Appreciation…

Gratitude and appreciation are words with similar meanings. If you look up the definition of each, you will see a link between the words. In fact, Oxford Languages uses the word appreciation in their definition of gratitude as it is “the quality of being thankful; readiness to show appreciation for and to return kindness". When they define appreciation, the link isn’t as quickly apparent, calling it the “recognition and enjoyment of the good qualities of someone or something”. Why am I pointing this out? Well, for me there is a level to each word. I think of gratitude as being a stronger action and I’ve talked about it a fair bit throughout different blogs. Appreciation, though, is softer to me. It’s more about, as Oxford Languages notes, the recognition and enjoyment of something. So, yes, there is a gratitude element but it’s doesn’t have the same weight. It feels quieter, more internal and personal.

The Christmas season, whether you’re celebrating Christmas or Hanukkah or Kwanza or whatever, is a crazy time of year. In the work environment it’s often a time of “trying to get it done before the end of the year”. People with children may want to take holidays to enjoy the school break together, as a family. Workers in the retail industry are not only dealing with the hustle and bustle of shoppers trying to get the perfect gift for Uncle Wayne, they’re also trying to find time for their own gift buying. Great amounts of food are being purchased for that one big meal that is meant to serve all of the extended family visiting during this time.

Lots of money is being spent and lots of stress is being felt. Houses are being scrubbed so for that one moment, everything is perfect. I know I’m way behind in my usual preparations this year. I’ve only accomplished a little of my personal baking. My house needs a thorough cleaning. My decorations, thankfully, are almost done - still missing a few essentials! I’m feeling the same pressure as everyone else. Most notably, I’ve been finding my thoughts are often on a panic-level these days. In an effort to deal with the rising anxiety in my life, I’ve spent this past week considering what is critical to me. What do I need to have a good holiday season?

I need to constantly remind myself that the word “season” means far longer than one day. Although I am gearing up for December 25th, I desperately need to remember that it’s all of the season that I love. Last Sunday I was saying goodbye to my mom and nieces as they were heading home. To be perfectly honest, the last thing I wanted to do was get dressed and head to mass. The girls left early and I had over two hours before mass time. I wanted to tidy up, snuggle on the couch with my newspaper, have another cup of tea, and just relax. When I let myself consider NOT going to mass, I realized it was the first Sunday of Advent. As I have said before, I love the whole season and masses in Advent are something I don’t want to miss. I knew I would feel unsettled without mass so I went. And I’m very glad I did. I truly appreciate the church’s preparation for Christmas.

I had so much fun having my mom and nieces come for the weekend. My house gets loud and a little messy when they’re here and it’s good for me. They carry so much joy and love within them. Having them here is very disruptive. I’m used to the quiet, even when I have the stereo blasting. It’s a small house and I’ve gotten comfortable with each space in it. When the girls are here, it’s a little overwhelming - everywhere I turn there is a person or some of their “stuff”! It’s almost a little disorienting. I look forward to a little bit of alone time first thing in the morning. I get up by myself and I think I’ll have time before anyone else arises to get myself centred in the quiet. It never works out that way as the youngest is always up early and can’t wait to join me. And you know what? I secretly love our private moments together. We chat and have our tea and hot chocolate and decide what we’re going to do for the day. Last weekend we headed out the door really early to deliver my baked goods to my church bake sale. Snow was coming down, the volunteers were setting up the bake sale, the streets were starting to come alive as the village was preparing for our special Christmas celebration. After our job at the church was complete, we walked around the downtown of the village so I could do a couple of errands. Our main street was blocked off in preparation for foot traffic only and the snow was muffling all sound. It was as pretty as a postcard. The two of us picked up my mail and newspaper and headed home. It was precious time for me. I appreciate that child so much. She’s honestly a gift from God.

My son and daughter-in-law are contemplating a huge change in their lives. They’ve been looking into possibilities for over a month now. I’ve barely slept well since I found out. Their life is not mine and yet, as a mom I have a very difficult time not worrying. It’s caused me a ton of stress. But that isn’t on them. It’s on me as I am the one who is reacting in this way. I’ve been putting it down to “being a parent and wanting the best”. What I’ve realized this past week is that if I don’t find a way to cope I’ll give myself another stroke. They don’t need my worry. They have plenty of their own. At the end of the day, I am always here for them. That is what I should be focused on. None of the rest of it is mine. It’s up to them to consider the options. It’s up to them to make the decision. It’s up to them to enjoy this process. I remembered some of the bigger decisions in my life. None of them were particularly easy and I don’t think they should be. Whether they turn out “right” or not, they are important paths that we must follow. Those roads of our lives give us the opportunities to meet people, have experiences, and learn about ourselves and life. I appreciate all that went into my own decisions, stress included. I appreciate knowing that while some didn’t work out, they all led me here, to this place. So, this is their time. I’m here to provide whatever support I can, but I need to let the stress go. It’s not mine to carry.

This past week our village has looked fairytale perfect. We had the kind of snow that sticks to the trees and makes everything look sparkling clean. The world looked fresh and new. I didn’t realize until I was walking through the village early one morning just how much I appreciated the feeling of that “look”. Now, before you think I’m not making sense, let me explain. We have Christmas cards that capture scenes of “winter perfection”. We have movies that depict the perfect little town with the perfect houses and shops and town squares. We have an image in our heads of what Christmas should look like in a village. This past week, our little village was exactly those images. I like to go for a walk when I first get up. At 5:30 in the morning, there is little activity on the streets. The world is hushed before the hustle and bustle begins. Last week, the hush was enhanced by the fresh, beautiful snow. It rested on trees, roofs, cars, and sidewalks. It was honestly the most beautiful picture. Walking through it evoked a feeling of pure serenity. I didn’t feel the overlying stresses of my day. For those few minutes out in the crisp air, the dark sky, the blanket of fresh snow, I felt completely at peace. I appreciated not just the feeling but the knowledge that this place is special. I appreciate knowing that, while fleeting, those moments are possible. I appreciate knowing that a decision I made to take the leap and move here, even with all of the difficult “house times”, has been worth it. I appreciate the beauty of this village.

I don’t know a lot of people in the village and I’ve lived here almost three years. I don’t think that’s a failing on the part of the occupants. If anything, I believe it falls on my shoulders. It’s up to me to speak and be friendly and to engage with others. Last week I was getting my hair done and chatting with my hair stylist. [I had to find a new stylist when I moved here. I found Kim. She is outgoing and funny and friendly. She’s lived in this village for decades and she and her husband raised their daughter here. This has been their home for a long time. She knows the village stories, the histories, the people who have made this village something special. It’s great to have a connection like that when you live in a small place.] As we were talking, she said something funny. She said I probably knew more people in the village now, than her. I had a good chuckle over it. As I thought about it, though, I realized that I probably know people to see them in a way that she doesn’t because she’s busy most of the day in her salon. I live right in the village and go for walks, encountering faces as I do. So, yes, I may recognize more people than she does but I don’t think of that as knowing them. It got me thinking about how important it has turned out to at least know faces. I “know” three of the waitresses at our local family restaurant. I enjoy popping in for dinner there occasionally. I “know” the primary post office workers, enough for them to know my name. I “know” the girl that works in our caramel shop and the owner, by name. I’ve now met the owner of two other shops and know her by name. I “know” the two cashiers at our little grocery store. I “know” the lady with the white dog, the man with the doodle-type dog, the pugs’ owner, Fergus (the dog across the street), and my neighbours. I guess I “know” some of the public works’ guys and definitely some of the firefighters after they spent time in my house during the flood. I appreciate the gentleness of living in a small village where you get to “know” people, even if it’s just a hello or a good morning when you’re picking up your newspaper. I appreciate that a friendly wave makes me feel good inside. I appreciate that the ladies at church have welcomed me. I appreciate that I live in a place where I feel safe and that comes in part from “knowing” the people around me.

As I mentioned, I get up early. My early morning time is precious to me. I want time for my paper, my news broadcast, my tea, my quiet before I log on for the workday. It’s critical to my wellbeing. I cherish this part of the day before I begin to interact with people for hours on end. I appreciate how this house, that is becoming my home, gives me the surroundings I need to find peace. I appreciate how this home that I am creating feeds my need for serenity. I can just “be” in this home. I’m in the sitting room, my computer propped on my lap, and the Christmas tree lit. As I look around, I see my antique desk with the remnants of Christmas card writing still on the top, the Christmas decorations on almost every surface, the lights on the Christmas tree twinkling, the other comfortable reading chair beside where I’m sitting. I have put together colours and furniture and decor that suits me. I’m not decorating for a public view. I’m making my home. My environment that makes me feel secure and stable. I’m realizing as I sit here that I appreciate my talent for doing this. I don’t know if I could do it for someone else and since I don’t plan to become a designer, I’m okay with that. I appreciate that this home is my creation. I don’t think I knew until now that this is where I want to be in the years to come. I’ve always considered retiring somewhere else. This morning as I write this, I appreciate that I have found “home”.

A picture of my side yard with the freshly fallen snow.

How pretty is this! My mom and niece installed garland on the railings which adds so much beauty to the front of the house!

Changed up the decor in my kitchen this year and I love it! One of my new additions, is the painted mitt, courtesy of my mom.

The kitchen shelves make me smile every time I walk into the room.

Another change I made this year is putting the tree in the sitting room. I love to sit in this room and read or write or just take in the beauty of the season. [You may notice there’s no snow outside - we lost it all this weekend when it rained. Hopefully, we will have a white Christmas.]