December was a busy month of tending to the children and
enjoying Christmas. The boys were happy
with their gifts. Santa came and ate his
chocolate chip cookies and drank his milk.
I went to midnight mass for the first time in eight years. I still have two cards to send off to
family. Yup, amongst all the chaos I
just didn't have time to send them. Maybe I should go do that now. But then I still wouldn't write this, so for
now the cards will have to wait another day.
There really should be “Happy Belated Holiday Cards,” just like there
are birthday cards.
But first my Christmas story.
We had one big snowfall in the month of December and it
landed on the boys’ last day of school, just before their winter break. I had a fleeting trepidation about taking the
car but decided that it would be fine as it wasn't all that far to go. We got stuck twice, the first time I managed
to steer us through but the second time we were just not moving. Full Stop. The boys were getting concerned. Fear.
A man came out of a neighbouring office building with a bag of salt and
directed me, this way and that way. I
still wasn't going anywhere. His
intentions were completely pure, he was only there to assist us and help us get
moving. He didn't give up and brought
out a second bag of salt, saying “Looks like you are just making ice, he
directed us again. He smiled and finally
got us on our way. The boys rolled down
their windows and of their own accord said, “Thank you for helping us.”
By repeating the same motions I was sliding back and forth
on the same patch of ground even though I thought I was moving forward. We repeat the same actions day after day and
think we are moving forward but where are we moving to? Sometimes if we are not careful we are
creating ice and we are not going anywhere.
If you are an Olympic figure skater or a beer and ice weekend hockey
player with a pretty damn good life, then slide on. The rest of us may get stuck without even
realizing it, until the paralyzing fear hits us, we are not going
anywhere.
When my car was on the hill, people were walking past us,
other cars were moving around us. If I
didn't know any better I might think I was moving right along with everyone
else. Once I realized that I was
actually in the middle of the world spinning my wheels I began to feel fear,
along with my little boys, “I’m scared Mama,” they said. Being stuck, I imagine, is one of the roots
of claustrophobia, all of a sudden you are not going anywhere and the walls
feel like they just might be closing in even if there are no walls around.
I wanted to park the car in the first spot I could right
after we got going and walk the rest of the way to the school. I told the gentleman who was helping us that as
soon as he got us going I was going to park and walk the rest of the way. He said that once he got us past this hill, “the
rest of the roads will be fine.” He was
right. Sometimes we just need a little
help to get us going and to keep us going, fear doesn't have to stop us in our
tracks. Getting help, asking for help
and accepting help that is offered, without strings, when it shows up for us is
a gift. Thank you kind stranger who
helped me get the boys to school that morning.
We were only five minutes late.
Better late than never.
