Ho ho humbug

The last several years, I've found myself growing increasingly glum every December. Some might say "oh you have seasonal affective disorder,” but I don't think that is possible in sunny southern California. I speculated to a friend on Facebook, that seeing as our small children have grown, we don't try as hard to kindle the magic of the season in our homes. We are not pretending that Santa is coming. We don't write notes to him or put plates of cookies out. Perhaps, someday when the grandchildren come along, that will change.  

While I have rejected the church attendance that was required of me as a child, I do miss the magic of the midnight candlelight services and music that ushered in the season. I find myself looking on the internet for local Christmas concerts, to see if that would dispel my ennui.  I doubt the family would go with me. Maybe I could claim I was out buying gifts. Never mind, forget the concert. I'm still avoiding holiday music on the radio.

I'm not as excited about giving gifts. In fact, I haven't purchased ANY yet. Since mom died, I have more money than I ever had in my life, but I'm so terribly anxious about spending it. My husband's employer is about to close their doors any day now and buying stuff that we really don't need seems irresponsible. The job search has been yielding some action, but no offers.

It's supposed to be a time to count your blessings. I've had quite a few this year. Our oldest daughter was married in September and it was a beautiful event with our very special friends and family gathered around. Our youngest has pulled himself out of his academic funk and is earning mostly A's and a B or two. Our house still stands and all the appliances work.  The dog is getting old, but is healthy.  My roses are blooming in December and the chickens are still laying beautiful eggs.  

 Our middle child still struggles – but is blessedly alive and unscathed – despite the fact that she was in a serious car accident Sunday night. I don't know that she realizes how lucky she is or understands that my favorite vehicle – a 16 year old Suburban with only 150K miles – sacrificed itself for her life. It is probably going to be totalled by the insurance company tomorrow. They tried to issue a check to me today - that would just cover body damage, but didn't address the potential damage to the suspension and axle.  It's at a repair shop for further evaluation which I think that is going to be the death knell to my car.  I'm really sad about that.  

I've never thought it was a good idea to become emotionally attached to a vehicle, but damn, we had some great trips in that car. I need it to pull our Airstream. I need it to bring ladders and scaffolds to worksites. We put our canoe on top. I hauled band instruments for the middle school. I need it to pick up our Christmas tree next weekend. I'm gonna miss that car.

Something else to miss? My parents. Despite the fact that I am severely lacking in holiday spirit, I brought the decorations up from the basement. I had a particular item in mind – the nativity set from my childhood. I brought it back from Portland when my mom was dying last Christmas. All the parts were there, including two sheep and three broken leg pieces. That's when I started losing it. My parents both gone, a potential financial crisis, my favorite car smashed up and now three broken legs on two sheep. Could it get any worse? Of course it could. I have two dear friends that have suffered devastating personal losses this fall and my next door neighbor is losing his house to foreclosure. In comparison, I am spectacularly fortunate.

A damaged car and broken sheep don't seem like much to cry over, but cry I did. I retreated out to my workshop to get the superglue and sat there feeling spectacularly sorry for myself. Once done with the pity party, I wiped my eyes on my scarf (it's just saltwater), I wiped my nose on my sleeve (easier to wash) and went back inside to face the family and fix the sheep.

If my life was a sitcom on TV, a series of mishaps would occur, a miracle would be revealed and I would find the true meaning of Christmas basking in the joy of my family. My children would have a new appreciation for how very lucky they are and someone besides me would wash the dishes after dinner.

Life for most of us falls somewhat short of that. So I'll leave you with my Christmas wishes:

1. A new and better job for my husband.
2. Michelle and Marianne find peace and eventually joy and Rick finds a new home.
3. My next car proves to be just as self-sacrificing if called upon.
4. That the superglued sheep hold it together for at least this month.
5. I regain my sense of consumerism and go shopping.  The economy needs the help.