Sending holiday cards to family and friends seemed nonessential in 2020; surely, I wasn’t the only one who felt uninspired at Christmastime. The idea of addressing envelopes to loved ones or decking the halls with boughs of holly weren’t my top priorities. Not unlike The Grinch, the holiday spirit wasn’t on my radar during the pandemic. So, I dug my heels into teaching virtually five days a week, while distancing myself from news updates about rising mortality rates; that alone made me feel spirited—and alive—but, somehow, I overlooked the true meaning of the season.
During the third week of December, my husband had surreptitiously set up a Christmas surprise, although I was too preoccupied to notice. While I was busy tutoring, he had tiptoed upstairs to the attic, unboxed our pre-lit tree and carried it down to the living room, decorated the branches with shimmery ornaments, and secured a beautiful angel on top. He must’ve been very excited to display the Christmas goodies, like we’d done every year in the past, and he probably hoped I’d peek outside of my studio to see what he was doing; but that never happened.
At lunchtime, I walked quickly past the living room to the kitchen—still focused on work—where our college-age son was preparing a sandwich and humming Christmas tunes. He smiled at me with child-like excitement and asked if I’d noticed anything different. I glanced around the room, but nothing registered. He didn’t say a word about the seven-foot silver fur that was just around the corner. I figured he’d share his secret with me later; so, I grabbed a handful of chips, kissed his cheek, and disappeared down the hall for several more hours.
Just before dinnertime, after a long day of work, I moseyed towards the kitchen and noticed twinkling, colorful lights in the darkness. The Christmas tree, with all of its brilliance and splendor, had caught my eye. I stopped, mid-step, and stared at the festive lights in the living room. That’s when it hit me; I had allowed the stress of COVID-19 to wipe out the magic of the season. Suddenly, the weight of my mistake was profoundly noticeable, and I knew what needed to be done.
After a quick dose of humility, I apologized for my absentmindedness. Yes, Christmas was still meaningful to our son, even during the pandemic. And, yes, upholding family traditions—whether or not we felt emotionally connected, despite the quarantine’s limitations—was still essential. It was a reminder to never take family for granted; and to pay attention to the little gifts, like playful smiles reminiscent of years gone by. It was a nudge in the right direction, and a reminder to pay attention to what matters most.
Gina Wileman is a published author (My Twisted Life In Middle School: Best Friends & Bullies) and the owner of EUREKA! Tutoring (EurekaTutoring-SMILES.com), where she offers in-studio and virtual tutoring sessions for students (grades K-12). She homeschooled her son for ten years (2003-2013) and was a networking group facilitator of hikes, field trips, classes, plays, and club events for homeschool families in southern California. Gina loves teaching and mentoring students, writing books and blogs, listening to personal-growth podcasts, furthering her spiritual development, and creating allergy-friendly recipes. Mostly, she cherishes time spent with her husband, son, and two shih-tzu pups.
