A Long December

The holidays are taking their time reaching my grinchy heart this year, and I keep thinking sad and kind of hopeless thoughts. I've started listening to NPR in the car, which is not helping - whether the topic is this criminal administration or the too-long-ignored crisis of global warming, just driving around town is starting to affect my blood pressure. I am thinking too long and hard about big things I can't fix, can't even touch, and I'm starting to shrink in my own view. And then here at home, with my children to ground me and make me feel present and necessary, I am fretful and ineffectively concerned about someone I love. Her sadness is as big and far from my reach as anything on NPR.

For Christmas this year, I have more wishes to give than gifts. My wishes for my friend: That your sentence of grief is not long, and that time blunts the edge of pain soon, so you can visit your sweeter memories without getting hurt. That the world surprises you with moments of grace and beauty, now while you're doubting its capacity for goodness. That the friends and family you nurture so lovingly are able to reach you through your sorrow, so you know you're never alone.