Contemplations: Holidailies: Here We Come A-Wassailing

Here we come a-wassailing
Among the leaves so green,
Here we come a wand'ring,
So fair to be seen.

When the season began to get underway and we started to pull out the decorations and the tree, I was, admittedly, in a bad place. Grinchy, one might say. Things at were rough—students with high school drama that consumed their days and devoured restless nights; coworkers who were also filled with unthoughtful, unkind, abrasive high school drama; my own kids who lacked places to burn energy, people all around me who were tired and let down and angry.

The weather mirrored everyone around me—cold, fierce, miserable. The most unChristmassy mood pushed its way into me and I wasn’t immune from its callous hooks. I was angry, anxious, upset. How could I go on? I felt like I was up against a wall, trapped in a whirlwind of circumstances that were spiraling out of my control. I was hurting, crying. There was nothing giving about these days.

Love and joy come to you,
And to your wassail too,
And God bless you and send you a happy new year,
And God send you a happy new year.

And then. Some gifts. A smile of understanding, a note of support, a venting session, a laugh, and a song to uplift my heart. And, just like that, the lights began to look brighter, more festive; the tinsel shimmering rather than tacky, the bells caroling rather than clanging.

We are not daily beggars
Who beg from door to door,
But we are neighbor's children
Whom you have seen before.

A feisty undercover plan, a furtive pirate with giggles from far away days, and then, just like that, things were beautiful once again.

Today, an unexpected parcel from a friend thought forgotten. Breakfast from a coworker who thought I needed a pick-me-up. The kids in bed at a reasonable hour. All around me, there are small mercies that lift me from one day to the next and show me, in this season of giving, that love and joy will come, even in the darkest moments, if you are open to receiving.