As I bent down to unplug the Christmas tree lights, I hit my head on the wall. It didn't hurt, but it was a good enough excuse to let out the tears that were welling up in my heart. It was Christmas Eve, so long ago.
The family room was filled with the eerie glow from the light over the stove. All I could see on the tree was the red, green and white paper “chain” that the kids had made earlier in the day, while I was at work. Ever the inventive ones, they had fashioned each link of the chain in alternating shades of Christmas cheer and fastened them together with staples. A phone call at work, midday, from a child of mine, proudly informed me that the chain was the length of the house. By the time I got home, it was on the tree.
In the darkness, I looked around the room. It looked so different this Christmas. Not only was the tree out here this year, instead of in the living room, but all the furniture was gone, except for the ugly new couch, sitting forlornly in the middle of the room.
It had been a year of huge changes for me and my kids. My mother died just three months before Christmas, and my husband left a week later. And now, on the Eve of Christmas, he had finally taken his share of the furniture, leaving the family room barren.
A quick trip to the local department store had remedied that: first, my credit was approved; second, I was promised the couch could be delivered the very next day; and third, I picked out the least ugly of the three available couches. Done.
And now that ugly couch shared the family room with the Christmas tree and the only other object in the room: the television. For Christmas, I got my kids cable TV. I couldn't afford it, really, but I wanted them to have something to enjoy through the holidays. And they did. In fact, our Christmas Eve “celebration” was to sit together and watch “Clash of the Titans”.......not my choice, theirs.
As I walked into the kitchen, to turn off the light over the stove, I could still smell the tacos I had prepared for Christmas Eve Dinner. Again, the kids chose. No ham or turkey or beef roast for us; tacos, homemade, with all the fixings......served on my best china, too. Around the table, with candlelight, my kids and me.
Walking through the living room, it looked bare, too. Oh, it had plenty of furniture, but something was missing: the Christmas tree. I always put the tree in the living room. We always opened our presents on Christmas morning....in the living room. Not this year. Everything has changed. The Christmas tree is in the family room, by the television, waiting for the kids and me, tomorrow morning.
As I reached my bedroom door, I stopped. I turned around and headed back towards the front door. That's right, it's my job now: make sure the doors are locked and all the lights are out. I had forgotten. Again.
Finally, climbing into bed after a very long and tiring day, I wondered how I was supposed to survive all the upheaval in my life. A phone call earlier in the evening, from my family, had made me sad. They were all gathered in Oregon, at my brother's house, for the holidays. They were quite concerned about my father, as he spent his first Christmas without my mother in 44 years. He sounded good on the phone. Not happy, but hopeful.
And that is how I was feeling: not happy, but hopeful.
As I drifted off to sleep, I had another thought. What could possibly be worse than losing my mother, my husband, and all the family room furniture, just before Christmas? I had to smile as I realized that, as bad as it was, I was doing it. There were three kids asleep in their rooms, perhaps with visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads. And in the morning, there would be meager presents to open, and more cable TV, and pancakes. Lots of pancakes.
Christmas came early that year. I received the best present I have ever received. Whatever happens, whatever befalls me, however sad and lonely I may think I am.....I can do it. I can make something out of nothing, and find cheer in the bleakest of times. There is always something good in everything that happens. Even in losing my mother and my husband....there was good.
I found my own strength....
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