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Reality has hit hard this year

Mary Jane Holt is the author of "You Are Somebody and I am, too!" You can write to her at maryjaneholt@aol.com

Throughout my life there has never been a time when paper and pen failed me. Well into adulthood, I always knew when and how to pick up my pen and find relief for whatever ailed me. So, you can imagine how caught off guard I have been over the past two weeks when writing suddenly became impossible.

If there is one thing I can claim to be, it is real, and when I write I become even more real. Well, the truth is, reality can be hard to face sometimes.

Tell me (please, literally tell me at 770-460-5000 or www.maryjaneholt.com): do the holidays ever get to be a bit much for you? If they ever have, if they always do, or if this is just your year, too, please feel free to share your thoughts with me. I will go first; then you can tell me your story later.

Since I hosted a high school class reunion in October, 2003, I have lost three classmates. Two passed over following long term battles with cancer. One died suddenly with a heart attack. Now, another, who was only recently diagnosed with cancer, is already in hospice, very sick, and in tremendous pain. Still another is recuperating from brain surgery last Thursday.

And there’s more. I met the most wonderful new neighbor this year. Sheila is a phenomenal woman, truly one of a kind. Instantly, I wanted to know her well. Trouble is, I never met her until after she had been diagnosed with the cancer that is now ravaging her body.

Another neighbor is trying to regain strength from recent open-heart surgery. Then this week, my friend Barbara, who has been so extraordinarily special to me for nearly 25 years, had to have a triple heart bypass at age 54!

All this, while my baby sister who is struggling with a chronic and debilitating problem is back at the Mayo Clinic once more in search of help and hope.

There you have it, sort of. So, what do I do about all this? Between prayers, I decorated. I decided I wanted my Christmas season on the home front to have a tailored “controlled” decorating theme this year. At least I thought I did.

Just when I really didn’t think my heart could stand any more turmoil, I finished what decorating I had resolved to do in preparation for all the family events that somehow manage to unfold at my house (I would not have it any other way!), and suddenly I missed my mother.

Well, actually I didn’t miss my mother, I missed my “mama.” It’s been eleven years ago since she died and I do so well all year, but not at Christmas.

And this year, I am especially not doing well without her. I dug out her orange cake recipe and checked to be sure I had all the ingredients. Then I sat down and cried. That was three days ago. Today I cried again for Barbara’s and Jackie’s and Bobby’s and Sheila’s pain.

Then I dried my tears, went upstairs and dug out a couple of packs of gold icicles (tinsel) which I almost never use because the elusive strands can be so messy, but I buy them occasionally because Mama always used them.

Well, I opened those two packets of gold tinsel that have been stashed away, unused for years, and hung half of them on my tree with it’s far too tailored trailing ribbons and massive bow. Then I started to sprinkle the shiny gold strands all around my house. Live plants and artificial arrangements in every room now shimmer with a sprinkling of tinsel.

Tacky was a very understated description of my mom’s holiday décor (all holidays!). But “tacky” has grown on me over time (especially over the past decade). You wouldn’t believe how much comfort that gold tinsel is presently giving to me.

If you also are struggling with sadness this year, I invite you to write to me. It will do me good to know I am not the only sad person just now and it might do you good to pick up pen and paper; I highly recommend such therapy!

If you prefer snail mail, write to me in care of this newspaper, mark the envelope “personal” and the editors will forward it to me. Joy is multiplied when we share it, and thankfully, sadness is often diminished with expression. May God bless you and yours during this still very magical season that always somehow enhances both our joy and our sadness.