Creating A New Holiday Tradition

Years ago when I was an open hearted, poverty-stricken young flower child, we had a visitor come to crash with us for way too long.  He happened to be there for our very cold and hungry Christmas.



One day when we unexpectedly had money to put some gas in the car and I was going into town to get some meqer supplies, he asked if he might get a ride, as he had some Christmas shopping to do.  I couldn't imagine that he suddenly had money and there were no signs of him going off to work or selling anything--no signs of him doing anything night and day except playing his guitar and singing his homemade songs.  But I said, "Sure, okay."



When we got to the small farming community that was our town I headed for the grocery store, and he mysteriously vanished.  I bought more of the usual staples:  yeast and flour.  I had learned that French bread is the one foodstuff you can make practically out of nothing.  I decided that since it was Christmas, what the hell, I'd splurge and throw in a stick of butter to go with it.



Later that week, as Christmas was only a day or two away, Rich said he was hitching 500 miles North to Chicago because he had Christmas presents to deliver.  I was astonished that he had come through on this promise to himself.  He got out the bag of treasures and began pulling them out one by one and showing them to me.



"This is for my youngest sister, Pamela.  She's ten.  As you can see, I was fortunate to find at the local department store, so-called, a plastic representation of an onion, which I am giving with love to Pam.  The cost was five cents.  I will write her a poem to go with it about how many layers she has yet to discover in her young hidden self, and what an adventure and dangerous, joyous journey it will be to unpeel each new layer.  Enough said."



Then he pulled a package of brightly colored large-sized file folder labels out.  "These are for my poor, dear mother.  She is always going on about how with seven children and a husband in her stuff she feels like she has nothing of her own.  I am going to write her a letter or a poem and give her loving permission to go ahead and possess her own possessions:  to name, to call them sacred, to warn others 'hands off or else.'"  She sure deserves to have a few of her own things in this life like a hair brush she can find,  pots not being used to plant marijuana, and slippers that aren't an invitation to every bare foot in the house."



Rich went on like that for each of the eight members of his family and the symbolic gifts and trinkets he'd purchased for them.  I was deeply moved by the time he finished.  I had to emotionally numb not to realize the sensitivity of the depth of the gift he was giving to each.  Every person wants to be seen.  In a large family sometimes it is easy to feel invisible.  He would let each know he saw them hiding in plain sight.  He would give each a hug that they could be reminded of every time they saw their object in the days, months and years ahead.



I thanked Rich for the lesson he'd taught me that I never forgot.



And how do I plan to use it this year for my own holiday tradition in my own small family of a daughter age 23 and a son nearly 20?  Certainly not earning their eternal ire by giving these urban hipsters fake vegetables and office supplies!



But I do plan to keep Rich's lesson in my path with a heart in it to Christmas giving with love.  I am going to use all I know of each using all the soul sensitivity, mindfulness, and depth of perception that I can tune into, and make each one a very special collage.



Not just any old collage, mind you, will pass muster for the first annual Christmas gift collage giving tradition in my family.  Each must zero in on exactly who each child/adult is as I see them, walls and all, strengths and, maybe a few weaknesses just to keep it real, dreams, ambitions, hopes, values, and goals transcribed into pictures, lace, beads, bits of wood and plants, buttons, old jewelry, photographs, paint, markers, and whatever else takes my fancy and feels intuitively right for them.



The response to this new tradition remains a mystery.  It's existence is a secret.  Perhaps next year when they are aware of it, they will want to make one showing how they see me.



I think it's a lovely way to let them know that I view as precious their goals, dreams, values and fantasies.  How can I encourage them to make them all come into manifestation if I don't acknowledge their existence and honor them?



I believe it will be a splendid new Christmas tradition in this season of rebirth and renewal.