I will be the first to admit wholeheartedly that December, despite all of its celebration of light, gives me pause. For a long time, I barreled through the season feeling disconnected and even more so when my child came and each year became a gauntlet of challenging ideas of elves on shelves and a list of so many wants, where my childhood was steeped in so many needs like support and safety, amidst turmoil. Nightmares of being chased around Santa’s sleigh resurface annually and some profoundly dark memories of broken ornaments littering the ground and lights of police cars pulsing in front of my childhood home would bubble up.
Every year since, I wonder if maybe this will be the year that the monster of memories will be at peace, but last night at dinner my son picked a Talking Points card that asked: ‘What is your favorite holiday? What is your least?’ I was the last to share at our table and I offered out that Christmas was my least favorite but the ‘why’ just would not budge from my lips. My heart felt heavy and anxious where others shared easily and freely in the warm glow of after dinner satiation.
I know that I’ve shared a lot about my son lately, but (fingers crossed) we are at this sweet spot where he still loves to snuggle and he is also starting to feel, read and question the deeper complexities of life and people. After I finished reading to him before bedtime I turned off the light and wished him sweet dreams and goodnight. Some quiet moments later, his voice, gently and inquisitively asked: ‘Mom, can you tell me why you don’t like Christmas?’ I hesitated wondering if I should just brush it off but before I knew it, words and memories poured forth (with some selective editing) and were finished with an apology to him for clouding his experience with my own. The funny thing is, as I was bracing for his response, he instead sat up, reached over to embrace me and said, ‘Thank you for telling me. How can we make things better together so that we can enjoy it all together?’ To which I responded, ‘ Let’s be grateful, because I know that I am grateful for you and how much you love me more than anything you could get me.’
In hindsight, I sit grateful for the dark. The dark provided a space for the past and present to meet. It made me think of the Leonard Cohen quote: “There is a crack, a crack in everything/ That’s how the light gets in.” Our moment in the bedtime dark also made me realize that having the difficult conversations and sharing the monsters made those critters seem a little less volatile and that the greatest gift and helper turned up in the form of a 10 year old boy asking about how he could help get my needs met.
As we navigate the remainder of this very full month, we invite you to celebrate and hold space for not only all things bright and beautiful but also for all things dark and to be discovered. We are all made up of dust, stars, puzzle pieces and feelings that ebb and flow. We welcome you always to ride your waves, swells and lulls together with us as we commune in our shared home.
We wish you progress, peace and finding your just right pace in finishing up this year with your wants and needs heard and felt.
With Love,
Sharon & Your Friends at TYC