A Tough Year Ends with Joy, Reflection
by BARBARA DICKINSON

Here I sit, the fifteenth of November, and Christmas wares in the stores look shopworn and tarnished. Or am I jaded on the season in general? That could be the reason. Consider this: two weeks prior to Halloween hailed the target day for Christmas displays to be aligned on walls, counters, under shelves and even dangle from ceilings in every store big and little. What, I ask, happened to Thanksgiving?

A cursory tour uncovered two or three miserable looking turkeys peeking from beneath red and green Made-in-Taiwan needlepoint stockings. And these were placemats with florid pictures of turkeys. Not exactly the kind of gem the general public snaps up in desperation.

So with Halloween happily in the past, election fever reduced to a dull throb, and Thanksgiving around the corner, it is right and proper that one starts thinking about Yuletide. The nearly two months of hoopla about that holiday has me shopped out. I am merely going to think about Christmas this year. Right here, on paper, barefaced before you, my readers. (I am not forgetting that I did produce five mammoth scrapbooks for my children way back in June. Whether they like it or not, THAT is Christmas, ‘04!)

My life has changed this year. From casual jump-in-the-car, go anywhere, anytime person, I have become a serious and devoted caregiver to a spouse who needs me. I make lists before leaving for any errand to get the most out of every mile. I measure time in minutes when away from home. This is not gloom and doom, nor am I hoping for sorrowful glances. Not at all. I find great joy in seeing my patient recover bit by bit, day by day. I enjoy the leisure of more time at home, something I’ve never enjoyed previously.

Although I should have the cleanest closets and shelves in the city, with all my extra time, that is, I do not. My hours aren’t gobbled up with cleaning. I am enjoying. I have wiped my slate clean of obligations and deadlines and found that the most pressing engagement I have is tea time each afternoon with my patient. Close behind is Scrabble Hour. Will we have time for that today? So the crowds and crush of Christmas will not see me this year. I’ll be home scrabbling the Scrabble or stirring the pot. And reflecting. Definitely, this Christmas will be more about reflecting than collecting.

Reflection means looking back, and inside ourselves, and thinking about what is truly important. Not the gift, but the thought, and love, behind it. This time of the year has long been one of reflection for me and, I like to think, for my children. We count our blessings and share our talents and generosities, both in tangible too-lavish gifts and with the spirit of giving. Our large family for many years has drawn names, a veritable breath-holding experience. Amazing what each of us manages to discover that surprises his or her siblings or parent.

One year a son gave notice that instead of presents he was giving to an urgent plea for African relief. Marvelous, adorable Max came to me as a family Christmas present once upon a time. Handsome doormats have flown out as presents; ditto souvenirs from Prague, Russia, and even pearls from China.

This year, in addition to those aforementioned scrapbooks, I have been thinking about goats, and geese and sheep. I can’t really decide. This particular present supports a favorite charity of mine. It needs every bit of involvement possible. My tiny share won’t rebuild a nation but it will provide a small chunk of bricks and mortar.

Despite our yearnings and promises, nothing can make this old world perfect nor our time on earth any longer. All we can do is savor what we have at this instant, this moment in life, and share the wealth of our blessings. I will reflect upon all Christmases past and the forthcoming holiday as the December days evaporate. I’ll plug in the lights on our tiny tree, turn on the Cambridge choristers singing Old English carols, and fetch two cups of tea for Himself and me to sip. Then I’ll probably stew about that gaggle or geese or pair of sheep and wonder if they got to that remote village as promised.

MERRY CHRISTMAS!