KeeperofStories: Ernie Sapiro Photography

Wednesday, December 24, 2014

Against a White Merry Christmas

The temptation, if you are a thinker, or rebellious, is to lash out against religious celebrations this time of year. What I've found at the center of these people (myself included) is a specific anger against something, or someone that contradicted the very tenets of the religion espoused. In very young children it is particularly painful. In adults that hurt can hurtle into space as if it were a comet, or space debris doing a lot of damage to explorers. Without discernment many get hurt from the hurts to our intellect, our spirit, our sense of purpose which may have been damaged in the onslaught that made many of us rebel against the religion of the holidays. However it happened we are responsible for the pieces, picking up the pieces and routing out a journey back to the source of our pain even if the pain came from studying the major questions of one's religion in a library. It is pain.

I can tell you it is of paramount importance to do this healing work, but I cannot tell you how to do it. I can start with intent. That has to change. Something has to prick your spirit, stir your conscience into re-thinking your life. For me it was my children. They were very young. In fact, Janvier, my first born was young enough not to be in school when I began a process to eradicate the evidence of Christmas in my household. Intellectually, it was grueling because I engaged people in my church. I learned Christians are resistant to changing the story with facts, and the thought of reexamining their practices of belief is a slap against God, they feel. My research was thorough. Its intensity led me to a kind of missionary campaign for the minds of my children.

Over time, I believe Janvier may have been between 4 and 6, understood my lectures. One fine day after listening to me again explaining why this was that and that was so, and no Christmas tree she looked up at me and said, "That's fine, Daddy. But, I want Christmas, and Santa Claus!"

I was done.

I called Mommy. Mommy simply said, "Bring 'em over here. Just bring them over here." And that was that. My children, no thanks to me, have many wonderful memories of Christmas at their grandparents' houses. At the time they had two sets of grandparents, and two sets of great-grandparents. All of my money went to keep a roof over our heads and food in our tummies. I was never able to afford gifts. Plus, the season and its obligations never entered my mind until a week or so before Christmas. My family was generous. They made sure the children had gifts every year. Now they are grown and have extended the stories into theirs. - Gregory E. Woods, Keeper of Stories 12.24.14