When All Is Not Merry And Bright

There are moments when all is not calm and bright at Christmas with me. There is no Silent Night. No heavenly peace. While angels may  hover about, they are invisible and soundless. " Glory to God in the Highest" are words that are foreign to my tongue. So is the "comfort and joy" of the season.

These are the occasions when the ghosts of Christmases past haunt my consciousness. Thankfully-due to the settling in of age or effective therapy ( maybe both)-they occupy less space in my head now than they have in years past...but they are still there, ready to jump out at opportune moments of idleness or weakness. Most of them are 50 years or so old but they still sadden and wound. Angry words and derogatory phrases still echo briefly from the past like random puffs of air. They pick at old scabs and bring blood to the surface. I doubt they will ever fully go away, and so I take them as a synergistic contribution to who I am as a whole. To forget and deny their existence is to dishonor the integration and growth of who I have become so many years later. It has taken literally years of discernment and examination to arrive at a place where I am comfortable with myself. And still, there are those brief flashes that disturb and rupture my contentment.

I am constantly recovering from the old wounds and perceived slights of the past. It's not that I wallow in self pity; I have chosen instead to recognize their damage and move it into a healthier perspective. Personal growth is hard work. Much of it is far from pleasurable. But I am just stubborn enough to look the bad stuff in the eye and tell it that it holds considerably less currency with me than it used to. Nowadays I defiantly reject what it whispers in my ear in the wee hours of the long night.

The best thing I can say about my past is that I survived it.

I have reclaimed the Christmas holiday for me. I have combined the myths and beloved stories into something that speaks to my spirituality and growth. Things are no longer writ in stone: they morph and change to fit my expanding understanding of what it is to be human. The Nativity stories of the many gods born at this time of year have been transcended year by year into the story of my own nativity- not as being reborn so much as honoring the place where I originate.

Scrolling through Facebook, I came upon these lovely thoughts by Mary Ann Perrone. Reading it was a 'yes' moment for me because it confirms how I feel about things at this point in my life.

Christmas at Midlife

I am no longer waiting for a special occasion; I burn the best candles on ordinary days.

I am no longer waiting for the house to be clean; I fill it with people who understand that even dust is Sacred.

I am no longer waiting for everyone to understand me; It’s just not their task
I am no longer waiting for the perfect children; my children have their own names that burn as brightly as any star.

I am no longer waiting for the other shoe to drop; It already did, and I survived.

I am no longer waiting for the time to be right; the time is always now.

I am no longer waiting for the mate who will complete me; I am grateful to be so warmly, tenderly held.

I am no longer waiting for a quiet moment; my heart can be stilled whenever it is called.

I am no longer waiting for the world to be at peace; I unclench my grasp and breathe peace in and out.

I am no longer waiting to do something great; being awake to carry my grain of sand is enough.

I am no longer waiting to be recognized; I know that I dance in a holy circle.

I am no longer waiting for Forgiveness. I believe, I Believe.