The In-Between Days

After I ate the last of our leftovers yesterday afternoon, I immediately turned my attention to the whirlwind stretch of days between Thanksgiving and Christmas and drew in a deep breath. These in-between days threaten to sweep me away in a mad flurry of commitments and preparations, and this frenzy takes an emotional toll on me at a time when I should be focusing my thoughts on the beauty and spirit of the season.

I’m not alone. A lot of my friends share that they feel somewhat overwhelmed during this time, as well. And then disappointed. There’s just so much to do, and it seems impossible to make everyone happy.

To begin with — and I know this is a small thing — but the sharp, dry winter air wreaks havoc on my exposed skin. My lips become as parched as the Sahara Desert itself, cracking painfully if I dare venture outside without the faithful tube of chapstick that’s become my constant companion. Lip balm lives in my pocket now, as essential as my cell phone, requiring reapplication every hour just to maintain basic comfort. And I have to apply so much lotion to the dry skin on my face that it clogs my pores and causes my face to break out like that of a 13 year old, and just in time for the family’s holiday photos.

Meanwhile, I notice those around me taking time off of work, and though I try every year to arrange my work schedule to be light in December, it never works out that way. In fact, there’s always an unexpected emergency of some kind that requires my full attention.

The social calendar for the month is a complex puzzle that would challenge the most skilled logistics expert. Everyone’s intentions are good. Everyone wants to gather, to celebrate, to share meals and memories — and rightfully so. But trying to coordinate schedules with friends and family feels like attempting to build a spacecraft that will carry humans to Mars to set up a new colony. Work load, travel plans, and competing family obligations create a dizzying matrix of possibilities and conflicts. When we finally manage to pin down a date that works for everyone, it feels like a minor miracle. Then, someone’s feelings get hurt, or someone gets mad, or someone starts crying — every single year.

On television, I see commercials of the beautiful people dressed in fashionable winter attire, gathering together in well-decorated homes, with snow falling lightly outside, drinking wine or hot chocolate, eating big spreads of food on Christmas china, laughing, singing, exchanging expensive gifts (big diamond necklaces, cars with giant red bows on the top, etc.) and having a lovely, lovely time, and I think to myself: Who are those people? My holidays have never looked like that. Are the holidays supposed to look like that?

Every year, in these in-between continued from page

days, there’s a persistent voice inside my head whispering that I need to slow down, savor these precious December moments, and reflect on the deeper meaning of the season. But finding time for contemplation feels impossible when I’m juggling work and there are gifts to purchase, presents to wrap, decorations to retrieve from the basement, cookies and casseroles to bake, cards and packages to send, and people to visit. The true spirit of the holidays calls to me like a comfortable chair by the fireplace, yet I’m too busy dashing around to sink into its cushions and relax.

Again, I know that I am not alone in feeling this way. I don’t want to be a Scrooge. I don’t want to be like the Grinch. I don’t want to live in a perpetual state of pressure and frustration. I want to feel at ease, but how?

And then, my question is answered. There are the brief moments of grace in the in-between days: watching a cardinal’s winter dance at the backyard feeder while waiting for my coffee to brew; seeing the first bloom on my Christmas cactus and thinking about my Grandmother Jarriel; savoring a spoonful of ambrosia and remembering my mom; sharing a laugh with an old friend during a quick catch-up call; hearing the giggles of my nephew’s kids; or catching the scent of fresh cedar outside while walking the dog in the woods. Perhaps the magic of this season lives not in the grand gestures we imagine we should be making or in the gatherings we imagine we should be preparing and hosting, but in the small, stolen moments of joy that pepper these hectic days. So let’s try and notice those and focus on those — today, tomorrow, and every day.