I'm not a "Christmas person". I don't much enjoy the music, or the trees, or the light displays. I don't at all enjoy the shopping or the nativity scenes. I especially don't enjoy the compartmentalized and superficial proclamations of peace and giving that seem like they're trying to make up for the rest of the year when we're all busy pushing our own agendas, jostling for position and status within a structure built on trampling others to get ahead. I could go on but...
All that being said, this time of year puts into particular focus for me the instances and ways in which I am given gifts during this season that transcend the perfunctory culture of the holidays. So I'm getting on board with Christmas in a small way that doesn't feel like sandpaper against my brain; I'm choosing to focus on a few bright spots.
1.) The man behind the counter at the gas station started telling me a story this week as I was checking out about how he recently visited Nova Scotia and as he was getting off the plane there was a large crowd of people gathered in the airport, including many airport employees and local political figures. A plane of Syrian refugees was just arriving from overseas and they were gathered to welcome them. As they got off the plane, a group of airport attendants were there waiting to guide them and carry their luggage. The crowd was cheering and singing. The man at the gas station told me how he hasn't been able to stop thinking about this, and how it was one of the most incredible sights he's ever seen. By the time I left that gas station with my gatorade and potato chips, we were both crying a little.
2.) Yesterday the kids and I waited in line in the cold outside a specialty candy store for an hour. Besides a few older women having stressful-sounding conversations on their cellphones, no one was talking much. The girls didn't seem to notice the glum mood though, and proceeded to giggle nonstop with each other for the entire hour. At most points it was unclear even to me what, exactly, was so funny, but they'd just look at each other and laugh, or make a face and laugh, or poke one another and laugh. An older man a bit ahead of us looked over at us after awhile and said seriously "They're making it really hard for me to maintain my bad mood. I'm really trying over here, but it's not working." Later as we were leaving the store (having found out they were out of what we came for) he followed us out and said "I have something for them. They made my day. Just getting to listen to them laugh for an hour was well worth the long wait in the cold. That really was the best part of my day." He gave them little cartons of boxed water with jingle bells on them. I told him "Well, they didn't even have what we came for, but being able to make your day makes me think my wait in line was worth it as well!"
3.) As a nurse, almost all of what I'd love to write about is protected by patient confidentiality guidelines, and with good reason. On a near-daily basis my patients bring me to my knees. Sometimes in frustration, sometimes in sadness, sometimes in sharing in their small victories. Each week brings something new. This week, for the first time, I held a patient's head to my chest as they cried. My professional boundaries usually tend to fall on the stricter side. In fact it was a year into being a nurse before I even gave a patient a hug. But this week, someone leaned into me as they cried, and I didn't hesitate to put my arms around them.
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