We are living in strange times. Therefore it
makes sense that this holiday season has to
be different. In many ways Christmas may
be a non-event this year. In all probability
due all of us being anti-social. Or the harsh
reality that shipping delays may leave some
sans gifts. Obviously many will still gather
against expert advice. Yet one can't help but
wonder if deep down... they worry if they're
playing Santa roulette with the Coronavirus.
Tis the season of angst, uncertainty, mixed
with a dash of regret. Causing everybody to
eagerly await the end of twenty twenty.
No matter how or who you laud - the rituals
of seasonal celebrations are rooted deeply in
tradition. Everyone having fond memories of
said events. Strong enough that a pandemic
can/'t erase. Since the dawn of mankind our
resolve has periodically been tested. Thus it
seems that ultimately deferred gratification
fuels a period of self indulgence post wars,
pestilence, or economic crisis. So it's safe
to assume that ultimately, things will return
to normal with a vengeance. Soon all of this
will be forgotten. And everything we have
missed will return with MUCHO GUSTO!
This pandemic has taught us that it's the little
things that count. The other day I unpacked
our family creche. And suddenly there was a
tear in my eye. Not because it's a treasured
holiday tradition since my first Christmas.
Nor it's symbolic representation of God's gift
to humanity. Rather what made my cry was
that it was wrapped in a bag from my Mom's
favorite store. Proof that my Mother still has
a hand in our holiday traditions. Long after
this stilted holiday is over, our memories of
all others will remain. Bringing comfort and
joy even in the darkest of times.
