Romanticized in memory, my childhood Christmases were festive gatherings of extended family: a few dozen tipsy adults and hyperactive kids on a marathon of feasting and fun\u2014shiny happy people,<\/i> as the R.E.M song goes, holding hands.<\/i> That is how I choose to remember those days, despite the fact that many such event crescendoed with embattled wills and harmful words between adults and kids alike, then collapsed into a communal meltdown of whiny crabby people shaking fists. One year, I\u2019m told, two of my great uncles on the Italian side ended a yelling match by ripping the Thanksgiving turkey in half and never speaking to each other again.<\/p>\n
It seems to me that unless we interact with our relatives on a daily basis, by sharing a common goal or at least checking up on each other, we simply cannot know whom they have grown up to be in heart and mind. Unshared, our life experiences (and journeys toward or away from faith) can render us strangers, even enemies, to one another by the time holidays or major life events bring us back together under one roof.<\/p>\n
This year\u2014beyond the sacred Christmas Vigil, and a quiet Christmas morning planned with Kevin and the kids\u2014I don\u2019t know what to expect from family. While gatherings with Kevin\u2019s relations are usually harmonious and relaxing, certain branches on my family tree are still gnarled and brittle. Some of us, I\u2019m glad to report, will converge for a long overdue reunion; others have politely declined; yet others are cursing the audacity of a public reconciliation when they are still licking private wounds. In defense of the latter, I\u2019ve not been wounded myself and so cannot presume that time\u2019s healing job is complete. At the same time, I\u2019m zealously impatient with people who seem so attached to their pain that they mistake it for comfort.<\/p>\n
Minding my own business when\u2014to paraphrase writer Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn\u2014acrimony threatens to \u201camputate the family memory\u201d of happier times is a great struggle. But I refuse to stop believing, as one relative demanded, that my \u201challucinated\u201d God can hear and answer my \u201cpointless\u201d prayers that the family will once again \u201cjoin hands and sing \u2018Kumbaya.\u2019\u201d<\/p>\n
The drama and dynamics of my extended family may be greater or lesser than yours. Either way, if you\u2019re like me, family rifts are especially heartbreaking at Christmastime. What, if anything, can we do to restore peace? Can we justify separation from a family member because \u201cit\u201d wasn\u2019t our fault? Do we think it\u2019s enough that we get along with this sister and that uncle and other relatives we can more easily tolerate? Jesus says, in Luke 6, that there\u2019s nothing impressive about loving those who love you and doing good to those who do good to you; \u201ceven sinners do the same.\u201d The challenge is to \u201cbe merciful, just as your Father is merciful.\u201d<\/p>\n
A merciful Christmas\u2026it just might make shiny happy people of us all.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Romanticized in memory, my childhood Christmases were festive gatherings of extended family: a few dozen tipsy adults and hyperactive kids on a marathon of feasting and fun\u2014shiny happy people, as the R.E.M song goes, holding hands. That is how I choose to remember those days, despite the fact that many such event crescendoed with embattled […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":9,"featured_media":1713,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":"","_members_access_role":[],"_members_access_error":""},"categories":[5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-140","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-inspirational"],"yoast_head":"\n