Musings About a Norman Rockwell Christmas....

It's raining quite hard here this afternoon. The house is warm and cozy; the Christmas trees add a festive glow to the living room and family room. It's beginning to feel like Christmas to me.

There's a lot I want to do before Christmas, and I know I won't be able to get it all done. Like a kid at a smorgasbord, I always fill my plate too full. And I like it that way.

I love the holidays and the coming together with family and friends. I don't think it's a coincidence that the happiest celebrations occur in the dead of winter. Crops are harvested and the land isn't accepting new seeds yet. It's a picker-upper in the hardest season of the year.

It's not without its sadness, either. This is the season of the year when I miss my parents the most. All my Christmas memories contain moments with my parents. I still decorate my house--her house--and hope my mother will like it. I still miss making Daddy's favorite walnut and date treats, just for him.

I hear a lot about the economy these days. Overheard sentences, in the mall, begin with “Since the economy is so bad....” and I feel badly for those people. Not because they can't buy the biggest, best gifts but because that makes them feel bad.

The holidays are not about gifts. True, December sales support merchants throughout the year, or they used to, but that's not the point, either. If you think about it, where would the economy of your town be if the merchants didn't have good sales?

Would they stay open? Or would friends and neighbors of yours who are employed directly or indirectly in retail still have jobs? Would you still have a job? See? It is a valid concern. At least, if you are affected by the outcome.

But that's not the point, either.

I used to dislike Norman Rockwell for his unrealistic portrayals of holiday scenes. No one has everybody around the holiday table anymore. Or so it seems. And then I realized what his pictures are about: they are about expectations. Soldiers off fighting wars, imagining holiday celebrations back home. Those pictures were the epitome of dreams. And expectations for another time and place.

I have expectations of myself, too. Expectations that I will accomplish certain tasks by a certain time. I will bake and cook and sew and wrap presents and everything else I have thought of to do. I will be able to provide an appropriate ambiance in my home for all the children and grandchildren. Therefore, Christmas will be a certain, wonderful way..... And what if I don't meet my own expectations?

And that, my friends, is the point: do I have to live up to my own expectations? No. Do I need to lower my expectations? No. What do I do? Live. Just live. Get up each morning and do what I can do in that day.

Rest when I need to. Eat when I'm hungry. Sleep when I'm tired. Work when I have to. And find some way to appreciate all the things I do. And all the people I am. And all the good things in my life.

And the rest will just happen....