Perhaps the thing I’m most grateful for this holiday season is the opportunity to hit the reset button.
I have cried more in the past six weeks than I have in years. My family had reached the point of the pandemic that had given us all a debilitating case of the “I don’t care” bug. The symptoms were visible for a while but went ignored. It started with a lack of attention to a responsibility here and there until, eventually, everything was behind, everyone was failing, and everyone was mad all the time. It’s wild, but all I could think about was Christmas break and these 11 days of owing nothing to anyone.
Around Thanksgiving, some things happened that made me feel as if my world was spinning out of control, and I am used to being in control and was discouraged. But then something happened that caused a shift to start taking place. I received a message from an acquaintance asking if we could talk. Assuming it was work related, I was surprised when she began to tell her story about struggling financially. So many things that she said elicited replies like “Yes!” “That’s right!” and “Trust me, I get it.”
She talked about how there wasn’t always money for the extra things, and I thought it was an odd conversation to randomly have but agreed with every single thing she said. She told me that things had turned around for her family to such an extent that they wanted to bless someone, and that someone was me.
The Christmas Cookie
Accepting help has always been a struggle for me because I want to be self-reliant and independent, not to mention that I could have given her a long list of folks who needed help a lot more than I did, but her offer and conversation were so genuine and heartfelt that I agreed. She told me several times that she wanted my family to have fun because her family would love doing it. She spoke of meals and memories and knowing the sacrifices families make because they have to concern themselves with the necessities. Before too long, I received a message that a grocery delivery was on its way. Not knowing what to expect, I told the kids that we had a Secret Santa when the delivery car pulled in the driveway.
Everyone gathered around the table as the bags were unpacked. Inside were ingredients for baking cookies. There were bags of sugar and flour, icing, and two kinds of packaged cookie dough. There was even a large bag of chocolate kisses in there, which made the girls squeal and my eyes water. She understood that a budget, especially at Christmas, doesn’t justify bags of chocolate kisses because that would mean someone’s gifts were running a little short.
Before it was all said and done, we would receive two more grocery orders that were met with “ooh”s and “ahhh”s. There were complete meals that we have never eaten before, such as bacon wrapped filets. There was even a bottle of wine on the list. And then there were the things that touched my heart because I was the only one who knew why they were there; things like a box of tissues (“Mom, there are real tissues in here!”) and a jar candle (“Mom, you’re gonna love the way this smells!”).
Filling the Gaps
Secret Santa added magic to our holiday, and, looking back over the last six weeks, that’s what COVID-19 had stolen from me – the day-to-day magic. I had allowed myself to be beaten up by all the things that I was struggling with and, instead of telling the world to back up off me, I laid down and let (co)Rona kick the crap out of me.
This week, we gathered together in the kitchen, laughing, and made candy and baked cookies. We have eaten “rich people’s food” with all the trimmings. We worked on new traditions, and we felt like a family again rather than sparring partners…all because someone knew how much chocolate kisses, a candle, and a box of tissues could do for a mama on a budget.
There are secret gaps sometimes in people’s lives that aren’t talked about. Things like homemade cookies, chocolate kisses, jar candles, and crockpot liners aren’t necessary, but they sure do make things nice, and the fact that someone used their remembered struggle to bless us with love and magic, well …
I’ll always remember this Christmas because someone saw the invisible gaps and quietly, lovingly, filled them with a box of “real” tissues, at least with the ones that weren’t used to dry my eyes.
May 2021 not leave us with so many gaps, invisible or not, that need to be filled. Happy holidays!
Onward,
Amy Jo
