Home for the Holidays

Ahhh, the Holidays.
When family gathers from afar to laugh, love, smile and enjoy one another's comany.
Hmmm.
I wonder if my family missed the instruction manual on Holidays.

You know, I laugh with my family (ok, really at), I love my family (most of the time), I smile with my family (through gritted teeth), and I enjoy their company (for about 5 minutes).

Is this loving, functional family scenario a fairy tale? Does it truly exist? Or is it just stuff of legend, floating on the winds of time for those who wish it to be true.

I have never really experienced this loving family thing myself. At least not in full doses.
I fear this is like the falling dream myth. You know, the one where "they" (whoever they are) say that if you hit the ground in your dream, you will die. I am afraid that if I ever experience this loving family scenario for real, my heart would not be able to handle it. I would just keel over.

Now I do have a friend who tells me of a family outing that she had with her functional family as a child. She tells of a sunny day in an amusement park full of laughter and fun. How the family of four stepped into a cylindrical tube (the one that goes round and round while you try to walk through), and subsequently fell over one another laughing until she wet her pants.

Well, I find that hard to swallow. Mainly because for starters, you would never find my family at an amusement park together. There would have been too much fighting and the parental figure (notice only ONE here) would have just turned the car around and gone home (with a few over the seat backhands to boot). Then, comes the whole "laughter and fun" part of it. "Too much money, too many people, this is just stupid" Would have replaced that. Then, the whole "everyone on the same ride" thing? Seriously. I mean really. I won't even go into what would have happened if I had wet my pants in public! Hooboy.

I have searched for this elusive bit of harmonized relationships within my family tree and have not yet seen it. I believe that I may have spotted glimpses of it at other households, in other trees, but it remains hidden within my own.

The fairy tale remains just that, a fairy tale. A legend. Something to wish for and hope for.
A happily ever after.

So until I find that bit of pixie dust floating around at a family gathering, I will continue to enjoy my family the only way I can.

Laughing with my family (ok, really at), loving my family (most of the time), smiling with my family (through gritted teeth), and enjoying their company (for about 5 minutes).

The love of a Mother

I love my Mother. I really do.
I just can't stand her.

Ok. So I know how God has said to honor your Mother and your Father...but I am having a bit of a problem with this. The Dad thing isn't so bad because I never see him. Oh I run into him at the grocery store or Costco, but I stand and make idle chat and then leave. It's all really superficial.
My Mother, well, that's another story.

I have a movie, a home-made movie, that I purchased from a Disney internet site. The movie is of a couple of shows of Bill Hill and the Hillbillies in DisneyLand.
The movement is jerky and the sound has much room for improvement. And it makes me laugh the whole time. I sing with the songs, and I find that I smile through the whole presentation. It's fun.
So (stupid me) I thought that I would bring it over to my Grandmother's house while my Mother is here and let her watch it and experience some of the joy.
I was wrong.

I am sure that she was a fun and happy person at some point in time...like maybe when she was 5. But take fun, happiness, joy, carefreeness (is that a word?), and any other airy, dreamy or whispy characteristic and mush them all together. Then take a rock and pound until all crinkled and crushed, then ignite and burn until nothing but ash.
That's my Mom.

I guess I have trouble understanding the toll hatred and bitterness can take on the human heart, the life of a soul.
How sad that she can't see past the barrier that she has built for herself.
Now I know that most people have some sort of barrier. I have one myself..that I am chipping away at. However my Mother's barrier is made of steel and barbed wire. It is cold and gray and hard. It brings in no warmth or light.

Maybe someday she can know what it is like to have the heart of a child. To love, smile, laugh, and have her soul filled with joy.

I wish that for my Mother.
Because I love her.