I've had a few REALLY good Christmases. The best was the Christmas of 1995 (10 years ago) the same year I moved from So. California to Portland, Oregon - no family, two friends, that's it. I was a single mom, poor and barely scraping by. I was going to have to tell my kids that our Christmas was going to be postponed. I was just gearing up for it when the phone rang - a neighbor of mine knew of a local charity group of well-to-do widows and widowers without family who each adopted a family once per year who had trouble during the holidays. The man told me my neighbor had nominated me and my family. He drove me and the children to the toy store. He looked at me and said, "Here's the rules - if you have any personal, political or moral aversion to any toy in this store, get over it. If your children want it, they're getting it. Anything they want, as much as they want. You don't get to say anything." So he bought them a cartful of toys, then took us to the grocery store where he bought a stockpile of food and wrapping paper. I cried for a week and swore that I would pay it back and then pay it forward. I consider it my obligation to continue to perform reasonable acts of kindness and I love doing it. I know what a difference it made for me and for my children and I will absolutely never forget it.
The same year, on Christmas Day, I met my current husband. I was so depressed and hopeless before I went to the party - almost didn't go, but resigned myself to one last shot at dating someone. I left feeling really good and optomistic for the first time in a while. Even though my husband's a really great guy, I think it was more because I faced being social without any interest and put on a good face and managed to have a really good time no matter what.
That would have to be my best Christmas.
I've had a few really bad ones too. The worst one was the first Christmas after my father died. We had spent about 6 months straight helping him fight cancer like he hadn't before - many nights in waiting rooms, chapels .... We had no tree that year, no gifts, no home-cooked meal; we were absolutely miserable and lost. He died in late October right before his birthday, several other family member's birthdays, and the holiday season. I was 19. It was an empty year. I suppose that's the year I felt the importance of cultivating the heart and loving relationships. There was no magical stranger to make that one better, no family to ease the sting, no friends who wanted to have a depressed friend over. What a lonely year.