I readily admit that I am a romantic. I believe that Christmas is one of the most beautiful and most romantic times of the year. Lush decorations set the scene, good will flows like water, folks are full of good cheer from the season or seasonal beverages, and it all helps to bring the romance of Christmas to life. Even most of the Scrooges in my life perk up and enjoy the season.
Singing Christmas carols along with the radio, decorating the house, wrapping presents, baking Christmas cookies, and planning holiday dinners help boost my holiday mood. Excavating presents from their hiding places throughout the house heightens the excitement of the season, especially when I can’t remember where I stashed a gift purchased much earlier in the year.
This year, I failed the Christmas spirit. I wasn’t a Scrooge; I wasn’t a joyous Christmas elf. I was in the Christmas doldrums, a place I’ve rarely been.
This Christmas season, we didn’t decorate the house from the top to the bottom and everywhere in between as we usually do. I didn’t bake tons of cookies and other sweet treats to share with family and friends. We had too many losses, too many illnesses, too much sadness to celebrate the way we usually do. Our hearts were sore and sad, in need of more comfort than joy.
This year, Christmas helped heal our wounds and begin to stitch together broken hearts. Rest and medication helped fight colds and the nasty stomach bug that everyone in town seemed to have, including everyone in our immediate family. Seeing family and friends was a soothing balm for our aching hearts and going to church was a welcome salve to our aching souls. Cooking meals to share with family and friends whilst remembering other meals shared with those who have left us brought heartache and smiles. Curling up with a good book became a necessary escape from painful memories of days past instead of a welcome retreat from reality.
It is the little things that help those with broken hearts: a note in a card, a shared memory, a photo of a little one with a cookie smeared face, a gift of cookies left on a doorstep, a small guesture that says, “I know you’re hurting and I’m here for you.” We were blessed with many thoughtful people this year who shared their love and joy with us.
Henry, my husband, commented on the day after Christmas that it was nice to hear me singing again. I hadn’t realized that I was singing along with the radio whilst doing dishes. He smiled and I saw that his heart was healing too.
We have so much to look forward to in the coming new year: birthdays, holidays, vacations, our anniversary, time with friends and family, making new friends, and just being together. Henry swears he’s not a romantic, but cuddling on the couch watching the fire dance in the fireplace on New Year’s Eve after our dinner guests had departed, he brought my hand to his lips. Y’all, if that wasn’t romantic, I don’t what was! After all of these years, the sound of his voice quickens my heart.
Here’s to a new year filled with promise, love, friendship, romance, and blessings.