Alot of those somewhat sappy new year's e-mails have been flooding my inbox lately. You know the ones I mean- about how the new year is going to be one filled with all kinds of blessings and good things- health, wealth, happiness, friends- and have pretty pictures of floating angels and sappy music playing in the background. Those syrupy sweet e-mails, which put you in mind of an ex-Hallmark writer on steroids- that try and tell you that everything is going to be kittens and ladybugs and smiley sunshines. Barf.
But getting off my high horse, I'm not poking fun at the people who send them, and the intent behind the forwards are sweet. It's just that it's such a one dimensional view of reality, I can't help but be irritated. Life isn't all sunshine and roses. And the new year isn't going to be filled with all good things, no matter how many e-mails we get that say so. The fact is, sometimes life just isn't fair. It's hard, it's easy. It's sad, it's joyful. It's fury and rage, and jokes and laughter. It's loss and it's gain. Fighting and making up. Losing and winning. Jobs lost and promotions given. I wish someone would come up with an e-mail forward that says all that. I guess no one wants to hear about the bad stuff----- but somehow in light of this past year, pretty pictures and sugary songs can't mask the hollowness of the words empty promises.
Maybe I'm too cynical for my own good. Cynical, negative- realistic. Whatever you want to call it. I'd rather face facts than hide behind pollyanna promises.
As much as I can't wait to say good riddance to 2008, part of me doesn't really want to let go. It just hurts to think of starting a year without Emily. I know that sounds ridiculous, but it's yet another one of those "firsts". 2008 royally stank, but facing 2009 without her just seems so empty.
But from the bottom of my cynical heart, I do wish you all a Happy New Year. And as the last few minutes of 2008 wind down, I do pray for all those things for all of you- health, wealth, happiness, kittens and ladybugs. But even more, I wish for all of you- life. In all it's beauty and it's ugliness. Strength in the hard times, rejoicing in the happy times. Comfort in the sad times, laughter in the good times. And celebration for each new milestone this year brings. And above all, courage to make it through another year. May 2009 be a better year than 2008.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Tinsel and lights, and Silent Nights
"How was your Christmas?"
How do I answer that? No let me rephrase that--- I don't know how people want me to answer that. Do they want to know the truth? Or do they want to hear me put a happy face on it? I'm in a bit of a quandry... I've been on a truth kick lately. But no one wants to be thought of as a Scrooge at Christmas, and no one really wants to hear that your Christmas wasn't all jingle bells and twinkling lights. It makes them feel bad, and it makes me feel worse for making them feel bad. So instead of lying through my teeth, I've settled for the non-committal half shrug that is becoming all too familiar. The "things-really-aren't-okay-but-we-both-know-you-don't-want-to-hear-me-say-it,-so-I'll-say-nothing,-and-you-feel-like-a-better-person-for-asking-and-I-don't-come-across-as-a-mopey-jerk-for-actually-saying-what-we-both-really-know-is-the-truth" shrug. People amuse me, seriously they do. Why do we spend so much time pretending?! If you don't want to know, I'd really just rather you spare us both the effort and don't ask, simply because you feel some sort of obligation.
Temper tantrum over. And of course, I'm not talking about everyone. There are a few of my friends who have asked, who I know genuinely want to know, who I don't have to pretend with, and who won't judge me for not putting on a brave, happy face.
So how was Christmas? After all that-- I don't even know how I want to answer that. It was both good and bad. I'd be lying (which I'm not doing anymore) if I said that I wasn't excited about my new 16-gallon fish aquarium, or my Flyers jersey, or the other cool things that were waiting for me under the tree. But there was still an emptiness that couldn't be ignored. In some ways, Christmas afternoon didn't feel like Christmas at all. It was like... well, any other day. Aside from the fact that there were a whole lot of really cool presents that morning. Maybe that was a coping method- maybe it was easier to deal with if I tried not to think too hard that it was Christmas. I'm not sure. It's very hard to try and put the feeling into words. Maybe it's because there aren't any.
Honestly, for me this year, Christmas Eve was the saving grace. Sitting in that sanctuary listening to Silent Night being sung by candlelight, that's when I most felt like it was Christmas. Christmas Eve I didn't have to pretend it was anything but what it was. It wasn't about me, it wasn't about Emily, it wasn't about family, or friends, or anything other than the real meaning of Christmas. For those five minutes, I felt at peace. It's where my thoughts drifted back to all throughout the day on Christmas. It's a familiar carol, and as sometimes is the case with familiar carols, you often don't really pay attention to the words. But it makes me think- that night wasn't exactly all twinking lights and tinsel either. It was a scared young mother, and an equally terrified father. It was frightened shepherds and probably nervous animals. But in the midst of confusion and fright and uncertainty, God sends His Son to earth. And I can just imagine that after He was born, in the midst of all that confusion and fright and uncertainty, there was peace. And after the angels appeared, in the midst of the shepherds fright and confusion and uncertainty, there was peace and reassurance. And in the midst of my own confusion and uncertainty, there were those few moments of peace and comfort. In the form of a reminder from a song, and in the grasp of a friend's hand.
So that was my Christmas. It wasn't the Christmases I've been used to for the last 25 years. And it wasn't even the nightmare I was imagining it to be. Instead it was a reminder of all that it ought to be. I look at Emily's little paper on the fridge in a whole new light- "Jesus is the Reason for the Season". Merry Christmas Em- I miss you.
Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
'Round yon virgin mother and Child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace
Silent night, holy night,
Shepherds quake at the sight.
Glories stream from heaven afar,
Heav'nly hosts sing Alleluia;
Christ the Saviour is born
Christ the Saviour is born
Silent night, holy night,
Son of God, love's pure light.
Radiant beams from Thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord at Thy birth
How do I answer that? No let me rephrase that--- I don't know how people want me to answer that. Do they want to know the truth? Or do they want to hear me put a happy face on it? I'm in a bit of a quandry... I've been on a truth kick lately. But no one wants to be thought of as a Scrooge at Christmas, and no one really wants to hear that your Christmas wasn't all jingle bells and twinkling lights. It makes them feel bad, and it makes me feel worse for making them feel bad. So instead of lying through my teeth, I've settled for the non-committal half shrug that is becoming all too familiar. The "things-really-aren't-okay-but-we-both-know-you-don't-want-to-hear-me-say-it,-so-I'll-say-nothing,-and-you-feel-like-a-better-person-for-asking-and-I-don't-come-across-as-a-mopey-jerk-for-actually-saying-what-we-both-really-know-is-the-truth" shrug. People amuse me, seriously they do. Why do we spend so much time pretending?! If you don't want to know, I'd really just rather you spare us both the effort and don't ask, simply because you feel some sort of obligation.
Temper tantrum over. And of course, I'm not talking about everyone. There are a few of my friends who have asked, who I know genuinely want to know, who I don't have to pretend with, and who won't judge me for not putting on a brave, happy face.
So how was Christmas? After all that-- I don't even know how I want to answer that. It was both good and bad. I'd be lying (which I'm not doing anymore) if I said that I wasn't excited about my new 16-gallon fish aquarium, or my Flyers jersey, or the other cool things that were waiting for me under the tree. But there was still an emptiness that couldn't be ignored. In some ways, Christmas afternoon didn't feel like Christmas at all. It was like... well, any other day. Aside from the fact that there were a whole lot of really cool presents that morning. Maybe that was a coping method- maybe it was easier to deal with if I tried not to think too hard that it was Christmas. I'm not sure. It's very hard to try and put the feeling into words. Maybe it's because there aren't any.
Honestly, for me this year, Christmas Eve was the saving grace. Sitting in that sanctuary listening to Silent Night being sung by candlelight, that's when I most felt like it was Christmas. Christmas Eve I didn't have to pretend it was anything but what it was. It wasn't about me, it wasn't about Emily, it wasn't about family, or friends, or anything other than the real meaning of Christmas. For those five minutes, I felt at peace. It's where my thoughts drifted back to all throughout the day on Christmas. It's a familiar carol, and as sometimes is the case with familiar carols, you often don't really pay attention to the words. But it makes me think- that night wasn't exactly all twinking lights and tinsel either. It was a scared young mother, and an equally terrified father. It was frightened shepherds and probably nervous animals. But in the midst of confusion and fright and uncertainty, God sends His Son to earth. And I can just imagine that after He was born, in the midst of all that confusion and fright and uncertainty, there was peace. And after the angels appeared, in the midst of the shepherds fright and confusion and uncertainty, there was peace and reassurance. And in the midst of my own confusion and uncertainty, there were those few moments of peace and comfort. In the form of a reminder from a song, and in the grasp of a friend's hand.
So that was my Christmas. It wasn't the Christmases I've been used to for the last 25 years. And it wasn't even the nightmare I was imagining it to be. Instead it was a reminder of all that it ought to be. I look at Emily's little paper on the fridge in a whole new light- "Jesus is the Reason for the Season". Merry Christmas Em- I miss you.
Silent night, holy night
All is calm, all is bright
'Round yon virgin mother and Child
Holy infant so tender and mild
Sleep in heavenly peace
Sleep in heavenly peace
Silent night, holy night,
Shepherds quake at the sight.
Glories stream from heaven afar,
Heav'nly hosts sing Alleluia;
Christ the Saviour is born
Christ the Saviour is born
Silent night, holy night,
Son of God, love's pure light.
Radiant beams from Thy holy face,
With the dawn of redeeming grace,
Jesus, Lord at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord at Thy birth
Saturday, December 20, 2008
Another Piece
Emily's stupid hamster is sick. Or maybe it's just old age. Whatever it is, the little thing is not looking good. I feel bad- I don't like the thing. It's noisy. I swear it waits to start chewing on the cage until I sit down to watch my favorite show on TV. It smells, and it's not a very friendly hamster at that. And, I resented getting stuck with it because Emily decided to be a baby. When I got my dog two summers ago, Em threw a temper tantrum because I was getting a pet and she wasn't. So she ended up with a hamster. That she swore she would take to her townhouse in Shippensburg. Well once she realized that they actually require some effort to take care of, all of a sudden there was a convienent "no pets" allowed rule at the townhouse. Even though her one housemate had a pet iguana. But we still got stuck with it. And on top of it all, she gave it a really stupid name. I mean seriously, who names a hamster Cleopatra?
*Sigh* Emily, that's who.
She always marched to her own drum with everything else, why should a hamster name be any different.
Now don't get me wrong. I love animals. And she is a cute little thing--- but I still don't like it. And as irrational as it may sound, I think the main reason I dislike the thing is because it outlived my sister. Emily's gone, but that dumb little hamster is still here. But I don't want the thing dead, and I really hate seeing it look so sad and miserable. And it's losing a connection to Emily. It's another one of those little pieces that's going to be lost.
*Sigh* Emily, that's who.
She always marched to her own drum with everything else, why should a hamster name be any different.
Now don't get me wrong. I love animals. And she is a cute little thing--- but I still don't like it. And as irrational as it may sound, I think the main reason I dislike the thing is because it outlived my sister. Emily's gone, but that dumb little hamster is still here. But I don't want the thing dead, and I really hate seeing it look so sad and miserable. And it's losing a connection to Emily. It's another one of those little pieces that's going to be lost.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Just put some tinsel on it
So it seems that the powers that be didn't read my last blog about putting Christmas on hold until it stops hurting.
Christmas is bothering me more than I thought it would. I guess it's not a good sign when I'm too bummed to want to annoy my co-workers. As much as I used to love Christmas, as much as I loved lights and all that--- putting them up at work was more just to annoy my co-workers. I've won the award the last three years for most decorated cubicle. And I just haven't been able to bring myself to put them up here. A few people have asked where they are. I don't have the energy to make the extra effort to pretend that this Christmas is going to be okay. Let someone else put up lights in their office. This year, I just don't care.
A friend of mine that I work with came over a couple weeks ago and was asking me what Emily's full name was, how to spell it, and the dates. She wouldn't tell me why she needed to know all that. And anyone who knows me knows how much I hate that. It's not that I don't like surprises---- I don't like to be teased with it. If you don't want me to know yet--- don't bring it up.
Well anyway, she came over yesterday and had something in her hands. I'm telling myself, "be nice, be nice, be nice. Her heart is in the right place. Be nice, be nice, be nice. Maybe it's not as bad as you think it is." So she gives me this box. I asked if it was going to make me cry, and she said "probably". Crap. It was going to be as bad as I was thinking it was going to be. I said maybe I'll open it later, and of course, no--- she wants me to open it right there with her watching. Because everyone who knows me knows how much I love to cry in front of people. Grrrr. So I open the box, and pull out something soft and velvety. It was a "Christmas Memory Stocking"-- the top says "In the Spirit and Memory of Emily Ruth Norman" and has the dates. It was very thoughtful of her, and I know her heart was in the right place..... but I hate it. I feel like a terrible person, but I can't help it. I hate it. It was all I could do to try and not let it show, because I didn't want to hurt her feelings for anything. I hope she couldn't tell, because apparantely I am not so good at hiding my emotions. I don't know why the stocking bothers me so much, but it does. And it came with this syrupy-sweet card about how you're supposed to get people to write their memories of the person and put them in the stocking, and on Christmas Day you're supposed to read them so that your loved one isn't forgotten. Like I really need a stocking to remember her. I shouldn't be so ungrateful. And I'm trying my hardest- but every time I look at it, I have to fight the urge to take a pair of scissors to it. Maybe I'm not really angry about the stocking- maybe I'm just angry, and the stocking gives me something to be angry at. And then she was just sitting there kind of looking at me expectantly, like she was waiting for something. And I realized I wasn't crying--- I think that's what she was waiting for. Why is it that people just aren't happy until they've made you cry?! Like there's something wrong with not falling apart all the time. Unless there is something wrong with that. Maybe they're right and I really do have a heart of stone. A normal person certainly wouldn't be acting like this. A normal person would probably have loved that stupid stocking. Or could at least appreciate the sentiment. I on the otherhand, keep thinking that if she really knew me she'd have known that this was just about the worst thing ever. I think there's something wrong with me.
I just want Christmas to be over. I didn't think I'd react this way, I really didn't. Thanksgiving wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. But then again, it seems that I have the emotional status of a rock. But I didn't think it would be this hard, or that I would be this angry about everything.
I still mean the stuff I wrote before. I still believe in the meaning of Christmas. I'm still looking forward to Christmas Eve at church, and even Christmas Day itself. Music has always been the one thing that makes me feel better, and I've been playing Christmas music since the day after Thanksgiving. It's the other stuff that I can't seem to deal with. It's the bright lights that do nothing more than remind me how dark my life seems right now. It's that dumb macaroni wreath Emily made when she was a kid that she always complained about mom putting up. But it was the first thing she looked for when she walked in the door. It's the ornaments on the tree that used to mean something, but now just seem to be mocking me. I must confess that when I decorated the tree, I always put most of her Mary's Angel and her Godchild ornaments in the back. I put a few in the front, just so it wasn't obvious, but most went in the back. It was childish and stupid, but it made me feel better. This year all I felt was guilt. I put the Mary's Angels in the front this time. Too little, too late-- it didn't help.
There was an article in the local newspaper about a Lutheran Church that had a "Blue Christmas" Sunday service. Basically it is exactly what it sounds like- a service for people who have lost someone, or even something. (I wonder if they played that awful Elvis song?!) At first I thought it was stupid, but the more I think about it, the concept kind of makes sense. Christmas seems to take over from October through December, and you can't escape it. Lights and songs and tacky inflatable lawn ornaments are everywhere. It's almost as if you just put enough lights on it, bury it under some tinsel and ribbons, you can cover the sadness. Pretend it doesn't exist. No one wants to hear that you're not in the Christmas spirit. (Unless you're my friend who seems to have made it her mission to try and find something to make me cry.) So maybe there's something to that church service. That it's okay to celebrate Christmas for what it is, and yet still acknowledge that not everything has to be lit up, blown up, or covered up with boughs of holly. That it's okay to not pretend that a little tinsel will make it all okay.
Maybe next year will be better.
Christmas is bothering me more than I thought it would. I guess it's not a good sign when I'm too bummed to want to annoy my co-workers. As much as I used to love Christmas, as much as I loved lights and all that--- putting them up at work was more just to annoy my co-workers. I've won the award the last three years for most decorated cubicle. And I just haven't been able to bring myself to put them up here. A few people have asked where they are. I don't have the energy to make the extra effort to pretend that this Christmas is going to be okay. Let someone else put up lights in their office. This year, I just don't care.
A friend of mine that I work with came over a couple weeks ago and was asking me what Emily's full name was, how to spell it, and the dates. She wouldn't tell me why she needed to know all that. And anyone who knows me knows how much I hate that. It's not that I don't like surprises---- I don't like to be teased with it. If you don't want me to know yet--- don't bring it up.
Well anyway, she came over yesterday and had something in her hands. I'm telling myself, "be nice, be nice, be nice. Her heart is in the right place. Be nice, be nice, be nice. Maybe it's not as bad as you think it is." So she gives me this box. I asked if it was going to make me cry, and she said "probably". Crap. It was going to be as bad as I was thinking it was going to be. I said maybe I'll open it later, and of course, no--- she wants me to open it right there with her watching. Because everyone who knows me knows how much I love to cry in front of people. Grrrr. So I open the box, and pull out something soft and velvety. It was a "Christmas Memory Stocking"-- the top says "In the Spirit and Memory of Emily Ruth Norman" and has the dates. It was very thoughtful of her, and I know her heart was in the right place..... but I hate it. I feel like a terrible person, but I can't help it. I hate it. It was all I could do to try and not let it show, because I didn't want to hurt her feelings for anything. I hope she couldn't tell, because apparantely I am not so good at hiding my emotions. I don't know why the stocking bothers me so much, but it does. And it came with this syrupy-sweet card about how you're supposed to get people to write their memories of the person and put them in the stocking, and on Christmas Day you're supposed to read them so that your loved one isn't forgotten. Like I really need a stocking to remember her. I shouldn't be so ungrateful. And I'm trying my hardest- but every time I look at it, I have to fight the urge to take a pair of scissors to it. Maybe I'm not really angry about the stocking- maybe I'm just angry, and the stocking gives me something to be angry at. And then she was just sitting there kind of looking at me expectantly, like she was waiting for something. And I realized I wasn't crying--- I think that's what she was waiting for. Why is it that people just aren't happy until they've made you cry?! Like there's something wrong with not falling apart all the time. Unless there is something wrong with that. Maybe they're right and I really do have a heart of stone. A normal person certainly wouldn't be acting like this. A normal person would probably have loved that stupid stocking. Or could at least appreciate the sentiment. I on the otherhand, keep thinking that if she really knew me she'd have known that this was just about the worst thing ever. I think there's something wrong with me.
I just want Christmas to be over. I didn't think I'd react this way, I really didn't. Thanksgiving wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be. But then again, it seems that I have the emotional status of a rock. But I didn't think it would be this hard, or that I would be this angry about everything.
I still mean the stuff I wrote before. I still believe in the meaning of Christmas. I'm still looking forward to Christmas Eve at church, and even Christmas Day itself. Music has always been the one thing that makes me feel better, and I've been playing Christmas music since the day after Thanksgiving. It's the other stuff that I can't seem to deal with. It's the bright lights that do nothing more than remind me how dark my life seems right now. It's that dumb macaroni wreath Emily made when she was a kid that she always complained about mom putting up. But it was the first thing she looked for when she walked in the door. It's the ornaments on the tree that used to mean something, but now just seem to be mocking me. I must confess that when I decorated the tree, I always put most of her Mary's Angel and her Godchild ornaments in the back. I put a few in the front, just so it wasn't obvious, but most went in the back. It was childish and stupid, but it made me feel better. This year all I felt was guilt. I put the Mary's Angels in the front this time. Too little, too late-- it didn't help.
There was an article in the local newspaper about a Lutheran Church that had a "Blue Christmas" Sunday service. Basically it is exactly what it sounds like- a service for people who have lost someone, or even something. (I wonder if they played that awful Elvis song?!) At first I thought it was stupid, but the more I think about it, the concept kind of makes sense. Christmas seems to take over from October through December, and you can't escape it. Lights and songs and tacky inflatable lawn ornaments are everywhere. It's almost as if you just put enough lights on it, bury it under some tinsel and ribbons, you can cover the sadness. Pretend it doesn't exist. No one wants to hear that you're not in the Christmas spirit. (Unless you're my friend who seems to have made it her mission to try and find something to make me cry.) So maybe there's something to that church service. That it's okay to celebrate Christmas for what it is, and yet still acknowledge that not everything has to be lit up, blown up, or covered up with boughs of holly. That it's okay to not pretend that a little tinsel will make it all okay.
Maybe next year will be better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)