A Jewish Christmas

In years past I looked forward to Christmas because I knew that I’d sing to strangers in the morning, see a movie in the afternoon, and enjoy a Chinese feast in the evening.  I didn’t have the pressure to visit family or put on a fake smile for the gift I would never request.  But today I’m relaxing.  As a busy New Yorker, quick to fill in an open slot with a museum visit or a show, I eschewed relaxation as an unnecessary commodity.  I lived by Warren Zevon’s song title, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”    No more.  It’s been a great day.  Resting was required, and I enjoyed it thoroughly. 

            It’s so nice to change things up.  I know I can create rules and then feel like a slave to something that may have worked 13 years ago, but doesn’t fit into my life now.  Somehow as a teen and a young adult I felt the need to prove I wasn’t lazy.  I was happy to volunteer and humbly speak of my “good works.” I needed to show the world that I was, in fact, a productive member of society.  These days, though, I am much more comfortable life’s contradictions.  I can be busy at times, and relax when I need to.   I am not so keen on denying my laziness now. It was a very special Christmas for me.  And, in my own small way, resting was a miracle,  a miracle worth repeating

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