Christmas is for...

 Little kids, first.

These are little first graders from Casey and Riley's school, performing a song at the holiday concert last week. They were led by my friend Tracy, who has been teaching them music in the Music For Minors program. They did an amazingly good job of their three songs, and I was really impressed with them, and with Tracy's teaching. They also kind of broke my heart. They were so enthusiastic, so happy. And of course all of us were thinking of the little first graders from the school in Connecticut who are gone, or the ones still alive, who are traumatized by what happened in their school. Kids are resilient, there's no doubt, but to have something like that happen to your community or your family, even if you didn't even directly witness it, leaves permanent, altering marks on your psyche. The kids left will be different people now than they would have been before this happened. They've lost that innocent joy that these kids you see in this picture still have. And that is a tragedy of a less easily seen nature, and not something that can be given back to them no matter how much therapy or aid they're given.

The Holiday Concert was fun, happy, and bittersweet all at the same time, at least for me. My guys are in sixth grade now and they've grown out of a lot of the spontaneous gestures that the little kids have. They've become much more conscious of what others might think of them and it inhibits them in some ways, while it also makes them say and do really stupid things in vain attempts to be cool. I suppose it's a natural part of growing up, after all we look at adults weirdly if they shriek and jump up and down and do flips all over the furniture. So maybe they do have to learn to be conscious of what others think. But I miss that uninhibited joy. Okay, with my guys the flips over the furniture are still happening, but they're learning to control everything else a little more. And it's a little sad when the Christmas stuff is colored with them not wanting to do some things anymore because they're too silly or babyish now.

Holidays are so hard for many of us; there's so much expectation of happiness, and you're supposed to spend it with family and be loving and perfect and all. And it's never a perfect thing, really; even if you have a great family there's still friction and arguments and over-tired kids who melt down and things like that. If you manage to have a near perfect Christmas with kids, that's a Christmas miracle, really. If you don't have family or you're estranged from what family you have, you're faced with what you don't or can't have. It's hard in so many ways. Holidays bring up all of those things and people we've lost, or never had.

It's hard to go on after losing a loved one. My wise friend Annette told me a while back that holidays were especially hard, and that one had to find ways to make new traditions for holidays, make complete breaks with the old traditions that were Before. And that makes so much sense. But as she said, it takes time. What she didn't dwell upon, but is a great example of, is that it takes a ton of courage, perseverance, and determination to keep going, one small step at a time, to rebuild a life from the ashes of the loss. I wish for all of those parents in Connecticut the strength to go on, and the perseverance to find a pathway through the dark times they're going through now.

The Christmas season has always been a bittersweet time for me, and it can be hard for me to stay 'up' during it. I think with increased age, however, I'm coming to accept that melancholy is a part of the holidays for me; I need time to mourn people and things lost, as well as to savor the goodness in my life. I need a balance where both sides are acknowledged and recognized and felt, rather than trying to stuff the sad parts down and deny them. Christmas is not all about happy-happy all the time, not for me, not anymore. I used to love Christmas and all the implied magic surrounding the winter holidays. I felt that magic in a very real way, but it became harder and harder to feel, to rediscover that magic as the years went by. Life experiences tend to change us from those innocently joyous little kids we used to be. But bittersweet can be a good thing; it makes me savor the good parts, remember the parts that are irrevocably in the past and do some mourning if it's needed, and be able to see and recognize the good parts happening now that are fleeting in their own way. There's a lot to be said for enjoying the moment.

I am so incredibly fortunate with all my family and friends, and this Christmas especially it seems appropriate to appreciate all of the wonderful people in my life and to say thank you for being part of my life, though many of you are scattered all over the globe. I am a lucky person and you all make my life richer. Merry Christmas, all of you. Hope you can find some of the magic, too. I'm sending out virtual *hugs* to you all.