My husband and I – as well as most of our friends – lost a lot of ground these past few years. We never anticipated such an economic hit at this point in our lives. We got the education we were supposed to get to do well and prosper. We worked hard and were never lazy. But it seems the only ones in our circle who are going to work these days are the ones who work for themselves.
Our small business started to decline in 2006. It has been bloodier than I would have imagined since but, due to a sudden burst of need for our services in 2009, I’m starting to believe that, for us, the worst of the recession may be over. We survived and we will profit again -- in time.
Still, even though we’re holding on, the Grinch economy has stolen Christmas for us this year -- just as it will for many others. We don’t have the money and, due to the influx of new work, we don’t have the time. We don’t feel comfortable dipping into savings any more, and we simply refuse to do Christmas on a credit card. So, it’s kind of not happening this year. (On the bright side, I’m not likely to be killed in a stampede at Target.)
I find myself wishing this weren’t so. I love Christmas. In better years, I saved for it all year and arranged a light schedule in December so I could write cards, buy gifts, bake for special people (like my husband’s doctors, who are heroes to me) and, best of all, decorate my home. I love to be home in the evening amidst the pine wreaths, poinsettias, candles, the little village, the Nativity scene (the little girl in me who grew up Catholic has to have it) and two trees – a small one in the bedroom and a big one in the living room.
But all those things take time, and this year I don’t have the luxury of that. I keep wishing that, if there be angels, maybe some would lend a hand and, magically, make it happen. In my hour of exercise each morning, I pray to my late father and grandparents that, somehow, Christmas will come.
The messages I feel I’m getting back from them is that not every Christmas comes wrapped in a large, ornate bow. Some Christmases are happy without a lot of fuss and spending.
Once when I was a small child -- we went to my grandfather’s small farm for the holidays. Money was always tight there. The Christmas tree was chopped down in their own woods and decorated with one string of lights and a string of popcorn. It was oddly-shaped and scrawny because Grandpa saved the good, full trees to sell to others.
I think because he worked so hard, Grandpa always appeared to many people to be a cold, gruff man. My oldest sister was absolutely terrified of him. But, I never felt afraid of him. I just thought he was too busy to talk a lot. Grandpa was always trying new things to make more income. He had always had a large herd of cattle but, that year, for some reason, he had decided to raise a small herd of sheep. I loved all the farm animals, and I had never seen real sheep before so they fascinated me.
On Christmas Eve, I was anxious for his work to be done -- because when it was, the house would be filled with music. One uncle played the piano, another uncle played the guitar, my grandfather played the fiddle and my mother sang (rather badly). The drudgery of work would be gone and the dancing would begin.
So I waited at the window, watching for him. The ground has covered with deep snow that had fallen the night before. And it was starting to snow again. Finally, in the distance, I saw him walking home. He was carrying something in his arms under his coat but I couldn’t see what it could be.
When he got inside the farmhouse, I asked him what was under his coat. He said, "It’s your Christmas present." My mother – who was also generally fearful of him – looked as if she couldn’t believe what she had heard: A gift? From him? To her daughter? She could not quite comprehend it.
Grandpa told me to come over near the fire and he would give me the gift. There, he pulled back his coat and inside, sleeping, was a newborn baby lamb. I was awestruck by how sweet it looked, snuggling so closely to Grandpa. The rest of the family was dumbstruck by this sudden act of warmth and kindness from a man they perceived as so distant and cold.
I’ve now lived more Christmases than I care to admit. Thinking back, it’s never the extravagant gifts that I remember. But, I can never forget that little lamb my Grandpa brought to me that year.
How many kids get one of those?
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For tonight’s hymn I’ve chosen What Wondrous Love Is This. I love it although I don’t actually participate in singing at church. I just read the verses and lip-synch so I won't appear rude. I am of a Christian faith so this song is a Christian hymn. I hope any Brothers or Sisters who are non-Christians, agnostics or atheists do not feel excluded or offended. If you do object, please volunteer to lead Brothers & Sisters and write a diary on any available Sunday. Then you can select any godless heavy metal you choose. :-)