Some years, I can't get into the Christmas spirit.
Perhaps it's hearing the same songs for as long as I can remember — over and over and over again. "There's no place like home for the holidays." "Merry Christmas, darling." "Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock." "Frosty the snowman." "I'm dreaming of a White Christmas."
This time of year, life seems like the 1993 Bill Murray film, "Groundhog Day." Those who celebrate Christmas have the same routine: pick a tree, string lights, exchange holiday greetings, give gifts, and sing songs.
Of course, the sentiment behind all these things is peaceful and life affirming, but the traditions sometimes seem repetitive and predictable.
Then again, perhaps it's personal history: My father suddenly died Monday, Oct. 11, 1999. I was just a high school junior, and it was traumatic for a 17-year-old — one that darkened the general season of holidays (in my household, that includes Halloween, Thanksgiving, Advent and Christmas).
Perhaps the subsequent years of grief, and all the paperwork that losing a loved one entails, starkly contrasted with the cheerful season of caroling and stringing lights, and that changed my perspective.
Or, perhaps the commercial takeover of Christmas distracts from the season's true meaning for the faithful: celebrating Jesus Christ's birth.
People being trampled over, even killed, on Black Friday, parents fighting over the last of the year's hottest toy on the shelf, or watching some complain about the gifts they receive while I know there are others far less fortunate.
Regardless of the reason, I'm sure my characteristic overthinking of everything compounds the numbness.
But usually, something unexpected happens, and I find the Christmas spirit, the holiday in my heart.
This year, that came while reading North Okaloosa County children's letters to Santa Claus. (See links in "Related Content" at left.) I love reading children's innocent, unfiltered (and not spell-checked) words. One's wish that "my Dad and mom didn’t have to whork that much." Or, "If you can give me a gift, I would love to have my Daddy back." And even, "Dear Santa, You are not real! … I am going to be half asleep because I am going to prove that Santa isn’t real."
I love seeing Christmas through the eyes of a child, because they haven't experienced an adult's heartaches and setbacks, or nearly enough of those things to develop a more cynical worldview.
I'm not a pessimist, but I am a reformed idealist. I've learned that the boy doesn't always get the girl; that the hardest and most skilled worker doesn't automatically get the promised promotion — in fact, sometimes that opportunity just "evaporates" (that was circa 2011 in Alabama); and some people are downright cold and heartless, hurting people they don't even know, in the name of nothing, and there's nothing you can do about it.
There's so much pain in the world — war, homelessness and hunger, for instance — that I have gradually forgotten most worldly things. I'm not a "car guy." I don't have a favorite gadget I want for Christmas. There's nothing material on my Christmas or birthday lists; I sooner wish for healing of relationships and more friends, because those things truly matter.
But admittedly, I get a chuckle upon reading these Santa letters and learning about the Fartzooka, and other toys I've never heard of, and a skipped heartbeat when a child says something that forces me to read between the lines and find the hidden turmoil.
And it reminds me of the fun of hearing Perry Como records growing up, the wonder of kneeling before the nativity scene each midnight Mass, and the overwhelming joy of giving, even if I'm not receiving something in return.
I hope these letters also help you find the holiday in your heart.
Merry Christmas.
What's your view? Write a letter to the editor or tweet News Bulletin Editor Thomas Boni.
This article originally appeared on Crestview News Bulletin: BONI: Finding the holiday in your heart