The engraved silver tray that sits on the sideboard in the dining room has no real purpose for most of the year. It just sits there looking pretty and reminding me of the friends from whom it was a gift. Come late November, however, it is pressed into service as the receptacle of Christmas cards.
Sometimes, on days when all the holiday-related chores are done and I’m feeling particularly festive, I open the day’s cards with a brass letter opener while drinking something hot. On days when they are accompanied by too much junk mail and/or too many solicitations, I rip them open on the way back to the house from the mailbox. However they are opened, each is dropped onto the tray eventually forming a soft mound of cardstock and smiling faces.
A handful of them will be traditional Christmas cards, the kind with stylized nativity scenes or ornate wreaths on the front with sentimental phrases printed inside: “May you know the true meaning of Christmas this year.” “Blessings to you and your family during this special season.” “Merry Christmas from our house to yours.”
The vast majority, though, are the fancy kind from Shutterfly or Mint, “custom designs” featuring photos of tailgates and proms and graduations, of ski trips and spring break and Independence Day at the beach. There is not a frown or closed eye or crooked collar among them. Everybody I know, apparently, is happy and beautiful.
It was the habit, the tradition for many years before her death, that at some point during the holidays my mother and I would sit and go through the cards together. “This,” I would point out to Mama, “is my friend from law school and her family.” She would hold the card with both hands, gaze intently, and offer commentary of some kind: “That little girl looks just like her daddy.”
It is, to be honest, a little early to be thinking about Christmas cards. We still have two weeks until Thanksgiving, after all, but I am already getting emails offering me 40% off if I place my order now, so it – the choosing and ordering and addressing and stamping and mailing – has been on my mind. And I have made a decision.
This year I am not sending Christmas cards.
I did not come to this conclusion without serious consideration. And it is not just because I spent over $400 on the endeavor last year. Nor is it because the year has been exhausting and I simply do not have the energy or because I do not have sincerely warm feelings for the people on my Christmas card list (fastidiously maintained since 1992). It is because I have allowed the choosing and ordering and addressing and stamping and mailing to become rote, automatic, mechanical. I have permitted the process to overshadow Christmas itself, made the checking off of one more thing from the holiday to-do list the ultimate goal.
As a result, I fear I have completely failed at acknowledging and honoring the people with whom I share memories of the past and hope for the future, with whom I have experienced the greatest delight and the deepest grief, without whom my life would be infinitely smaller.
Penance is due for such an egregious transgression. Retribution is owed. Restitution must be paid. So, let it begin here. Hear these words of confession: I love you all and I am grateful.
Copyright 2024
Kathy, I will miss your card but understand your choice. It causes me to be more thoughtfully focused as I think toward the days of Advent and Christmas. Thank you for sharing with all of us, your friends, so regularly with your blog. Much JOY as we approach this mist precious season.