Remember that old saying, “The more you put into something the more you get out of it”? Whoever first wrote that phrase probably penned it in December in the middle of a personal meltdown.
The twelfth month demands so much of us. Ready or not, it yanks emotions and energy right out of our bodies. We completely dismantle our homes to decorate them again. In our house this requires countless trips to the basement lugging and gasping. I dread taking holiday decorations down, even before I put them up. Isn’t that sad to admit?
We adorn the outsides of our homes also. This past weekend it took two people (including me) 50 minutes to put up one item while the box cover screamed at us “Takes seconds to display.” Seconds, not even minutes, seconds. Talk about ‘in your face’ inadequacy.
There are cards to address, notes to write, gifts to purchase, parties to plan, cookies to bake, concerts to attend and presents to wrap. Every single minute we have something we should be doing. While always, no matter how much we prepare, our ideal holiday scene taunts us and haunts our psyche.
Holiday music can bring back happier holidays from our past. Everyone else seems to be walking hand in hand with the perfect mate. Other people have story book families caroling around Martha Stewart trees. No one else seems to purchase defective strands of lights. Only my printer cartridges run out of ink in the midst of printing the Christmas letter. Perfect snow covers the roofs of other people’s homes. They are the same people whose children dress in red velvet and Christmas plaid. Their kids even smile in the Christmas photo.
So why do I love the holidays so much? It’s a three-word answer. I don’t know. Or perhaps it’s I am insane. I only know I do love the holidays. Some things we can’t explain. Maybe it really is true that the more we give the more we receive.