“The pain of Christmas!” Mary Evans sighed as she stood back to survey the tree. She had paid twice as much for the noble pine as she had meant to, but it was the one Diana had wanted, and she didn’t want to disappoint her. Quite frankly, she herself would not have been satisfied with a smaller tree and certainly not one of those on special at K-Mart. It was rare to find one this fresh, and its pungent odor permeated their small apartment.
“God, how it hurts! Is it worth the ritual?” she asked herself. Mary chose a red Christmas ball, another one, then a blue ball, then gold, now a fat smiling Santa. She hung each one carefully on the full green boughs. Cardboard boxes lay in disarray on the living room floor. She reflected on past Christmases. How many years had she been doing this, handling these same shiny ornaments, arranging the same nativity scene, setting out the same old candle holders, the fairy doll, the beloved stuffed Santa Claus for the mantle, only this year there was no mantle for there was no fireplace. No fireplace! What about the stockings? We always hung the stockings over the fireplace. Mary remembered the many times she would say, “Of course, there is a Santa Claus, just as long as you believe in him. I will always believe in him.” And the subject was ended, year after year, even when her older children were long past the age of believing, they joined in for little Diana. Now it was a game that they all continued. Mysteriously, the stockings, even Mary’s were filled on Christmas morning, with all sorts of little surprises, a delicious surprise such as a favorite candy bar, perhaps a lovely small bar of sweet-smelling soap, a pair of stockings or lingerie, or even a silly toy. One never knew what the jolly old elf would leave. “Well, we’ll just have to hang our stockings somewhere else so Santa can find them.” She took out four stockings, each was carefully folded away in a shoe box. There was Diana’s, the newest, and Jan’s, the oldest, and a pretty, but somewhat tattered one, Peggy’s. Peggy had always carried hers around with her for days after Christmas, taking her little gifts out one by one and looking at them, then carefully putting them all back, as though to make the holiday last longer. Jan’s stocking was still in perfect condition, though a little faded. She always took such good care of her things, even as a small child, and though she always wanted to keep hers out for a few days, she carefully placed her gifts on display, on top of the stocking until Christmas was over. The two older girls would arrive on Christmas day. They would be spending Christmas Eve with their father in another city. It would be hard this year with just Diana at home on Christmas morning Mary thought, but she resolved to make every effort to be cheerful. The two of them would open their stockings together on Christmas morning but would wait for Jan and Peggy to exchange their gifts around the tree. This would be their first Christmas to be separated as a whole family. She sensed it was even more difficult for the children than herself, the anticipation of the most sacred and celebrated of Christian holidays, as a fragmented family.
Mary’s thoughts of Diana, asleep now in her room nearby, trusting her mother to do all the right things for Christmas, while she herself struggled to hang onto her childhood another year by asking for a Barbie doll and a pogo stick. The realism of divorce had forced her out of the perpetual childhood fantasy, “they lived happily ever after” for it wasn’t to be, at least not her family.
“I’m sick of pretending!” Mary thought. “The joy of remembering how alone I am. The joy of knowing I’ve overspent yet bought so little. The joy of faceless, uncaring crowds of Christmas shoppers. The joy of having two glorious days off from my job to celebrate. Celebrate what? Life is a bitch! Oh, God!” She felt the sting of tears in her eyes. “Stop it,” she gasped to herself. “It won’t help to cry. Nothing will help. You’re caught, caught in life’s miserable trap!” In the silence of the small apartment, with her mother’s antique clock making the only sound with its steady tick-tock which only an old clock can make, her mind raced on, as though unable to quell the thoughts. “Were you really happy before, Mary? Be honest now, even with all the family together were you happy?” She refused to let thoughts of John enter now. She had trained herself to keep him out. She used to dwell on John, the living drama, before the divorce, perhaps the most difficult time for her, and him, and then the emptiness of their lives when he was gone. But there had been a void before he was gone, too. “What a short memory you have, Mary.”
Mary hung the last of the icicles on the tree and walked over to the Christmas cards she had hung neatly on the brass try, with scotch tape. It gave her a warm feeling to know their old friends still remembered her at Christmas. There was the Griffin’s card, “We’re mailing early this year; off to Hawaii for two weeks.” She grimaced with a twinge of jealousy. She had hoped she and John would be able to travel some now that all the children, but Diana were grown. She could stay with her older sisters for a few weeks, surely. But now that would never be. “I wonder if I’ll ever get to Hawaii?” With a stab in her heart, she remembered John had gone on a cruise with his new bride. She had heard it through one of the children. She glanced at some of the other cards, each with a warm message to her and the children. A few who had not heard of the divorce wrote to the two of them. “What on earth do I do with the cards to both of us? Forward them after Christmas?” She left her question unanswered and continued to look at the other cards. “May the blessing of Christmas give you Peace,” read one. She read it again and pondered, “The Blessing of Christmas – peace.” “Peace,” she silently repeated it. Then formed her lips around the word and said aloud, “Peace.” It was a condition she had not experienced for months, perhaps years. In her frantic search had she forgotten where to look? It’s up to me to look in the right places. To discover God’s blessings. “Can one find peace through bitterness and anger?” “Can one find peace when there is revenge in one’s heart?” “Was the Christ child given to us so we could be happy or sad over an annual holiday badly abused by the masses? Or was his birth a blessing?”
“What is wrong with me, going on so,” thought Mary. “I’m not irreligious, but I am certainly not overly religious,” she told herself. “Of course, I’m bitter and sad. Darn it all, life is a struggle! Divorce is bad. I didn’t want it, but John wanted out. But one can’t force a marriage to last if half the partnership wants out. It’s up to you now, Mary! Take it or leave it!”
“Can you make it alone? Of course, you can make it! You’ve been blessed with lovely children; you have a brain. Use it! You’re supporting yourself, aren’t’ you? Are you dependent on another person for your very happiness? Of course not. It’s your responsibility. You’ve got a chance to make a new beginning. Take it.”
When the lecture was over, Mary felt a release she could not explain. She was grateful for the silent time she had had finishing up the tree. Diana had gone to bed earlier, exhausted from shopping for the tree and struggling with Mary to put it up in the small living room, then helping her get the lights on, and the first of the Christmas balls. Tomorrow they would do some last-minute baking, their usual Christmas cookies which they would roll out and cut into shapes and decorate as they always did.
Mary surveyed the tree. The room seemed warmer and friendlier now. The empty silence that had permeated it before now wrapped itself around Mary like a warm blanket. The Christmas season had not been easy for her or Diana, though they had laughed and talked excitedly about Christmas, Mary had successfully smothered the hurt still hiding in her heart, and she suspected Diana had done the same. Their time together was precious these days, and they wanted Christmas to come alive for them another year. Carols were playing on the radio now. Mary turned off the bright living room lights. Only soft tree lights twinkled in the darkened room. She sang along softly with the carol playing on the radio. “Joy to the World, the Lord is Come, Let Earth receive her King. Let every heart Rejoice….” Mary had received her Christmas Blessing. “Thank you, God”, she prayed. She tiptoed into Diana’s room, covered her, and turned out the lights.