Christmas Miracles

Sankt Nikolaus came early the evening of December 5th at my house. My day had been extra long at work and to top it off, another client had called with an “emergency” that needed attention before I could call it a day. I was working hard to mitigate my exhausted frustrated mood when I opened the door and saw dinner sitting on the candlelit table. My girls, pink cheeked with excitement danced around me as I put down my bag and peeled off my coat.

“Come on mom, we want to show you something!”

I sighed, thinking about how messy the kitchen probably was. But the thought was completely lost as I rounded the corner into the living room and there, standing tall and beautiful in the corner was the Christmas tree, dimly lit and fully decorated. It felt like a Christmas miracle.

“The other strand of lights burnt out when we were trying to hang them,” said Kate a little apologetically. I didn’t care, I nearly wept with joy and hugged my girls close the rest of the night, promising to get a new strand soon so the tree would look more alive.

Unfortunately, the tree stayed dimly lit as we sprinted from event to event to school and work, to choir practice and a 5k (our second of the year), to philharmonic concerts and the ballet, to dances and gift shopping. Slowly the joy I felt began to turn to guilt.

When was the last time my daughters experienced the truly breathtaking, dizzying joy of twinkling lights in the darkness and a higher percentage of waltzes on the stereo (it’s truly amazing how many Christmas waltzes there are!)? It’s why I’ve always thought this time of year was the most romantic.

When was the last time I’d built up the Christmas anticipation that makes the heart beat fast and the pulse race? Or sang raucous Christmas songs while driving down darkening roads looking at inflated decorations?

Had I become a scrooge? In the rush of living, had I left something behind? Or had I somehow lost my Christmas spirit? Or perhaps just romance.

It’s true, I no longer felt the urge to snuggle with a someone—or a cup of tea—and watch Rosemary Clooney fall in and out of love with Bing Crosby. I no longer warmed when Judy Garland breathlessly crooned “Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas,” or Karen Carpenter sang “Merry Christmas, Darling.” And I no longer longed to waltz with someone intelligent, compassionate, and well-behaved (not to mention employed without any mental illnesses).

Instead, I felt compelled to stay busy building a new 10-year business plan, scheduling client meetings and spending what remaining free time I had walking all over my beloved city, my neighborhood and all the surrounding woods with Theo Barnes n Noble.

In fact, the more I thought about it, the more I realized I worked a significant part of my waking hours. But I didn’t think it was a problem until I found myself creating math logic and pie charts to figure out how much time I was spending on each of my four life forces: body, mind, spirit and heart. Suffice it to say, it was overwhelmingly “mind” oriented with a fair dash of “body” thrown in thanks to Theo and dance.

Then another miracle occurred. I had a no-kids weekend without ANY commitments. How could that be, smack-dab in the middle of December? Wait! don’t question it, just embrace.

I stopped off at several stores on my way home Friday night and picked up a little bit of this and a little bit of that, determined to weave some Christmas magic at the house before my daughters returned on Sunday.

Then, silently, I slipped into solitude and soaked in it for days.

I reconnected with my oven, my laundry line, my yard, my house, my home. It felt wonderful. The more I connected with my haven, the more I felt myself starting to relax. I started humming along. And soon, I was belting out “Beautiful City” with the New Christy Minstrels while wishing I had a tambourine so I could play along.

I printed out photos of our Thanksgiving trip to New York City last year and replaced the photos in the collage frames hanging on my wall. I hung fake icicles and more ornaments and garland. I put up a real tree on the porch and decorated it with handmade yarn ornaments and strung popcorn and cranberries. Then, I turned out all the main lights and squinted at the twinkle lights around me.

Yes, it looked like heaven.

“If I had my way this Christmas. If all I would wish could be. Of all the great wishes in a wonderful world, I’d only ask for three…”

There it was, one of the most beautiful Christmas waltzes. And suddenly, I longed to share it with someone kind, upstanding and cultured. I hoped that meant my daughters would approve the touches I added to their Christmas miracle so it would be miraculous for them too.

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