By Carol Lucas
In any given year, as December 31 approaches, one is transported to a place where retrospect and anticipation battle one another for center stage. By the time you read this, it will be January 4, and this arena will be three days behind you.
Either you will be deeply engaged in bringing to fruition that list of resolutions you created, or, as I am wont to do, you will be playing Scarlett and “thinking about that tomorrow.”
We all have good intentions to change for the better as the old year closes and the new one arrives. I know I need to exercise more; yet the longest distance is to my front door and down the driveway to the street. Once I am on that street, I am ready.
The loop around my neighborhood is almost a mile, and I know with some perseverance, I can crush that baby, even at my weakest. But it’s getting out the door and down the driveway. That span might as well be equivalent to the Indy 500!
I think we tend to have a heightened awareness this time of year, a mellowing, if you will. We seem to take the time to be especially grateful for what we have. I was with my family in Atlanta over the holidays, and what a joyful interlude that was.
As I have mentioned previously (of course I have, several times, ad nauseam, I suspect) I was able to cuddle with my great grandson. Those moments almost took my breath away.
At six months, he has become so personable with all the smiles and chortling that delight my heart. That I am lucky enough to still be around to see and hold him wasn’t lost on me. My gift from him was a coffee mug declaring, “I’m a Gigi. What’s your superpower?” I must add, however, that the best gift was the child, himself. Need I elaborate?
In no way do I want to diminish the time I spent with the rest of the family. I got to spend quality time with each of my daughters and granddaughters, time removed from the bustle of opening gifts and cooking meals that were consumed much more quickly than it took to prepare them.
Eventually the visit drew to a close as do all family gatherings. I acknowledged to myself that I wasn’t looking forward to the return trip of four and a half hours that included the adventure that always ensues when one is driving on I-75, as well as I-95. That, however, is part of the package, and I wasn’t about to let the thought diminish the glow.
And so on the last night I was there, I sat quietly (actually by myself as everyone had retired from the frenzy) and looked at a beautifully decorated 10-foot Christmas tree. It sat in a room with multiple windows that look out over a lake.
The lake was calm as were my thoughts. Other lights shone across the water, sprinkled along the opposite shore, signaling the holiday was being celebrated by many.
It was a time to reflect. There was an element of sadness that my late husband, now gone for 23 years, couldn’t have enjoyed what had been mine for the past few days. Yet, in my heart, I know that he was with us, laughing at the humor and sharing my delight when I held his namesake, Liam Noel.
I also found myself thinking about those whose holiday was demolished by mortar, delivered to a so-called enemy out of hate and greed for power. I contemplated the resulting deaths of thousands of loved ones, and I paused to hope that there might be some level of comfort provided, however minimal.
I thought of those people in our own country who in the past year have lost loved ones, not only because of poor health, but also the ever-increasing tragedy of mass shootings. What must their holiday have been like? Did they have to try to make the time memorable for others while being consumed by their own anguish?
And those who are alone, who are homeless, who are estranged from loved ones? How do they manage to get through this enigma, a time of glittering lights and beautiful music, gifts, and unbearable tragedy?
Aside from personal goals that impact us directly, what might we be thinking about and resolving to do as we greet 2024? That seems like a very loaded question, and yet given the tension and division under which we presently live, it is exactly the question that should be met head on and explored.
I don’t pretend to have any answers for the two wars that are taking place on our planet. I quietly grieve when I hear of additional attacks on the humans who had no part in starting either one.
I have no solution for our border crisis, but I do know that if I thought my child, grandchild, or that sweet little munchkin that I got to love on were in danger, I’d damn well trek any mountain or desert to get them to safety.
I have little recourse for helping those who have lost loved ones to gun violence except to use my voice in protest, and perhaps that is where the beginning of a solution lies for all of us: using our voices, loud and consistently.
We cannot stand idly by while one travesty after another occurs. We cannot sit silently in front of our beautifully decorated trees and acknowledge how fortunate we are to have our families intact while ignoring the plight of others.
If we don’t make a resolution to do one other thing in 2024, let’s resolve to let our voices be heard; loudly, clearly, and with a sense of urgency and determination. Make this the year to really care.
Happy New Year.
Carol Lucas is a retired high school teacher and a Lady’s Island resident. She is the author of the recently published “A Breath Away: One Woman’s Journey Through Widowhood.”
