The Perfect Holiday Gifts!

I really wasn’t trying to be difficult.  I wasn’t trying to be argumentative.  I wasn’t trying to cause stress or anxiety.  Instead, I was being completely honest.  Whenever anyone asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I always gave the same truthful answer.

“Nothing,” I always said to all of my friends and family members whenever they asked about Christmas presents.  There honestly wasn’t anything I wanted.  I already had everything I needed to be happy.  I have good food, clean water, safe shelter.  I have books and music.  I have clothes, a job, a car.  I have my five senses—and, many times, a sixth.  According to a lot of people, I have an overabundance of emotions…and they are probably right!  I consistently laugh, cry, and love without boundaries.  I have family, even though I may get on everyone’s nerves sometimes.  I live with three dogs who love me, and a cat that is still on the fence but is slowly getting used to me.  I have friends who may not always be in my life but are always there for me when needed.  I have freedom for adventure and travel.

What more could I possibly want, especially on the holiest day of the year?

As I have gotten older, the traditions of Christmas have changed for me.  For the past several years, I haven’t decorated trees, or put up wreaths and holly, or accepted presents.  I usually like to spend Christmas alone in meditation.  Some people find this unusual but for me it is the best way to honor the Savior without the distraction and stress that usually comes with the holiday.  I enjoy simple pleasures.

For example, I woke up at around 2 am on Christmas morning.  I climbed out of bed and walked into the living room.  I had a strong desire to look out of the big picture window and stare at the dark night sky and gaze at the stars.  But instead of darkness and stars, I find a night white with quietly falling snow.  I sat snuggled up in a blanket on the living room couch as I leaned towards the window and watched the snowflakes magically dancing across the front lawn.  I prayed, meditated, and sang songs Christmas carols to myself.  My mind also kept swirling around the events of the day.  The afternoon of Christmas Eve, 2017, was spent going out to lunch with my brother, sister-in-law, and nephew.  The day was full of laughter as my brother and nephew tried to “out-funny” each other.  I tried to compete with them, too, but I couldn’t keep up with their quick wits and sly one-liners.  I’m usually laughing too hard at their comedic challenge to think of anything funny to say.  But that’s okay, because I have since become one of the best laughers around.  This afternoon was no different; the event ended again with my brother mockingly yelling to his son, “You’re grounded for being funnier than I am.”  And again, I found myself laughing joyfully before I finally got up from the couch and went back to bed to snuggle warmly and contentedly under the covers.

When I awoke again on Christmas morning, I carefully drove my car across the dusting of snow on the side streets to the local Quiktrip.  I parked in a narrow space at the far end of the small lot.  I grabbed my purse and climbed out of my vehicle.  As I walked toward s the entrance, I noticed a young woman holding the door open for several people who walked into the convenient store.  Her back was towards me so all I could see was her long, dark blond hair that flowed over the collar and down the back of her black and white checked winter coat.  I approached the woman and circled around in front of her to get to the door.  I reached out my hand to take the door from her, but she pulled back away from me before swinging her hand towards the entrance.

“No, please, go ahead,” the woman said to me as I now saw her sweet face and beautiful, big smile.

“Oh, you don’t have to do that,” I said to her.  But then I stopped and smiled at her as something my brother, Tony, always said to me.  Whenever I refused gifts or tried to be defiantly independent, Tony would tell me, “Don’t deny other people the right to be good to you.”  So, now, I smiled at this young woman and realized that she was giving me a gift.  Kindness, the willingness to do simple things for other people, is a dying art lately.  So, now, I looked at this woman and said, “That’s very sweet of you.  Thank you so much.”

As I walked through the door the woman held open for me, she happily shouted out, “Merry Christmas.”

“Thank you.  You, too,” I said back as I stepped into the warmth of the crowded store.  I couldn’t help laughing as I looked around at the other patrons.  Everyone was wrapped up in a heavy coat to ward off the winter chill.  And yet, underneath the coats, everyone was wearing cozy, colorful, flannel pajamas or tattered, comfortable sweats.  I have found my people, I thought with a laugh.  I, too, had just slipped on an old jacket over my sweats before leaving the house.  I love people best at their natural quirkiness.  I love people who are just as comfortable walking around in nightwear as they are in business suits.  And, of course, today was a day like no other as everyone politely dodged around each other as they whispered, “Excuse me,” “No, you first,” and “Merry Christmas.”  I listened to the joyful, happy voices as I paid for my coffee and walked back out to my car.

I spent the rest of Christmas day in quiet contemplation.  I was feeling blissful and at peace, just the way Christmas is supposed to be.

So, see, there wasn’t anything I needed for Christmas.  But I had received the best gifts of all: laughter, kindness, peace…and once again, I had received from God and the Savior the perfect Christmas holiday!

 

 

 

Advertisement

Sunday Mornings

I didn’t always like Sundays when I was a child.  When I was in grade school, my family attended church every Sunday morning at 10:30.  It was a ritual I was expected to perform without question and without choice.  As a result, instead of feeling peaceful and blessed, I remember just feeling anxious, exhausted, and bored.  Even though I had visions of angels, I didn’t feel connected to religion.  Though I didn’t understand it at the time, somewhere in my heart, I was developing my own faith, my own belief system.  Now, that I am older and feel free to express my personal feelings and thoughts, I have become more spiritual, loving, and faithful.  Even though I am not a churchgoer, I love Sundays now! I look forward to Sunday mornings all week.  I enjoy the simplicity and laziness of a beautiful Sunday morning.  To me, there is just something so peaceful and enjoyable about Sundays.

I don’t want to rush around on Sunday mornings.  I don’t want to feel stress or anxiety.  I usually spend Sunday mornings studying, reading, writing, and contemplating life while indulging in a large cup of black coffee.  So, on this Sunday morning, May 3, 2015, I woke up around 7:30, got dressed, and drove to a small café for coffee.  I sat in a small booth in the restaurant and unpacked the three books I had brought with me that day.  Several years ago, a teacher told me to always carry around three books: one for study, one for entertainment, and one for prayer or spiritual awakening.  Everywhere I go now, I travel with a bag of books.  Since this was Sunday morning, I decided to concentrate on the spiritual awakening.  I opened up my book by Brian Weiss and took out my notebook.  I usually take notes on everything I read unless I’m reading for entertainment.  I found myself completely relaxing now as I opened up my notebook, picked up my pen, and began to write down information on the immortality of the soul.  I breathed a heavy sigh as I felt my body relaxing.

Suddenly, I found myself jumping when I heard a loud voice shout, “What the f**k did that mean?”

I shivered and cringed for a moment as the strong male voice continued to shout.  “Man, that was the strangest s**t I ever did see,” the man hollered.

Loud, unfamiliar voices make me uncomfortable. I remember my father’s loud, stern voice and the anger his words would conveyed.  I get nervous around loud noises, especially when I am out on my own.  There have been so many news stories of people being horribly violent in public places.  I worry that someone will strike out at me for some reason and I have no protection.  As the man continued to shout, my first thought was, “I need to leave.”  I put down my pen, closed my notebook, and grabbed my bag…

…But suddenly I stopped moving.  I sat silently for a moment.  Instead of yelling now, the man was laughing; the sound echoed around the room, bouncing off the walls.  His laughter wasn’t cruel, maniacal, or hateful.  His full, loud laughter instead was joyful, happy, and hearty…and it made me smile.

I glanced up, and straight in front of me, sitting at a table, was a group of four young men and one young woman.  The man who had been yelling was dressed in a stained, torn tank top and khaki shorts.  His long, curly, dark hair was pulled back under a blue folded bandana.  His companions were dressed in a similar fashion.  All five of the people sitting at the table looked like they had been lost in the desert for a few days.  And yet there was something still so fresh and beautiful about them.  They were dusty not dirty.  They were loud but not angry.  They were cussing but not offensive.

The people were a strong contradiction to my day.  My quiet Sunday morning had been interrupted and yet it still felt peaceful.  I was reading about the immortality of the soul and watching people express their true spirits right in front of me.  I am alone and yet felt connected to the people around me.  As the group sitting across from me yelped and hollered and laughed, my day seemed to be more loving, serene, and calm.  I loved their energy.  I loved their spirit.  I loved the way they playfully teased and laughed with each other. The five people seemed to remind me that even though I am an older woman, I am, every day, growing younger.

After about another half hour, the five young people left the café and I returned to my book.  I couldn’t concentrate now though.  I felt pumped up, energized, and ready to get on with my day.  I didn’t want to sit in quiet contemplation today.  I wanted to laugh.  I wanted to scream out.  I wanted to be heard.  I felt so blessed to see people so alive and joyful today.  What more could I have possibly prayed for?  My peaceful Sunday morning had been suspended, and yet I have never felt so close to God.  Sundays don’t have to be quiet, but they can always be blissful.