The holidays are not a time of unadulterated joy for a lot of people. And that’s in “ordinary” years. The pressure to be a vortex of gaiety and festive organization is like knives between the ribs when you feel like you’re barely hanging on by your fingernails. This year we have this bizarre Sword of Damocles hanging over us and demands by all manner of people to either gather and celebrate en masse in defiance of the science or stay the fuck home to save lives (maybe our own).
This year there are also hundreds of thousands of people in this country alone who are mourning the loss of one or more family members or friends to COVID-19. Or they’re struggling with a family member or friend who’s in hospital with the virus, or can’t get into a hospital because they’re full. How the hell do you pull jolliness out of that?
Well, in my opinion, you don’t have to. Especially not this year. But here’s a thing—and Advent is precisely the time for this—there’s a difference between jolliness and joy. And I know from experience that it is possible to find shards of the latter, even amidst crushing sorrow. Even in the holiday season.
My go-to song for this is the Indigo Girls’ “There's Still My Joy”. It reminds me that finding peace is a big part of this time. After all—aren’t we talking about the birth of the guy they called the Prince of Peace? I give you permission to put aside the gift wrapping, the light stringing, the cocktail-pouring and just be at peace. Even if only momentarily. Mourn for what you—we all—have lost. It’s substantial and the pain will always be with us. But there’s still joy if you can let it in.
This year, I’m giving you Oleta Adams’ cover of it. May the strength and warmth of her voice bring you comfort.
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