Joy

I promised myself I would stand outside the commerce and crush and simply light candles and breathe in and out and feel god and not broke, and feel love and not panic, and feel peace and not loneliness. I promised I would get the Christmas cards written this year, and make snickerdoodles and mint crinkles or some other adorable sounding cookie. I promised I would do art, and not Target, that I would faithfully water the tree, that I would slow down and find time to play with Gilligan.

And here I am, 2 days before Christmas, a small pile of presents wrapped and a clenching in my heart that worries it’s not enough. And already worries about January’s rent.

I am also staring at a stack of four boxes of unwritten Christmas cards, all with different designs but all with the word JOY on them. Four years, four boxes, 80 ignored loved ones, clients and colleagues. Apparently, every year I buy a box, forgetting who I am, and then repack the box with the Christmas stuff. And apparently, I’m in constant search of JOY.

As for the tree, I’ve watered it once. As for cookies, it’s adorable how many I’ve eaten.

As for loneliness, yes.

But also candles, and love, and peace, and art, and Gilligan, and my two grown and spectacular children. And such a deep sense of gratefulness. I am overwhelmed by the gifts of my life, and the love and sacrifice of those who have been there for me in hard times.

So I turn my thoughts from all the promises broken, to those who are grieving and without. I unpack my joy, and in your honor, I repack it for another day. For now, I stand with you in holy silence, and send to you my love.

Merry Christmas, everyone. And please, be there for those who are without.