To Everything, There Is a Season

Holiday Time

December 2024 has a lovely synchronicity this year. Christmas and Hanukkah are at the same time – the eight-day Hanukkah festival of light begins on the 25th. And a few days before on the 21st we have the Winter Solstice when the earth is most inclined away from the sun. I enjoy this shortest day of the year because the next day the light starts coming back again. Kwanzaa is a more recent winter celebration  December 26 through January 1. It is a holiday commemorating African heritage, during which participants gather with family and friends to exchange gifts and light a series of black, red, and green candles. Earlier in the month, Bodhi Day on the 8th, celebrated the historical Buddha. As some of you know, I am interested in all of these different traditions throughout the year.

Speaking of traditions here are a few words that I like to read at this time of year. One of my favouites, by CS Lewis, on family.

Affection by CS Lewis

Affection is the humblest love-it gives itself no airs. It lives with private things: soft slippers, old clothes, old jokes, the thump of a sleepy dog’s tail on the kitchen floor. The glory of affection is that it can unite those who are not “made for each other,” people who, if not put down by fate in the same household or community, would have nothing to do with one another.

Affection broadens our minds: of all natural loves, it teaches us first to notice, then to endure, then to smile at, then to enjoy, and finally to appreciate, the people who ‘happen to be there.’

Made for us? Thank God, no. They are themselves, odder than you could have believed and worth far more than we guessed.”  C S Lewis

This particular excerpt from CS Lewis has always appealed to me. I suppose it represents what I find in my own large, extended and crazy family. A motley crew for whom I have the greatest love and affection and I am also aware that they have affection for me. How lucky is that?

Tolerance

In an era of continual judgment about everyone’s shortcomings, I have come to value the human capacity to tolerate each other’s foibles, blind spots, and just plain old-fashioned mistakes. Along with all the beautiful things we love about each other, the “whole catastrophe” makes up our lives.

It is the same with friends—we will all disappoint each other from time to time. It can’t be helped. Life is not about ensuring that everything is designed perfectly just for me, or you, or the next person. Like death, we all know disappointment will happen. It can not be avoided. We are human beings—perfectly imperfect.

I know that Santa Claus is losing its mystique, but the spirit of Santa Claus is still part of my repertoire. Every Christmas Eve, I read my favourite stories aloud to the family. One of them is about the spirit of Santa Claus, and after all these years, there is never a dry eye. I also like this reflection by GK Chesterton, which I post here most Decembers.

I give you my annual quote from GK Chesterton:

“What has happened to me has been the very reverse of what appears to be the experience of most of my friends. Instead of dwindling to a point, Santa Claus has grown larger and larger in my life until he fills almost the whole of it. It happened in this way.

As a child I was faced with a phenomenon requiring explanation.  I hung up at the end of my bed an empty stocking, which in the morning became a full stocking.  I had done nothing to produce the things that filled it.  I had not worked for them, or made them or helped to make them.  I had not even been good – far from it.

And the explanation was that a certain being whom people called Santa Claus was benevolently disposed toward me. . . .  What we believed was that a certain benevolent agency did give us those toys for nothing. And, as I say, I believe it still.  I have merely extended the idea.

Then I only wondered who put the toys in the stocking; now I wonder who put the stocking by the bed, and the bed in the room, and the room in the house, and the house on the planet, and the great planet in the void.

Once I only thanked Santa Claus for a few dollars and crackers. Now, I thank him for stars and street faces, and wine and the great sea. Once I thought it delightful and astonishing to find a present so big that it only went halfway into the stocking.  Now I am delighted and astonished every morning to find a present so big that it takes two stockings to hold it, and then leaves a great deal outside; it is the large and preposterous present of myself, as to the origin of which I can offer no suggestion except that Santa Claus gave it to me in a fit of peculiarly fantastic goodwill.” 

To Everything, There Is a Season

One of my favourite Christmas stories, To Everything There is a Season, by Alistair MacLeod, takes place on Cape Breton Island, and is part of the readings. Two of the Cherished Letters Peter Gwozki included in his book Morningside Chronicles are also included in the evening’s recitations. (by now we are eating special cookies and imbibing a little Calvados and as cozy as can be with the tree, fireplace, candlelight, family and family friends.)

You have every reason to wonder if my family tolerates my eccentricities like these or if they love them as much as I do. I suspect it is mixed, but so far, no complaints. In fact, they are wonderfully encouraging and accommodating.

Rowan (14) did ask last week if I would be reading the stories they all know. I said yes. He looked at me with a half smile and I didn’t bite the hook.:-)) The truth is, we are always on the lookout for new, beautiful stories, but we have had little luck. If you have one, please pass it on. (Rowan will appreciate it)

And So

For many of us, the holidays are close at hand, and we all arrive with our own traditions of bringing light to the darkness or shaking a stick at the whole idea of it. However we choose to spend this time, may it be with love and joy and yes, sadness, too, for all of our losses. May we say yes to what is meaningful and no to the things that no longer matter to us?

However things are, may you celebrate all that is good in your life and not succumb to the cynicism and despair that gather under a cloud of bleak news. More than ever, find your people, those who light you up, and be that light to others.

Warmest and best wishes to all of you, dear readers, and so many thanks for coming by here.  With heartfelt gratitude, Trudy

Notes

The final word is always for those going through heart-wrenching times. Please take time to care for yourself and reach out for help when you need it. Here is a special poem that speaks to me. I hope this is helpful to you.

Adrift by Mark Nepo

Everything is beautiful and I am so sad.
This is how the heart makes a duet of
wonder and grief. The light spraying
through the lace of the fern is as delicate
as the fibers of memory forming their web
around the knot in my throat. The breeze
makes the birds move from branch to branch
as this ache makes me look for those I’ve lost
in the next room, in the next song, in the laugh
of the next stranger. In the very center, under
it all, what we have that no one can take
away and all that we’ve lost face each other.
It is there that I’m adrift, feeling punctured
by a holiness that exists inside everything.

I am so sad and everything is beautiful.

PS

I recently discovered a new author—or, rather, a new author to me—Niall Williams, and I LOVE his writing. He has written several award-winning books, some with his artist/gardener/writer wife, Christine Breen. The one I am reading now is called In Kiltumper—A Year in an Irish Garden. Some of you may know his book This is Happiness, History of Rain, or his latest book, Time of the Child. I have all of these on hold at the library. Thank you Mary and Janice.