It brought back a lot of memories. I struggled to remember some of the titles, but Google came to my aid. This list, to me, sums up some of my favorite high school memories- Christmas, and the love that I felt from and for my choir. The beautiful music that came from it, and the joy we felt in singing it- sometimes with passion (There Is No Rose), sometimes recklessly at the top of our lungs (Psallite), sometimes respectfully (E'en So Lord Jesus), and sometimes in memory of someone we'd lost (Ubi Caritas). I miss those days. They were times when we all felt an unusually high sense of belonging.
We performed a Madrigal Feast every year- a Renaissance dinner and short play, followed by a concert. I remember how much fun rehearsals were each year, and the concert that followed always brought tears to the seniors and to those younger students that they were close to. I remember my junior year especially well, because that was the year some of my best friends graduated and/or left. These were people that had thus far been present for my entire high school experience. This was the only year that I really cried.
Memories are a central part of Christmas. In fact, it is memories of Christ that make up the core of it. Traditions are part of these memories as well. I am so excited to travel home for Christmas and participate in our family traditions once more. To spend time with my family, talking about past years. We have many traditions around Christmas. We go to Grandma's on Christmas Eve, and we always have a Peppermint Pig. We hang our ornaments on the tree and the kids always help hand out the presents. And we get to open one present at home- always pajamas. Christmas is a day we most often spend at home, playing with siblings and enjoying the company of our family.
This year will be different, though, because I will be "coming home." Travelling home from this new place that I've found at college. I'm an adult and things are changing. It is strange to think that someday soon- not too many Christmases from now- I will not be spending the season the same way; I will have a husband and family of my own to spend it with. But I can still have Christmas traditions and memories. And I will have many new memories as well. That, after all, is the core of Christmas: memories.
Memories are so important to who we are. They shape us- I truly believe that much of who we become comes from what we go through, and without memories, those experiences would mean nothing. Memories are what give us language and friendship and love. Is it not memories that come, when you wish to think of happier times? Is it not reminiscing on days gone by that brings us comfort in loss? Memories are pieces of souls.
Memories are created by and for souls. We have the memories we do because of who we are, and we also are who we are because of the memories we've made. It is a wonderful cycle of becoming and growing and creating beauty and relationships that last far longer in memory than perhaps they can in time.
What do I mean by "we have the memories we do because of who we are"? Just this: That who we are puts us where we are, with whoever we might be around. Who we are places us in the right place to make memories that fit our souls. If you were someone else, wouldn't you be somewhere else? Whether from a different country, background, or even simply just possessing a different personality, can lead us to be in far different places and, of course, to create radically different memories. Two people may not even remember a particular event the same way. Our souls and identities are active participants in creating themselves- is this not true? It is what I believe.
The saddest part about Christmas, I think, is the memories of loss, of regret, and of pain. For those must resurface with the good memories. How many wonderful recollections of joy are tainted by the remembrance of the pain that came after? Some grief can be sweet, after a time, knowing that the ones lost are happy, or in a better place. But some heartbreak will always be sour to the taste, and painful to the touch. Christmastime is a wistful season, melancholy mixed with joy and longing with love.
And some times the nostalgia fills us, the recollections too big and too painful and it seems we cannot bear it. It is in these moments that we need the most important Christmas memory of all- the original one. It's ever so difficult in a world of wrapping paper, gifts, and receipts. It's ever so hard to remember that the sweetest gifts are often the simplest. Like a note, a letter, a handmade object.
A baby in a manger.
The sight of a star.
Simple.
Yet the sweetest of all
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