Yeah, I second those who say decorate. If you already own the decorations, you might as well use them. What you don’t already own, you could try making.
Modern Christmastime has become so much about material things - you are lucky, in a way. You have a chance to discover what Christmas means to you outside of monetary concerns. Give of each other, give of your spirit, your dreams, your hopes, your imagination, because those are more precious than anything bought from a store.
For me, Christmas is about hope in the midst of what is winter for those of us in the Norther Hemisphere. By the 25th, it has got as dark as it is going to get, and while there are still colder days ahead, we will gradually get more sunlight. Those pagan reasons apply, whatever your religion. Can you take in a free concert, maybe? Even if you are not particularly religious, perhaps a church service may help. Family and friends are much more important than the material trappings, and more important than the ‘trapped on a treadmill’ feeling that many of us get.
May I recommend some of the Vinyl Cafe christmas stories of Stuart McLean? They are available as a free download from the CBC, and the tales of Dave at Christmastime are especially good.
A story of mine from a few years ago - Singers often work as Carolers at this time of year. It’s pretty good money, and fairly easy. One year, when I was quite broke, I started doing Carols for Cash in mid-November. By the time Christmas was in full swing, I was doing 3 3-hour sessions a day, strolling through malls in a quasi-Victorian costume singing the 30-40 most popular Christmas carols over and over again. It grinds away at your Christmas spirit, doing something that should be heartfelt in some of the most commercial settings in the world for no reason other than the fact that you need money.
Anyway, the last Saturday before Christmas that year, we were caroling outside for the local BIA, and we took our 1st coffee break in a doughnut shop. This lady came up to us and asked us if we could come to her house, just around the corner, and sing for her mother who was bedridden. We looked at each other, shrugged, and said ‘Sure.’ Next break, we walked up, went into the house, and discovered bedridden meant at home in palliative care with an oxygen tank. We sang a couple, asked the lady if her mother had any favourites, and sang ‘The Coventry Carol’, ‘In the Bleak Mid-Winter’, ‘The Huron Carol’ - some of the more obscure ones. The eyes of that woman in the bed just lit up; the rest of the family was in tears.
After a half an hour, we had to get back to work (this was not exactly the sort of thing we were supposed to do on our breaks, after all.) and it was as we were leaving that the woman who had approached us in the doughnut shop told us that up until that year, her mother had still sung in the church choir at the age of 80-something. Her cancer was terminal, she could no longer leave the house, she needed 24 hour care and all they could really do was control the pain. It was anybody’s guess whether she would actually live beyond Christmas day, and all the family were gathered to pay their respects this Christmas. She then offered to pay us, at which point I became the spokesperson of the group. I said I was so glad to sing those songs in a meaningful way to someone who appreciated them so much, I didn’t want any money, as that would somehow lessen the experience for me. I told her that if she felt that what we had done was worth any money, she should give whatever she felt was appropriate to the choir at the church in her mother’s name. Out of the hundreds of hours I’ve spent singing Christmas carols, that was the most meaningful.
So, read poems for each other. Sing to each other. Make this a Christmas that you will look back on for having found joy in the face of adversity, and let that be the best present you could ever have given one another.
Wishing you peace, joy and happiness,
Le Ministre
I’m happy for you!