Every year, every Christmas

Every year, I try to think about what Christmas means to me. And as I grow older, it becomes easier to release many things that I held as important, both from history and traditions, and from my own longing. Ageing makes one redefine life, finetune values, be bolder about boundaries, and generally have a better sense of priorities.

Recently, I recalled a Christmas when my parents, my sister, her then boyfriend, and I went to visit relatives. It was a first and therefore significant outing which happened in my first year at secondary school.

My parents never drove and so Christmases were mostly spent at home in our rural village. But the boyfriend had a car and we were going to visit my mother’s and father’s sisters and their families. They lived across the street from each other. I recall the excitement!

But what thrilled me was that lovely dress I planned to wear. My sister had made it for me to go to my first cinema lime in Princes Town. I looked and felt so beautiful in it, got so many compliments, and could not wait for the next occasion to wear it. That was our Boxing Day outing.

I ended up wearing a very dark brown suit, however, dubbed myself a “ground dove” and sulked for the rest of the season. That day, my mother, who always thought I dressed too slowly, decided the iron was not as hot as I said it was, and then: “Oh God!” she exclaimed, and from where I was in the house, I knew she had burnt my beautiful floral dress with the iron that came off the stove red hot.

Why is that the memory that stayed? How is it I do not remember what happened when I saw my cousins, the Dicksons and Baldwins? I cannot tell. But I realise, with this, as every other event, it is always easier to remember the hurt and disappointments from Christmases past.

But I do recall the kindnesses too, though, because, as I glean more from life, I am finding new appreciation for things that replace the Christmas trauma/drama. It seems that with the passage of time, gratitude becomes a better muscle memory, learning to count blessings becomes better math, and contentment evolves as desirable spiritual practice.

Tomorrow, I will complete 63 years of life and I am thankful. My new mantra is that I am “closer to meeting God than any time before, I want to be quiet and ready.” Instead of recounting the hurts and trauma, I embrace the longing for resolution, living in conscious days that measure my life appropriately.

Christmas Day means that I get to reassess not just my year but my life. Previously, I have been a harsh critic and unjust judge of myself, but nowadays, I give myself so much grace, I wonder if I am “spoiling the child,” my dad’s constant criticism for when I got my way with my mother. But it is so okay to “spoil the child,” I wish I knew that earlier.

I am grateful that I have walked past so many of life’s events and landed safely with a healthy regard for myself. I reflect on another difficult year. I consider how God gave me courage in the face of abuse, as people lauded their “status” and “standing” over me, assessing me as being beneath them. And, I have never been so secure and liberated about standing up for myself in dignified calm. I remain humbled to have my son’s companionship and support, too.

This emancipation, this loosening up of ties and sharpening of boundaries began in 2024, when a man for whom I had worked for ten months decided I was not worth the money I earned. He released me in October from his communication chats once the work was completed, then brazenly direct-messaged me “Happy Birthday” on Christmas morning.

At that moment, something arose bold and strong from the inner portals of grievous harm and a burning crucible of fedup-ness for people disrespecting me and taking me for a fool.

I still have not been paid but the level of disdain my silence was meant to communicate to this “son” was so empowering! I came into 2025 different. And now I pray that those positive changes and growth spurts walk me meekly into 2026.

My prayer remains for a long life in good health. But even that is vanity, as I continue to lose my friends of all ages and must solemnly admit that I have no control over that. The next year of my life, I pray to be especially well physically, to experience greater financial growth, be of a sound mind, and a good, good spirit.

I want to love more sincerely, give more generously, curate a silent spirit, and be safe in my solitude. I will drink water (and mind my business), break bread, and find ways to continue to give back to my community, “if the Lord wills.”

Happy Christmas to you and a Merry Birthday to me!