Thank you, dear readers, for taking this journey with me through 2017. May your Christmas season be filled with bright new memories, your mailbox be full of Christmas cards from friends far and near, and may 2018 bring you peace, love, and joy.
Since before I was born, Mom and Dad have kept up with family and friends through annual Christmas card exchange. In the address book (actually a card file,) I can retrace the moving history, births, deaths, and marriages of their people through the years. For those who moved often (like my sister and her family while they were stationed in the military), there are several cards stapled together. I don’t know if there is a scientific formula or specific time when the children or grandchildren get their own card, but I know most of the kids and kids of kids are still listed with the original family of origin.
On the back of each card, there is a running tally of cards sent or received. If the Bunns sent a card in two successive years without receiving a card in return, no more cards were sent. To use popular parlance, they weren’t “unfriended”; they just didn’t get another Christmas card. Sometime later, perhaps, Mom and Dad would learn that the matriarch or patriarch had died and a card of condolence would be sent, usually along with a memorial gift of Gideon Bibles. Then, if a thank you card was received in return, the Christmas cards would be sent.
It’s been several years now since Mom has been able to sign her name to the cards. Her beautiful handwriting used to write a quick update and sign “Ruth and Dwight.” Now Daddy’s scribble (he should have been a doctor because it is almost illegible) will sign a simple “Love, Dwight and Ruth.”
This year, Daddy had thought that he wouldn’t send any cards. However, other folks have sent cards to him so, under a social obligation of years of Christmas card giving, he is writing them. It’s harder this year than in past years because Mom doesn’t understand cards any longer. She used to revel in them, putting them out for repeated enjoyment. Last year, she still enjoyed the art and beauty of the cards although she no longer remembered many of the senders. This year, she doesn’t understand it’s the Christmas season.
All of this reminds me of the 1984 song “Do They Know it’s Christmas” by Bandaid, a conglomeration of British and Irish musical acts popular at the time. It was written as a reaction to reports of the famine in Ethiopia and was wildly successful, raising $14 million. It was re-recorded in 1989 and 2004 also for famine relief and 2014 for Ebola research. Each time it was a reminder of looking beyond ourselves to the most desperate among us. Its message of reaching beyond ourselves to connect with the wider world still resonates.
For most of us, we can’t go to the places of world crisis to assist those in desperate need. However, there is “a world outside your window, and it’s a world of dread and fear… give a little help to the helpless.” Let’s encourage those who are dispirited. Let’s embrace those who need physical touch. There is so much we can do right here, right now.
Christmas cards are a beautiful tradition of the season. We can send love and encouragement through snail mail. It’s lovely to be remembered, especially for those who are homebound. It may touch someone’s life in ways we cannot even imagine!
