seasons of Christmas

 

“Soon the child’s clear eye is clouded over by ideas and opinions, preconceptions, and abstractions. Simple free being becomes encrusted with the burdensome armor of the ego. Not until years later does an instinct come that a vital sense of mystery has been withdrawn. The sun glints through the pines and the heart is pierced in a moment of beauty and strange pain, like a memory of paradise. After that day, we become seekers.” 

 

—Peter Muryo Matthiessen, courtesy of Parabola Magazine

I grew up in a poor family, one of six siblings. We never got fancy toys, electronics, or designer clothing, but we were rich in the love that absorbed through every fiber of that Christmas day.  

Forever embedded in my memory is that of Dad's face as he opened up those socks or other articles that we wrapped with such anticipation ... and the thank you of tears that feel from his eyes because his children would go to such lengths to give him gifts that money couldn't buy.  I have to say Mom was not as joyous, as she didn't partake in the bubbly as Dad did, but she had a lot to contend with and always made sure our Christmas was the best she could possibly do. 

It wasn’t until I grew up, became an adult, 

that Christmas seemed to lose all its magic, wonder and glory.  

 For it was as an adult that I began to feel sadness at this time of year.  

The sadness stems from so commercialization and very little to do with the true meaning of Christmas ... perhaps sadness that so many never experience the simple joy of rewrapped love.  

Make yours memorable.