My Christmas marathon started with my son's class' charity concert in our church. Our son's first Christmas at school was an important event, so we know it's impossible to miss it. And that primitive children's concert created the first hint of the holidays. It ignited that spark of festive mood, the excitement of waiting for the holidays.
And so, during the holidays, we met with the whole family, attended a Christmas concert, visited our parents' graves. Candles burn like stars, testifying to the past. Those lives that melted like wax.
For every person, even those who have already left earthly reality, it is probably important that someone bears witness to their life, that they existed, created, dreamed, believed. That they lived exactly then, exactly here.
After all, those people, witnesses of the beginning of our lives, are, in fact, fewer and fewer. And those people become more and more precious to us. Especially when they often knew more about us than we knew about ourselves and could tell us a lot about our lives.
Today I had the feeling as if a telephone were ringing - that old, landline one, the number of which I no longer remember. But there, at the other end of the line, my grandmother always answered. As if someone were turning the dial, dialing that old, no longer existing number, and then a sharp phone call would be heard. Only I could answer. Because everyone else at the other end of the line was dead. It's good that there are still people who remember that dissolved life. Means, that life really was.
But let's look back, and behind me - life. As the years go by, I always feel like a traveler with a backpack on my shoulders, although maybe I haven't traveled so spartanly for a long time. So what sometimes weighs so heavily on our shoulders, is it the cross? The one that is always lighter to others, and it seems the heaviest to us?
I feel like a person who has finally climbed a high mountain, my palms scratched on the rocks, my feet are worn out, my joints ache. But I survived, I overcame that past. Life is not always beautiful, the world is not always good. But, hey, it was worth going. After all, that was important once. It was not at all for the glitter, not for the fun. It was worth going because of real things.
And the real things are my family and the family I was born in. It was truly important to me to bring both my families together. Especially when I have so many trips and not always spend holidays in my homeland. Last holiday I was so far away from here.
We had a few hours' meeting at one special place with many conversations, some food, many laughs, attractions and games for adults and children.
The next day, the second day of Christmas, we had tickets to a Christmas concert at our concert hall. The kids stayed with my sister. And we both, with my husband, had the pleasure of winding ourselves up and listening to Christmas music.
If I thought those wishes could come true, and they do come true, although maybe not always, then I would wish us all, first, faith. In God, in ourselves, a happy ending, even if the beginning was not like that; faith in our own strength. That we all have the same right to be here. And that we would not have to constantly test the limits of our strength and the strength of that faith.
I wish that we didn't have to be ashamed of our weakness if, sometimes, we have a moment of it. So that those around us accept us all the way, imperfect. So that we too can forgive them. So that those who rejoice do not forget to feel gratitude.
I wish that peace and tranquility would accompany everyone on our journey, as long as centuries, as millennia, sometimes difficult, and sometimes bright, full of unearthly weightlessness, like a child's dream on the dawning Christmas morning. Let us believe.
Now, let's wait for the New Year.
💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝
With love, @madeirane
Photos are taken by me.
© 2024
