this year we prefer quiet and
private reflection and meditation.” “Right now it’s hard for us to function in
large groups and to appreciate laughter and high spirits.” “Our energy is so
limited; we’d appreciate some quiet one-on-one time with you in a more
spiritual atmosphere.”
We can gently remind them of
how important it is for us to remember those we love who are gone. These are
statements that clarify our position without judging or criticizing them for
theirs. In kind and non-threatening ways, we need to tell them what’s good for
us, because they won’t think of it on their own, and they can use the
education.
We also can exercise the
muscles of our sense of humor. It will take some effort on our part, but so
does anything that is worthwhile and good for us. We can teach ourselves not to
fall into the trap of thinking that our grief makes us the center of the
universe. We can limit our demands that others treat us in “special” and
“deferential” ways because of our pain. We can cut them a little slack and
remember that once upon a time, we were just like they are now. It’s good and
healthy for us to review our perspectives now and then and decide if we’re
being fair and reasonable.
We can express our love in
simple and unhurried ways without all the frenetic, expensive and often
hysterical hype that the holidays can generate. And we must exercise the
expression of our love. Grief does not rob us of our ability to love; it
reminds us ever more dramatically of our need to both give and receive love
while we are here.
Whenever we can take some
control in our situations, we empower ourselves, and then we feel less like
victims in what seems like a war of “peace on earth, goodwill toward men.”
Anytime we can educate and inform with mercy and compassion, we have given a
truly spiritual holiday gift of love that will keep on giving forever.
May your season be filled
with genuine blessings of peace.
