I wish it would look alot more like Christmas.

broken-ornament-195x195

Readers, forgive me, for I have sinned – it’s been nearly three weeks since my last post. It’s Christmas. I love Christmas – love it, love it, love it. So why don’t I do what I always do when I get excited about something – blabber relentlessly about it until people either succumb or go away? As usual, the reasons for my writer’s block are not entirely clear. I’ve been ridiculously busy lately. To the point of bloodshed. I’m usually busy anyway – in fact, I’m not sure there’s been any point over the past ten years (coincidentally, the amount of time for which I’ve been a parent) that I could say I wasn’t busy. Add the whirlwind of decorating, baking, buying, posting, hosting and partying that Christmas brings with it, and I’ve got a great excuse for not writing. However, last year, I wrote pages about Christmas – during Christmas. So having lots going on can’t be the only answer.

I think it’s more likely that many of my reasons for e-silence are all in my head. My mind is even busier than my body. I’ve been feeling dragged down and snowed under by what’s going on. (Thank you, Marvin Gaye, for that smooth groove ….)  Bullying that persists until children feel they have no choice but to put an end to themselves. Horrific cases of abuse surfacing, presented in all the lurid detail the press is so good at applying. Mass shootings. Natural disasters. Russia running roughshod over eastern Ukraine. Terrorism curling its tendrils into every country. Evil people finding each other and forging allegiances. ISIL destroying human lives and ancient cities and everyone’s faith in humanity. The crush of Syrian refugees risking everything for freedom, and meeting rejection instead of open arms – and little Alan Kurdi facedown in the sand on a Turkish beach. Hatred flowing from keyboards onto the internet and screaming at me. Grey-sky days and buckets of rain on the lifeless ground where there’s usually a blanket of white by now. Donald Trump, for the love of orange faux fur. Come to think of it, maybe 4 Non Blondes are a better choice for all this than Marvin Gaye.

I’m usually a fairly optimistic person, and I’ve been preparing for Christmas – and treasuring the preparations – like I do every year. But I feel like every time I try to write there’s s0me fresh hell to contemplate, thanks to our troubled world and the inescapable hisses and shrieks of social media – and a lump in my throat. On the other hand, as I said earlier, I wrote oodles of Christmas content last year. And it’s all still true this year – and maybe worth sharing again. So I’m going to add another sin to my writer’s rap sheet: reusing content. I’m going to re-post what I said last Christmas, and maybe I’ll cheer myself up rereading it.

Here’s the first Christmassy post I created last year, on December 1:

“Have a holly, jolly Christmas! No, really, you can …. here’s how.”

 

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