Now that we are a good month away from the holiday season, I
feel I can share how Kelly’s holiday blog post snapped me out of my bah-humbug
attitude.
Several years ago, I jumped on the “holiday letter” bandwagon,
by sending a one page typed letter expounding on all the wonderful things that
we as a family and as individuals had accomplished that year. Shortly
afterwards, I received a Christmas note from a family acquaintance who had
apparently received our letter. This was from a person who had a similar family
to ours: a hardworking father, a stay at
home mom, three children, and a dog. The note was fairly short and to the
point; but in a nutshell it asked that we not send anymore of these holiday
letters about our “perfect” family. It still amazes me today how words, whether
spoken or written, can have such a powerful affect. This person not only
changed my outlook on “holiday letters,” but on how I expounded upon any of our accomplishments as a family, or as individuals, in the future. I became very reluctant to even talk about our family unless someone
asked, and even then I seem to temper the good with some bad.
This past summer, another individual lambasted us about our
“perfect” family. Kelly was diagnosed shortly afterwards. I wanted to go back and
cram that word “perfect” down that individual’s throat, but then, in the months
following Kelly’s diagnosis, I would begin to understand why that “holiday
letter” recipient and the other individual had such attitudes about this
“perfect” family. It actually didn’t have anything to do with us as a family,
but rather what they were experiencing in their own lives at the time. How do I know this, because that “I don’t want to hear about their
perfect life” attitude has hit me more than a few times since August. It’s hard
to be happy about an engagement, a wedding, a birth, or a promotion, when you
are watching some of your loved ones facing a different set of circumstances. Yet,
it’s not my place to rain on someone else’s parade, but rather rejoice that we
all experience “perfect” moments amidst the non-perfect ones. Our family isn’t, and never will be, “perfect;” but we do
experience, accept and celebrate the good, the bad and sometimes even the ugly
whether we are together or apart.
This brings me to this past holiday season and our family
Christmas card picture. After my past experience with the “holiday letter,” I
was bracing myself for comments on why we were all wearing smiles as though
everything was ‘perfect!’ Thus ensued my all time low during the holidays. It
was easy to put on a smile for the camera and for those who might see my family,
but inside I felt like the grinch had stolen my Christmas. No tree, no
presents, no energy or desire to celebrate in the traditional sense. My nerves
were on edge and I snapped, luckily it was only in front of my family. We
decided to go to the candlelit Christmas Eve service at the church we had been
married and Kelly had been baptized. In
the pew in front of Kelly sat a young girl and her mom. The little girl’s hair
was beautifully braided and I sat back and watched Kelly look at her while
fidgeting with the scarf on her own head. I reflected on the last time we were
in this church with one year old Kelly in her beautiful white dress and her
full head of hair. This service, just as that one so many years ago, consisted
of singing a number of hymns and I found myself belting them out through the
stream of tears running down my face. After we got home, early on Christmas
morning, I read Kelly’s blog and took my beautiful daughter’s advice to stop
and look around. What I found was a sense of peace in that I was where I needed
to be, doing what I needed to do, and feeling what I needed to feel. Was
everything “perfect” in my life, no, but such is life. Do I want to send out a
holiday letter or Christmas picture depicting sadness, or depicting happiness,
even hopefulness? I’ll continue to choose the latter. Of course, we did receive
many comments about our Christmas picture: all extremely POSITIVE.
Now here is an update to a comment I made in an earlier
post:
I recently had my yearly mammogram at a different
mammography center. I was expecting, as I stated before, that a doctor would
come to speak with me after my scan was done. Unfortunately, I was sent on my
way without any consultation. So this wasn’t any different than I had
experienced at my other mammography center. However, for the first time I
received the “dreaded callback.” My gynecologist called me, ironically while we
were at Kelly’s chemo treatment, to tell me that I needed to go back for
further testing. I wasn’t able to get an appointment until a week later. A
very, very long week! I’ll cut to the
chase they did another scan and then had the doctor come to speak with me (so
that’s obviously why I made the mistake of thinking the mammography center had
the doctor come talk to their patients...it’s because they had also received
the “dreaded callback”).
Luckily all was good with the scan, and as I approached
Kelly, who was sitting anxiously in the waiting room, I motioned two thumbs up.
Kelly sank into the chair with extreme relief (I do believe she was more
anxious than I was). Kelly didn’t move, and I said in a fairly loud voice, “Let’s
get the hell out of here. We’ve been here enough times in the last several
months. I don’t want to come here for awhile!” The staff all had smiles on
their faces, and dare I say, most of the people in the waiting room probably
wanted to get out of there as well!
Here's to a new year!
Kimberly
