Blank Canvas
A friend posted a picture on her social media the other day and I can’t shake the image or idea of it from my head: a December calendar—completely blank.
I commented to her that I find it ironic because an empty December calendar has been my secret dream since my babies were little. Every year, the only item on my Christmas list was a December free of commitments, concerts, water shows, recitals, parties, potlucks, pressure and expectation.
December has long been a month that, for me, always looked and felt like complete overwhelm. It has been a month that brought out the worst in me—bitterness and resentment simmering quietly beneath the carefully constructed veneer of Christmas cheer and ho, ho, ho.
As my kids got older and the little calendar squares became more crowded, I had to pick and choose where I was going to make concessions for the sake of my sanity, abandoning some things to create space for others.
Looking back, I realize it was the expressions of my creativity and thoughtfulness that often went by the wayside: things like writing Christmas cards, baking, sewing reusable gift bags, and adding homemade touches to the season. Things that didn’t have hard and fast dates and deadlines like the other items written in pen, not as easily erased.
I justified each incremental loss along the way by thinking the only person who probably noticed or missed those things was me. And somehow, because I was the only one absorbing the disappointment, it was ok. (Except, it wasn’t.)
Even Christmas shopping, which at one time felt festive and unrushed, has been replaced by online orders and overnight delivery.
One of the first years we were married, I booked my husband for a day date in early December. We bundled ourselves against the elements and hit one of the quaint shopping streets in our city, stopping for a leisurely lunch at one of the local watering holes and meandering through boutiques and one-of-a-kind gift shops. We picked up a few things along the way, and the memory of that day is still one that warms my heart. (It should be noted that a day spent shopping will never make my husband’s Top 20 list, so this is proof that he truly does love me.) By contrast, the last few years he’s still booked time off work but we sit at side-by-side computers comparing kids’ wish lists and hitting Place Order simultaneously. Just one more check mark on a long to-do list.
I’ve suffered at the hands of my calendar and the vice grip its December demands have held on my life and my heart for years.
I assumed that my friend’s social media post was supposed to indicate loss, that a December devoid of activity, events and gatherings is yet another casualty of 2020. But what if it’s actually not? What if, instead, it’s a blank canvas? What if, once all the trappings and trimmings that sometimes get in the way of the actual season are removed, we are left with space and time to actually enjoy it? To make it be something soul-filling instead of life-draining?
To be clear, I’m not trying to imply that your Christmas season is life-draining. I will fully admit that I have boundary issues and so it might be that I’m the only one here who needs this little perspective shift. But I don’t think so.
And so, now, looking at the blank canvas that is December 2020 I wonder:
How will I fill those squares now that I actually have the time to choose?
Now that this crazy, roller-coaster year has actually gifted me with a blank page of possibility, what are the ways I will turn that canvas into a masterpiece to close it out?
I don’t know about you, but I’m weary. 2020 has left a lot of us feeling a little worse for wear. Honestly, I don’t think I could have handled a typical December this year. In many ways, the empty calendar feels like a mercy. And embracing the perspective of a blank canvas instead of just one more in a long line of losses at the hands of 2020, somehow feels hopeful to me. It feels like something this weary world needs.
A thrill of hope, the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn.~O Holy Night
Jesus said, “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” ~Matthew 11:28.
So, what does your December calendar hold? Time to rest? Time to be creative? Time to do some things you’ve long put on the back burner, just waiting until the “someday” when you actually have time? Maybe the empty calendar is an invitation to step into someday, today.
I would love it if you sent a little note to janine@janinedilger.com and let me know how you intend to fill your December page.
Thanks for reading,
