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The holidays take on so many different forms for each of us. Passion itself can be a confusing concept. In your moments of reflection, how would you say the seed of passion takes root in your life? How have childhood experiences of Christmas influenced your sense of the role of passion in your life?
To offer your thoughts, click on Comments, below.
Thank you for being a part of the Journal.
Erie
My passion and focus on family and faith where clearly branded from my first day on earth. Growing up there was never any question as to what was important or where value was. Family and Faith.
As I heard the stories of generations prior, of Papa ‘Ligha’ (Eligha), Ezekial, and Benoni (all grandfathers past); of the family being the center of the community;of the times where for others “money” did not exist (the depression) but for us it did not matter becasue we had our family, our faith, and our community I learned.
Spending every Christmas Eve at our midnight service with family and friends celebrating the joyful birth of our savior Jesus Christ. Waking up on Christmas morning and it taking Dad “forever” to get dressed so we could see what Santa had left. And spending last Christmas with my wife’s family know (but not wanting to believe) it would be her Dads last on this earth.
These events, times, lessons reaffirm my passion for the Garden of Love. Reaffirm my commitment to my family (including you) and focusing my commitment to purposful, healing, and yes radical loving care.
Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to all
Edwin
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This is a really nice question, Erie. When I reflect on how my chidlhood experiences of Christmas influence the role of passion in my life I am immediately brought into memories of excitement, joy, anticipation, celebration, and togetherness.These feelings permiate my childhood memories of Christmas. Yes, those were passionate times that shaped how I learned to be passionate in this world.
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I sit before a Christmas tree illumed with colorful lights in the quiet dark of morning. It is misty, wet, and cold out and I am cozy with the knowledge that I have the day off. The lights shimmer reflections on a dark wood floor opening a porthole to favorite times from long ago. As a child, I was just the right size to crawl under the Christmas tree to a secluded spot between the tree and wall. There I would lie on my back and gaze at the magical lights in anticipation of Christmas. It was a warm and peaceful place to be. That year, I received a toy dog from my grandmother that I came to love. He was animated, barked noisily, and could move around. I shared this memory with my son Lee once and for Christmas he bought me a similar little mechanical dog. I never fully appreciated the tender gesture of his gift until this morning.
As I reflect on today’s question, the Christmas tree alights with acceptance of self and others. I live in awareness of the fragile nature of my life, of my weakness and imperfections that lie hidden between the empty spaces and missing pieces as I experience Love’s vulnerability. The light illumines my heart with a Love that knows no bounds; it shines, amidst the brokenness and woundings of life, with great beauty and passion as gift offered in the truth of this moment.
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An excerpt of a reflection I wrote about the holidays is below.
Merry Christmas to all of you.
What I remember most about Christmases past were the family traditions and the most important fact of all: that we loved one another. For one magical day at least, my brother and sister and I went out of our way to be extra nice to each other. We couldn’t wait for the presents to be opened; as much to see the looks on the others’ faces as to see what we personally received. My mom always put together a sumptuous feast, usually consisting of ham, ambrosia salad, green beans with blanched almonds, candied yams like no one else can make, warm buttery dinner rolls and French apple pie. After the banquet, my sister and I cleaned up (she usually worked harder at this than I ). We sang in the kitchen, giddily making a ruckus as we struggled (but usually failed) to sing the 12 days of Christmas all the way through without making a mistake….was it 11 Drummers Drumming, or 10, or….? That was the fun, if we didn’t know for sure, we made it up – all the way down until we were able belt out with confidence “FIVE GOLDEN RINGS”. From that point on, it was a race to see who could get to the partridge in a pear tree first. After we exhausted our brains, and strained our throats and held our stomachs from laughter, we became more serious and sang Silver Bells. I think this was one of Janet’s favorites because she always wanted us to sing it. I took the lead and she provided her lovely deep alto.
There are so many sweet memories of Christmas in the Keith household, the love in the room so much more memorable and lasting that what was under the tree. As I watch my own children now during these times, I am thankful that they enjoy giving love as much as receiving it.
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We shall not cease from exploration, and the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and know the place for the first time.
T.S. Eliot
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