Thoughts on a Christmas Eve

I recently wrote a story about domestic violence and how battered women’s shelters and Greeley Police — at least anecdotally — see an increase in cases this time of year.

There’s a lot of dysfunction at the core of domestic violence, but holiday stress plays a role in the spike.

My domestic life is relatively simple these days. It’s just me and a handful of plants. Without fail, though, I get behind in the mad scramble to get Christmas cards written and gifts bought. I’m the world’s worst gift wrapper.

It always comes down to the last minute and I somehow throw it all together. Friends and family usually get my cards around New Year’s.

The stress can be intense now too, but it was certainly compounded in my married-life days. Obligations aplenty on both sides of the family, loads of gifts to buy … I recall feeling completely spent (literally and physically) by the time Christmas arrived.

Now that life is somewhat simplified, I can look upon the holidays through a new prism. I still feel some of the same old stresses, but I try to work in as many antidotes as possible.

For each stresser, there should be an anti-stresser, a pause button. That’s the way it’s been in this frenzied stretch toward The Day, and it’s been great.

Just two days before Christmas I found myself in Park Meadows Mega Shopping Complex south of Denver. Bewildered by the maze of big boxes, swarming traffic and parking lots as far as the eye can see (just where are the Meadows?), I finally stumbled into a big box that miraculously carried a decent rendering of a gift I wanted to buy. Bingo. Hours before that I bought four gift cards for relatives who can use them for whatever, whenever. Bingo, bingo, bingo, bingo.

Released from the consumerist tangle, I spent the rest of Christmas Eve Eve leisurely sauntering through the Denver Art Museum. Major pause. Major peace.

Later that day, strolling outside, there was the late-December full moon rising magnificently over the state capitol’s golden dome. Even better, Mars was riding in the moon’s rumble seat and they rose slowly together through the clear, darkening sky. They kept me company on the drive home to Greeley.

On Christmas Eve morning, I stopped at a downtown filling station. I felt the familiar pang of stress rise when my car’s starter, apparently choosing this time to die, failed to register a spark after I’d filled the tank. So I sat there for at least 5 minutes turning the key and hearing nothing from the engine. With each turn I got more testy.

Until I looked up and saw a pair of red foxes strolling across 13th Street just 50 feet out the windshield. They loped into a parking lot just off 11th Avenue. If my car hadn’t acted up I wouldn’t have seen it.

Antidote. Stress turned to wonder. A couple clicks more and the engine finally turned over.

I’m working here at the Trib on Christmas Eve, and I’m anticipating a pretty quiet day. Whatever it brings, I’m holding fast to the memories of the stunning art, the amazing moon (& Mars) and those carefree urban foxes.

This season can be antidote in itself — a time of peace and reflection apart from the dervish of the rest of the year. Guess the point of this blog-o-ramble is that it’s there if you take the moments to look.