Another Christmas has been experienced. It came too quickly and seemed to last far too long, accompanied by anxiety, stress, sadness, frustration and even anger. These are not words that one would normally choose to describe Christmas, however every family has it's dragon and unfortunately these words seem to fit, whether one wants it to or not.
As parents of young children, Christmas is full of creating the "magic" of the season and sharing the message of the birth of Christ. The desire to create new traditions and continue ones which were enjoyed and cherished in childhood become important. Each leaving a small imprint on the next generation that is accompanied by a story of grandparents that are no longer present to share in the experience.
As a young parent, a practicing Christian, and with a desire to share our humble home with family and friends I began a new tradition. I loved to bake, and it was inexpensive to do so, so I would fill baskets of bagged cookies trimmed in ribbon around my home. As visitors would come they would leave with a bag of baked goods and tidings of cheer for the holiday season. On Christmas Eve I had open house for all of the neighborhood, friends and family. We would listen to Christmas Carols, play games, eat and share our time with one another. We attended church services and I would master mind Christmas pageants for children and we would share the miracle of the birth of Christ. It was wonderful, full and satisfying. Then life threw us a curve, my mother passed away quickly and quite unexpectedly at the age of 57, I was 31. Four years later found me with my home in foreclosure, going through a divorce, my dad remarried and my life forever altered.
Each year since that time I have attempted to hold on to some semblance of tradition, unsuccessfully. In place of the mother who nurtured, protected and celebrated the season, I have become more and more like a dragon. Fierce to defend, fierce to bellow flames and smoke, and fearful of becoming extinct and leaving only a faded memory of an imprint of what use to be.
My children that knew me as the young mother are grown, 32 and 28 and have definite memories of holidays gone by. They feel the sting of divorce and bitterness and it isn't fair.
How can one try to create warm happy memories and traditions in the midst of fire and smoke, it's not easy.
It's not that attempts to be "mature" have not been tried. I have opened my new home and life to ex's, husband, MIL alike in order to bring peace back into the lives of my family. However, sometimes all of the best intentions can be unsuccessful and then we are left with the struggle of trying to do the best we can with the holidays and everyday after. I am ashamed to say that it has left me angry, frustrated and with a desire to just give up. So how do you slay a dragon?
You cut out it's heart, my children and my grandchildren are my heart. Tell me I have failed to be a good parent, grand parent and you have cut out my heart. I think it was Jackie Kennedy who said that being a parent was the most important job we have and if we "muddle" that up, nothing else much matters. I can understand that, because it has such rippling effects.
Was I a good mother, yes without a doubt, not perfect but better than average. Have I been a good grandmother, yes without a doubt, not perfect, but better than average. Do I love my family, yes without a doubt, not perfectly, but better than average.
In all the flames and billows of smoke what I desire the most is a case of fire extinguishers and a deep pit for the dragon slayer.........hmmmmm!
2 comments:
Don't give up. You are a better person for trying.
It seems we caught quite a bout of the "bah-humbugs" this year. Although, kudos to both of us for not going down without a massive fight. We came out swinging and Christmas was better for it. I think.
Like mother like daughter. ;)
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