This Christmas, I am telling my inner Supermom to leave the building.
In the pre-Christmas chaos, I will remember to breathe while juggling the buying flying shopping shipping put-it-on-plastic happy hoopla pot luck and good luck trying to squeeze into last year’s little black dress.
Multi-tasking to the point of burn out will no longer be my middle name. I will not apologize or feel inferior if the cards are late or the presents aren’t perfectly gift-wrapped or the kids look like baboons in the family photo.
This Christmas, I won’t trip over my words when I start to say Merry Christmas to someone celebrating Hanukkah. Screw political correctness. This year I will remember what’s truly important: opening a door for a senior, giving food and clothes to the homeless, teaching the children it’s not all about that guy in the red suit.
This Christmas I will put on John and Yoko’s Happy Christmas (War Is Over)—and listen.
No. Really, truly listen.
Another year over, and what have I done? …And so happy Christmas, for black and for white, for the yellow and red ones, let’s stop all the fight.
This Christmas, I will be still. Between the turkey and the silly paper hats; between the wine and the goodnight kisses, I will find my true North star, make a wish for the world and count my blessings—every one.