Early in December every year I try to correspond with several hundred dear people whose faithful donations for almost four decades have paid the publishing costs for this magazine.
Handwriting that many notes is a big job, but it’s one I enjoy. Most of these folks are my personal friends. Some who started off as strangers many years ago have become dear to me through our partnership in this work. So I don’t begrudge the hours it takes to scribble a personal greeting on the bottom of all those Christmas fundraising letters.
A couple of years ago, though, the joy of the task was dampened at times by tears.
I came first to the letter intended for my dear friend Tom
Calhoun in southern
So, as I changed that gaff and wrote a note to Tom, instead of penning a merry greeting, I inscribed painful words acknowledging that I was weeping with him on that first Christmas after he lost the light of his life.
Then, one by one, I came to names of others whose hearts were anything but merry as Christmas drew near.
A month before that one donor had buried her mother.
Another had written me weeks before to tell of her husband’s crippling stroke.
And at least half a dozen were facing holidays for the first time after burying a mate.
Several hundred times that afternoon I dashed off a jaunty “Merry Christmas” to friends scattered all over the nation. But when I paused to write words of encouragement and love to those with freshly broken hearts, I was painfully aware that wishing them a flippant “Merry Christmas” could be a cruel way to add to the already oppressive sadness of their season.
This year as we move into the festive spirit of the holidays, pay special attention to your loved ones who aren’t smiling. If new losses have left those friends lonely, hurting, angry, or sad, the joy that brightens our lives may deepen their grief and despair.
Our most thoughtful gift this year might well be a line or two assuring them that someone sees their pain and cares.