I'm a little better- but no less insulted- regarding yesterday's entry. Anyway- it's the Winter Solstice. I can let it go~

I've been thinking about the holidays- and what they mean to me... Odd little sentence. It sounds like it would start a third grader's essay...

I remember when I was little, Christmas was such a different time. Sleigh rides in the snow and castles made of the stuff- I buried myself in the winter landscape, played with our animals and generally existed out of doors. Gentle snowflakes falling is still one of my favorite things about the holidays. I wish that I still had my snowsuits... I still have my childhood imagination, so warm mittens and swishy-swishy pants are the only thing I need!

I remember the sound of snow pants. I hated it! If I wanted to go out into the woods and find deer and generally commune with nature, I had the barrier of swishiness to overcome. No fox, bird or mammal in general is going to NOT notice a pudgy little girl in copious amounts of polyester and stuffing. I was so bundled, I thought I'd die.

I was always so cold and so tired and so soaking when I finally came in at night. My sister was right behind me throughout the day- helping me envision the castle that became a fort... that finally became a drift after all of our playing. We rolled snow men and rode our ponies while our laughter could be heard throughout the valley.

Now, at Christmas... things are different. I no longer play in the snow or worry about what Santa might bring me... I am consumed by the eternal hope that I may give some gift of joy to those I love. I plan- I work very hard... and then I create. I hand-made most every present this year. Even though the stress of completing everything weighed heavily on my mind... it was a different kind of stress. I no longer worried about sales and malls. I worried about the amount of love and dedication being put into each object. I worried about showing the person exactly how much I loved them.

Isn't that silly? I sometimes don't think about being silly. I worry if the person knows how much I care- and assume that Christmas is the only time I can show them. That's not true. And I'm beginning to understand that. I try my hardest to show people love and compassion... and I do this every day of the year. I used to assume this wasn't enough... I was wrong.

Good will towards men. This holiday season, I have not seen much of it. I've looked for it! The random acts of kindness that fill me. Instead, I have seen hate, unhappiness, fear and dread. What strange bedfellows for this time of year!

I won't dwell on it. But I have noticed it.

The holidays mean something different to each of us. Do you know what the holidays mean to me?

The simple joy of making a snow angel is far more precious than the sale at the mall. The act of creating a gift is far more precious than purchasing one. The act of simple kindness is FAR MORE PRECIOUS than the unkind moments we all allow ourselves to have, now and again.

It's the holidays. There will, naturally, be stress. But, thousands of years ago, people gathered on this day and acknowledged the extent of the darkness- both from within and without. They realized that it existed, they called it what it was and turned their backs on it. They lit fires and candles and joys and sang and celebrated- calling out to the light to come back to them.

And it did.

The Return of the Light. The Winter Solstice.

No one ever knows the extent of their actions and words. Be kind. Be good. Be light.

Happy Holidays, my friends.