I’m not going to say it. Christmas is----days away. I’m not going to say it. I want you to just enjoy your day today, and not get all bunched up about an impending holiday and all the preparations that go into said holiday.
I’m thinking Christmas, when we really enjoy it the most, is a state of being. We tell ourselves we’re supposed to be filled with good cheer. Ho, Ho, Ho, and all that. We’re supposed to enjoy our gatherings with family and friends. We’re supposed to buy gifts and enjoy gift giving. Those things are not bad, they’re good. And yet, sometimes the season feels fake; it’s in our mind but not our heart. We have to muster up enough pleasure in traditions to care very much. Where is the joy in our hearts, the sense of peace on earth, the satisfaction of making others happy?
I say, it can become less than joyful when our state of being is something else. And sometimes our state is troubled or going through the motions, wishing we were genuinely peaceful.
Noël Hartely, the heroine in my newest release, Nutcracker Sweet, is facing Christmas in a state of grief and sorrow. Christmas everywhere is a blast of frigid air, because the first anniversary of her sister Regina’s death is upon her.
Christmas magic is not there either for the hero, Jonah Grant. As a firefighter, he should have saved Noël’s sister. Her death haunts him, now more than ever.
Here’s an excerpt from Nutcracker Sweet:
Ringing in Jonah’s ears drowned out all other sounds in the grocery story. He backed behind a shelf of pistachio nuts and pumpkin and chia seeds to gather his composure. He was the last person Noël would want to run into. No, there wouldn’t be any small talk between Reggie’s sister and the fireman responsible for Reggie’s death.
His pulse raced. Get a grip, man. If he could make his feet move, he would march out to the street and keep marching until he could disappear inside Cranberry Cove Fire Station Four.
But he stayed still, letting his body come back to life. This wasn’t the first time their paths had nearly crossed, but each time he had gone through the same whole-body shut down. He couldn’t ever escape what happened that night at Reggie’s house when her wood stove had caught fire.
It was a firefighter’s nightmare, his dad had said, himself a former firefighter. But the words hadn’t helped because the facts remained that he’d gone into the fire and a young woman died anyway.
He shook his head. No, he couldn’t go to the memory pit right now, not here. He peeked around the shelving unit and caught a glimpse of Noël as she headed toward the bread aisle. This was his chance. At six-foot-four, he felt like the green giant as he moved away from his hiding place. Briskly, his head down, he strode down the aisle toward his escape.
“Excuse me, could you help me get that box of crackers on the top shelf?”
The female voice sounded familiar and he looked up, ready to assist the woman. His heart stopped. Please floor, open up and swallow me now.
It was Noël Hartley, standing two feet away and asking for help. She blinked, twice, and swayed a tiny bit. It was a very quiet sound, but he heard her gasp.
“I’m sorry.” The words just fell out. “I mean, sure.” He couldn’t move.
She held his gaze, silently, for a full, frozen minute. “Hi, Jonah. Do you mind?” She pointed to a box of seven grain, sea salt crackers. “Please? I’m five-foot-six, but that’s a tall shelf.”
She had to justify asking for help? So she was nervous, and that made him sick. He grabbed the box and handed it to her, his arms were heavy logs. “Just one box?”
She slanted her head, and his pulse sped up. Cute was not a strong enough word to assign to her face. Cad.
“No, two would be better.”
He gave her another box and paused, their eyes meeting again. His mouth went dry. Words, where were his words? Nerves rattled in his head. “I came in to get something for dinner, but I don’t know…” He let the sentence drop and studied the shelves. The boxes blurred into a mass of indistinguishable colors.
She chuckled lightly, and it steadied his rambling thoughts. “Me too. I have to pick up things for a dinner, anyway.” She chewed on her lip, drawing his attention to them.
His heart ached for her. The apologies he had made to her and her family just after the fire were the last words he’d spoken about the tragedy with them. His words had been so inadequate that thinking of them now he felt his skin blanch. He lifted his gaze and found Noël searching his face.
“Jonah,” her expression got very somber, “I don’t hold any hard feelings for you. Don’t feel uncomfortable for what happened.” She dropped her gaze, but not before he saw her pain. Then she perked up. “It’s been almost a year. I’m fine. I hope you are too. Now, I need to finish my shopping. Good luck with finding your dinner.”
So we’re going to gloss over everything wrong. She was not fine, and that crunched his heart.
A death near the holidays is truly awful. But other things can be awful, too, and detract from what we want to feel. Family issues can be difficult, even at Christmas. Finances can create drudgery when all we want it to give our loved ones hearts their hearts’ desires.
No matter, I believe we can become that state of being that Christmas means to us, it may take a little centering, a little pausing, a little reflection but it’s there it in your heart.
To see how Noel and Jonah find it peace and meaning at Christmas, find Nutcracker Sweet on Amazon
2 comments:
The older I get the more I feel this is true. Here's hoping we can all find Christmas in our hearts!
I read someone say today, that the older they get the less they enjoy Christmas. I think that's true for a lot of people. It becomes a chore rather than a holiday, as much as we all love the idea of holiday spirit. :)
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