Fahoo Fores, Dahoo Dores

Christmas came early this year. Only I didn’t recognize it.

Summertime 2021 broke me open in a way I’ve never experienced before. I had a wish list with one item on it. Only it wasn’t a wish. It was a need. I clearly articulated my need; at the same time I communicated how I would need to care for myself.

It didn’t go well.

I quickly found myself with a longer wish list. Only once again, they weren’t wishes. They were needs. I needed help, nothing to offer in return except raw emotions – shock, anxiety, fury, grief.

By July, boxes and bags were distributed – no fancy paper, ribbons, or bows.

In exchange for a place to sleep, I offered up my time and energy to assemble furniture; to take care of cats, dogs, gardens, houses, and yards.

As summer came to an end, friends offered their help once again as I entered my new home. Boxes and bags returned, unopened.

October’s darkening days ushered in a dismal theory, hastily wrapped and presented as a compliment: People helped you because of the role you fill; because you are needed in that role. What would they do without you?

Late Fall brings budget season, followed quickly by holiday season, leaving me little time to continue pondering, sorting, making sense of it all.

My kitchen, normally a hub of baking activity throughout December, remains quiet.

I purchase colored lights for my tree, a gift from me, to me. And I smile every time those lights catch my eye.

I am empty-handed and I receive. Yummy treats from friends, cards in my mailbox, treasures wrapped specially for me.

And I love it all. And I offer my thanks.

Christmas Eve rolls around, and a friend casually asks me what Christmas traditions I will engage in. And I come face to face with the knowledge that I have none left. Painfully, awareness wells up in me: I’ve still got boxes and bags to unpack. The heaviness of this task weighs me down, a dim reflection of my inner world.

Christmas morning, as I run, the Storyteller and Meaning Giver arrives and offers a question that lifts me out of my inner chaos: How long has it been since you received anything without having the lingering feeling deep down inside that you must find something to offer in return?

And Christmas arrived.

Has been arriving.

Slowly, painfully, creeping up on me.

In me.

Yes, Christmas came to me this year. I realized those boxes didn’t need wrapping, ribbons, or bows. They were packed, delivered, stored, and returned with love, with concern for my well-being. By people who tended my broken heart, clasped my empty hands, and reminded me that I am part of a greater WE.

Until, at last, I believed it.

And now, more than anything, I want to share time with people. My people. Not because I owe anybody anything, not in return for countless kindnesses shown. Rather, simply because I want to enjoy their presence. And I am oddly confident that my presence is welcomed and enjoyed as well.

And with the Who’s in Whoville, I joyously sing:

Welcome Christmas come this way
Fahoo fores dahoo dores
Welcome Christmas, Christmas day

Welcome, welcome fahoo ramus
Welcome, welcome dahoo damus
Christmas day is in our grasp
So long as we have hands to clasp

Fahoo fores dahoo dores
Welcome Christmas bring your cheer
Fahoo fores dahoo dores
Welcome all Whos far and near

Welcome Christmas, fahoo ramus
Welcome Christmas, dahoo damus
Christmas day will always be
Just so long as we have we

Fahoo fores dahoo dores
Welcome Christmas bring your light

Fahoo fores dahoo dores
Welcome Christmas, Christmas day

Welcome Christmas, fahoo ramus
Welcome Christmas, dahoo damus
Welcome Christmas while we stand
Heart to heart and hand in hand

Fahoo fores dahoo dores
Welcome welcome Christmas day
Welcome, welcome Christmas day

_{Songwriters: Theodor S. Geisel / Albert Hague
© Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC}