I’m not a huge fan of Christmas. One of my life goals is to never watch It’s a Wonderful Life. No carols until the 20th of December is a yearly mantra. I find the hype and hypocrisy a bit much. And all of that was before my Mom passed during Christmas a few years ago. Don’t start calling me Scrooge, etc. And please don’t start in on the alleged war of Christmas. Save it. Truth is, I love Christmas, but usually the message of Christmas gets lost in all the BS around the holiday.
That said, you won’t be surprised when I say that I struggle during the holidays sometimes. When I do, one thing I can fall back on is what kids that life had shafted, taught me about the magic of Christmas. Thanks to them, no matter how deep the Xmas BS gets, I experienced the magic of Christmas.
While I have numerous awesome memories around Christmas - from Our Happy Birthday Jesus parties growing up, my uncle driving into Westfield from Tucson unannounced and then driving some more to find me a race car set; my first Secret Santa party in junior high; three snowy Christmases Tucson, and fresh trails behind the groomer at Hyak. But when things turn dark the memories that I return to fight the malaise of the season are Christmases at Childrens’ Home..
Residential treatment doesn’t usually inspire the Christmas Spirit but for me those experiences represent the essence of the holiday. In fact my experiences working at the Childrens’ Home taught me about the magic of Christmas and got me believing in Santa Clause again.
The days leading up to holidays were filled with chaos and big feelings. Youth didn’t know if they could go home for the holiday.Some didn’t have a home to home to and others had a home they didn’t want to go back to even if it meant presents and a break from the Childrens’ Home. Once all that got sorted out and those who were leaving did leave everything settled down. The Tucson community did a lot for the clients of the Children’s Home. We had presents donated from all corners of the city. For me, however, it was a time where we could immerse our clients in just being kids for a few days.
Perhaps my favorite Christmas memory was a Christmas Eve in my first or second year working there. Of our 16 clients, only three remained - a nine year old Navajo boy, a ten year old BiPolar, Schizophrenic girl with anger issues, and a 12 year old girl who killed her mother and wanted more than anything to be loved. Three clients, two staff and an envelope with a few hundred dollars for food for three days (the kitchen ladies finally got a well deserved holiday). Our first big decision of the holiday involved making a decision on what to eat for dinner on Christmas Eve.
One of the ladies suggested we go out for dinner. Soon we realized that none of the youth had ever been to a restaurant that had waiters or waitresses. We asked the kids what kind of food they always wanted to try and after a quick meeting of the minds it was decided that we would have Chinese food for dinner that Christmas Eve.
We made a reservation at Peking Palace and the preparations began. Leander asked me to iron his jeans and his cowboy shirt. The ladies took baths, curled their hair, and put on their best dresses. My boss Robyn and I loaded everyone into the van and off we went.
Many of the details of that night have faded with time. What I do remember is the look on the kids’ faces when the hostess welcomed us, took the ladies’ coats, and showed us to our table. Chopsticks and cloth napkins were new things as was being able to order anything they wanted off a menu. Our waitress patiently answered every question about the different dishes and soon the table was filled with dumplings, spring rolls, General Tso’s Chicken, Sesame Beef, soups, and curries. We learned that fish sauce was the original ketchup and you could in fact put it on everything. We all tried our best to use chopsticks. Fortunately the wait staff had time to give chopstick lessons and explained that yes we could just lift the bowl to our mouth. These youth who had dealt with the crappiest aspects of what life had to offer forgot about all that and for a few hours felt like royalty. Robyn and I forgot we were working and didn’t focus on when our shift ended. We saw the magic growing around us.
What I realized was that curiosity, possibility, and wonder comprised the magic of Christmas.
Soon enough with To Go boxes in hand we headed out to the van and the inevitable question - “do we have to head back so soon?” And to that we knew enough to say, “No, no we don’t.” Two young ladies who fought most days of the week shared ideas and talked about how they couldn’t wait to try wearing makeup. Leander held the door open for the ladies.
The magic of Christmas was upon us.
We drove off into the night to enjoy everything we could. Our first stop was a mountain lookout. The girls told Leander that we’d be able to see Santa from up there, but really we just ruined the makeout sessions of some teenagers and looked out across the lights of Tucson. We picked out the brightest neighborhoods and were soon driving through those super decorated neighborhoods that went all out with lights. Soon enough the kids were each asleep in their row of the van. As we rolled back into the parking lot everyone woke up and I’ll admit, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Would it be back to business as usual? Would the magic of that evening burst or fade?
Maybe it was more for us than them but we had the kids change into pajamas and slippers while we made hot cocoa for us all. While we watched Christmas specials on TV and listened to Christmas songs on the radio each child fell asleep on their couch wrapped in a blanket. We carried each of them to their bed and tucked them in. The ladies each thanked us as we tucked them in. Leander, wiped out, mumbled his thanks. But as I left his room he woke briefly and asked, “Is that Christmas?”
Yes my friend, that is Christmas. A moment to be a child; to have hope; to consider what could be; and forget if for only a moment that life is hard.
Not everyone gets excited about the holidays. Instead of calling them out as Scrooge or Grinch - maybe give them space to be - they may have good reason. When the malaise fogs my mood, I have incredible memories that serve as a lighthouse to help find my way. During the holidays, try being a lighthouse.