What Will You Create This Christmas?
A holiday challenge
Nothing shows character like the way you behave in a parking lot close to Christmas. People cram and honk and curse and steal spots and leave shopping carts in inconvenient places. A season that should bring out the best in us seems to do the opposite in most.
I'm an INFJ according to the Myers Briggs scale. I abhor chaos and hate conflict. I make a point of parking towards the back of the lot. I won't fight over a spot. It's never worth it. I'm a peace-maker at heart. I drive a wee Chevy Sonic. Just about anything could push me out of the way if it chose to. I'm okay with that. I concede. This doesn't mean that I'm of high moral standard, but it means I'm willing to humble myself to the back of a parking lot in the hopes that someone won't have a ranging fit of fist waging and through-the-windshield hollering. (I know what you're saying, sir. I can see your lips moving. Merry Chucking Christmas to you, too.)
In a time that should be overflowing with peace on earth, too often we rush around like half-roasted turkeys, exhausted but determined that this will be The Best Christmas EVER! But what does that even mean?
It's all subjective. My best is not your best. But we're all better than screaming in a parking lot, right?
No matter your upbringing, your religion, or your creed, this is a time of year to count blessings, to take stock of the past, and to look forward with anticipation.
Tomorrow morning I will sleep in. The children will bounce beside me as we wait for the coffee to brew. And as my husband and I sip from steaming cups (his with a teaspoon of sugar and mine with a splash of eggnog) stockings will be opened and we'll all pretend we believe a fat man in a red suit broke into our house in the middle of the night. I'll make a huge breakfast. Presents will be unwrapped. The annual jigsaw puzzle will be started. We'll still be in pajamas at noon when the Raptors play and we won't care when we're still in our pajamas at dinner time.
The best thing about our annual tradition is the cozy sense of calm. That's what I need Christmas to be. Christmas is the sweet knowledge that I've created this space in which my family can enjoy the company of one another without flashiness or glamour (or pants, for that matter).
It's cliché to say that Christmas is what you make it, but it's the truth. A thing is only as good as what you pour into it. (Isn't that why people add rum to eggnog? 😏) If you're a writer or an artist you're always creating. Day after day, new things are crafted from your imagination. This gift you have, it will spill out in other ways: in the table settings or the wrapping paper, in the carols you hum in the kitchen or the footprints you make in the snow. There is no end to creating when you're a creator, and that means Christmas is a blank canvas upon which you can reinvent the story.
So what will it be? Chaos in parking lots? Stress and frenzy? Or will you park at the back? Can you take a paintbrush and soften the edges just a little? What if your pen wrote a scene where laughter was highlighted above sticker price? Christmas is your opportunity to create magic. Your creativity is a gift to unwrap on the world.
Over this holiday season I wish you many opportunities to foster creative energy. I wish you inspiration and passion. I wish you moments of calm to fill with ideas. I wish you motivation and space in which to pursue goals. Take a little time for yourself. Write a poem. Go for a walk. Find your little slice of peace on earth and cherish it. 2019 has been a great year and hard year for many reasons. May you leave it behind, recognizing the growth it brought, and celebrate the genesis of 2020 with eyes set on a bright new year.
Merry Christmas!
Alanna Rusnak
Blank Spaces Editor-in-Chief
