A holiday joy

Last Chances Might Actually Leave You Grateful

A few year end announcements, this will be the last post of 2024. I have a few changes in mind for Tales in 2025 that I will share in the new year. Also I’ll be picking “The beginning” back up soon after I return. This year end was too hectic to give it proper energy.

Sis helping with the decorations.

I'll finish this year with a post about what joy means to me during the holidays. Of course, joy arrives wrapped very differently for all people. For our kitty Sis, joy is being surrounded by Christmas decorations.

My first husband was Jewish. Though I grew up with Christmas, it was never a religious holiday for my small family. It was an American celebration, which I loved. I'm sure a few times in my youth, I accompanied friends to church during Christmas, but it wasn't something my parents shared with me.

A 20x16 picture of Jesus hung in our living room, and a wooden rendition of the Last Supper was above their bed. I don't remember conversations of God or Jesus. I was taught the Now I lay me down to sleep prayer. I couldn't tell you what my father believed. I only know a bit about my mom's beliefs because I spent 28 additional years with her and was with her in her dying moments. She believed in God; I'm sure of that. She also thought she had let herself and God down, so she was afraid of death. In the many years since, I have developed my own spiritual beliefs, but Christmas still remains for me an American holiday.

I say all of this to set the stage. In my first marriage, I chose to forego celebrating Christmas in our home to honor my husband's faith. I would have honored his faith and my joy if I had it to do over. But that's not to say I'm bitter about my choices. I just see in hindsight that I did not choose balance, and I believe it would have been healthier for the marriage if I had.

I was always fortunate to enjoy Christmas at our friends' homes or with my family. But I missed all the trimmings in our home, the red and the green, Christmas carols, lights lining the gutters, and the tree.

When I divorced, it took a few years to relinquish my guilt for deciding to celebrate Christmas once again. This was not a decision made out of animosity towards my ex, but rather a personal journey of acceptance and self-forgiveness.

Fast-forward, close to twenty years have passed. Missing the Yuletide festivities all those years has resulted in an almost childlike enjoyment of Christmas, and for that, I'm deeply grateful.

I insist on a real tree; as you've already read last week, I love a flocked tree. Decorating the tree is not just a task, but a pure expression of my love for Christmas. I make sure dinner requires little work so that I am free all afternoon and into the evening to play.

The tree ready to trim with White Christmas just beginning.

Rick and I add the lights to the tree, usually beginning around 3:00 p.m. By 4:30, the outside lights are already on, the sun is setting, the Paramount Pictures film White Christmas¹ is playing on whatever channel I can find it, I've got a Hot Toddy and some appetizers on hand, and I add each ornament with care.

I know every song in the movie by heart, and I'm either singing or humming along with Bing Crosby and the gang. Near the end of decorating, I sit on the couch, crying through the final 30 minutes of the movie. And Rick sits right beside me, making a noise in his throat that tells me he's also choking back tears. The film may be corny, but it celebrates goodness, camaraderie, and doing the right thing in a beautifully grand, old-fashioned way.

After so many years of listening to Bing sing “Count Your Blessings,” I have yet a new fondness for the song. A few years back, when I was lucky enough to hold a book signing at the local tasting room of Rosa-Lucca Estates in Cool, Tim, who has since become our friend, was working there. He also sang a cappella with a local quintet. He had become friendly with Rick and me, but didn't know us well then. At the end of the reading, he asked if he could share a song for the group. He sang “Count Your Blessings.” There wasn’t a dry eye in the house. The idea that he would sing such a random song, which I hold dear to my heart, was one of those moments that keep one believing in miracles.

I'll end this post with just a few of the lyrics and wish you all blessings over the holidays, even if happiness isn't within reach this Christmas.

If you're worried and you can’t sleep,
just count your blessings instead of sheep
and you'll fall asleep counting your blessings.

Give the gift of Tales of a Wayward Yogini with Sue Ferrera this holiday season.

1. We celebrated Thanksgiving this year in Los Angeles with Rick's daughter Sammie, her husband Scott, and his parents, Shelly and Pete. Sammie works for Paramount Studios and treated us to a fantastic tour while we were visiting. The various studios inside the grounds have plaques adorning the outside walls listing the movies filmed in each of them. I saw a few that listed White Christmas!