Nothing brings up memories like Christmas. The good, the bad and the ugly-our favorite Christmas and our worst Christmas. People want to be happy at Christmas. They smile more and laugh more-even carols say, "Joy to the World" and "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas."
When my children were small, every Christmas was magically filled with love and laughter and gifts and toys and food and friends. We celebrated Thanksgiving by putting up our Christmas tree and decorating the house, and we didn't take the tree down until New Year's day. Christmas lasted six weeks at our house. We had so many decorations a neighbor said our house looked like a Walmart store had exploded inside it.
When my children were the three wise men in the Christmas pageant at church, they said they were bringing "Gold, Common sense, and fur" to baby Jesus. People in the congregation were laughing their heads off.
My husband passed away, and my children grew up and didn't just leave home, but moved thousands of miles away.
I stopped celebrating Christmas. I gave away all my decorations because it made me sad to remember how things "used to be" and would never be again.
Last winter was miserably cold. My winter coat was so old it was faded and frayed, and the zipper was broken. I decided to buy myself a new winter coat as a Christmas gift to myself.
I found a beautiful suede coat, and when I tried it on, it felt like it was hugging me. The coat was expensive, more than I'd ever spent on a coat before, but I told myself it was so warm and beautiful and would last for years, and I deserved a good coat.
The next day my daughter called. She was living in Boston at the time, and she said she was freezing. Snow was up to her knees, and she had to walk over a mile to her job. She was wearing a jacket and three sweaters to try to keep warm.
I put my new coat in a box and mailed it priority to her. She was thrilled and loved the coat. She said it was perfect and now she was warm.
I still needed a new coat so went back to the store and bought the same coat again. Then I got a letter from a friend in Alaska. She said she'd gone to a restaurant for lunch, and someone had stolen her coat. She was wearing her husband's coat that was not only huge but also had the name of a football team printed all over it.
I packed my new coat in a box and mailed it priority to my friend. She was thrilled to get a new, warm, suede coat. She said it was the most beautiful coat she'd ever had.
I didn't feel like buying a third coat but it made me feel good that I could keep my daughter and my friend warm. Eventually I did buy a new winter coat, but it wasn't suede; it was just a coat. Giving away those two coats gave me more pleasure than I could have imagined.
I read that more than 20 million old people in America will spend Christmas alone. I expect it is more than that. Millions home alone, in nursing homes, spouses die, children move away, old people are left behind.
Do you know someone who will be alone this Christmas? You don't have to send them a card or buy them a gift or invite them to dinner . . . but do you have a few minutes to call them and just say you are thinking about them and want to wish them a Merry Christmas?
The sound of your voice could mean the world to them. They'd know they weren't alone, they weren't forgotten, and that they mattered to someone.
I hope you are remembered by friends and family-and that this Christmas will be one of your happiest.
Crying Wind is the author of Crying Wind, My Searching Heart, When the Stars Danced, Thunder in Our Hearts, Lightning in Our Veins, and Stars in the Desert. See http://www.IndianLife.org.
