So this is Christmas

Day 1
The Twelve Days of Christmas Blessings at the Shelter

I had to be in at the shelter this morning at 5:30am to meet a camera crew. It is a busy time at the shelter. People are being awoken. Some, don't want to wake up. Some, don't want to move along. Get going. Get up and get into their day. Some, would rather cling to sleep, to those last vestiges of whatever dream they were immersed in, to prolong the rude awakening to another day, just like yesterday, where scarcity and lack and homelessness are their reality.

It is a busy time of day. A busy time of year, or, as one staff said this morning, 'tis the crazy season.

The season when those who call the shelter home feel, deep down on a soulful level, who is missing, what is lacking, who is gone, who is not there, where we are not, the tables and families and friends with whom we were once connected.

For some, it will be their first Christmas carrying the label, "Homeless". No matter how long, however, they've been homeless, each year brings different challenges, different experiences.

So this is Christmas.


This is a new experience Christmas for me too. My eldest daughter Alexis moved away in November and will be arriving home for Christmas on the 16th. We're holding off putting up the tree, turning the house into a Christmas festival until her arrival. It just wouldn't be the same without her.

I remember Christmas' past when the girls were little and we would decorate and bake and sing and dance and laugh together. Times when we had Christmas carolling parties and invited our friends and family to come and celebrate with us-- a meal, some cheer and then to wander the streets of our neighbourhood singing songs of good tidings and joy. Santa came to those parties. The children's' eyes would widen. They'd race to greet him asking, "Where's your reindeer? Am I on your list? Did you get my letter?"

Alexis wasn't fond of Santa. She didn't like the big stuffed mascots either who walked around the Christmas Tree display with the hope of entertaining children. She would cry out in dismay, cling to my neck and ask them to go away.

Big furry mascots weren't her thing. What she loved was the activity of Christmas. Baking cookies. Cutting out decorations. Stringing the tree with lights. She and her sister Liseanne would argue over who's turn it was to put the angel at the top. "Mum, she did it last year. Remember?" "Mum, let her make me do it." Some years, they'd settle their differences by declaring, "Mum. It's your turn this year."

I remember Christmas Eve of years past. Sitting quietly in the late of night, wrapping presents, making bows, listening to music as I sipped a glass of wine.

They were some of my favourite times. Those quiet late night/early mornings where the girls slept together in one bed -- it has been and continues to be their tradition -- and I would sit in the living room surrounded by the smells and sounds and feelings of Christmas. To know that two such precious and amazing gifts lay wrapped up together in a blanket, tucked in, whispering and giggling (they always pretended to be sleeping when I'd peek in the door) always brought tears to my eyes, melted my heart in the warm glow of love that can never end. Eventually, they really would fall asleep and in the morning, I would open their bedroom door and discover the greatest gift I have ever received. My daughters. Love that lives forever.

I am blessed.

Here at the shelter, the Christmas season has come. Lights twinkle on the floors. Trees stand sentry in the corners, their lights tiny beacons in the early morn. Parcels and packages are arriving. Some have names on them as they've come through the Christmas WishList just for John C. or Linda W. or Jordan F. Within each parcel is the thing they asked for, their "All I want for Christmas" wish.

It is all they can ask for. For many of them, most probably, the thing they long for most is what they cannot find, cannot have, cannot ask someone else to give them. A way back home.

For many, that road is blocked by addictions, family violence, divorce, death, mental health issues.

For many, the road home is a long journey that begins each morning when they awaken and face another day in this place called homelessness.

For many, the road home will begin when they open their gift Christmas morning and discover the thing they wished for is really there. That thing they asked for, the warm winter gloves, the new sweater, the book, the bathrobe, really has been given. And in that moment of finding their wish fulfilled, trust awakens. Hope arises. Possibility opens up.

We never know what possibility one gift can bring. We never know how deeply someone will be touched, what can happen when a stranger cares enough to give the thing you've asked for.

What I do know is, this Christmas, no matter how crazy, for those so far from home, the road back will begin with awakening on Christmas morning to find, someone cared enough to make a difference in their life.

What a blessing.

So, This is Christmas.

Where ever you are this year, look around you, reach out, find a place, a way, a someone, a stranger, a friend who needs something you can give.

Find someone to share you love and joy so that we create a circle of caring hearts opening up to the wonder of being alive on Christmas morning to receive the greatest gift of all. Love.

And on Christmas morning, I hope, like me, you open someone's door and discover the greatest gift you have ever received.

The YouTube video is from a man's home in Katy, Texas. Every year he strings it with lights that dance and sparkle in time to John Lennon's "so this is Christmas".