Invitations

In April 1996, one month before I graduated college, I was offered a job at a radio station in Florida. Just a few days after my graduation in May, my dad and I loaded the few belongings I had into a moving truck, then we hopped in my '91 (or so) blue Geo Metro and drove the 24 hours to what would be my new home. The owners of the station had previously lived in NY, went to the same church as my  family and were good friends with my parents. So when they heard I would be graduating with a broadcasting degree, they offered to hire me. I couldn't exactly turn down a decent paying job in my field of study, although accepting it meant I had to leave behind everything and everyone I'd known and loved up to that point in my life. This was HUGE scary for me. I don't like being outside my comfort zone, and that zone was fairly small at that time. I had gone away to camps when I was younger and left my parents to go to college, the leaving part wasn't really a big deal. It was the "by myself" part that scared me. When I went to camp as a kid, my best friend was usually with me, and one or the other of our mothers was a counselor. In high school I joined the same clubs and went to the same places my friends did. I knew my freshman year college roommate, we had gone to elementary and high school together. I absolutely did not like throwing myself into a crowd of people, or any number of people, all alone. I avoided it at all costs. So, here I was, 23 years old, picking up and moving 1,260 miles away from home. All.by.myself. 

I managed to adjust and find some friends, thanks to my new bosses. I kept in touch with my then-boyfriend and other college and high school friends. I forced myself to smile and talk to others and 'get out there' a little, as it were. Fast forward to December. My boyfriend was planning to move from NY to Florida to be with me, but he wasn't able to come until a few days after Christmas. So, now, here I was, 1200 miles away from my family, during what is supposed to be the happiest time of the year, and I was all alone. I tried to keep my own spirits up. I decorated the little palm tree that I had inside my house, and put all the presents I had bought for my boyfriend underneath it in an attempt to recreate the scene that I had known so well growing up. I sang Christmas songs to my cat, and repeatedly told myself that I should be happy. But I wasn't. I was lonely.

Christmas morning, I woke up early and reported to work as I was supposed to. I kept a smile in my voice as I DJ'd my way though the early morning shift and pretended to the listening audience that all was well with my world. I didn't really have much of a plan for after work. Go home, sing more Christmas songs to my cat and anxiously wait for the next three days to go by, pretending to be as joyful as society seemed to think I should be. About an hour before the end of my shift, the phone rang. It was a woman named Brenda. Brenda was a hairdresser in town, whom I had talked with a number of times, and her husband Kermit was the local post master. Between the two of them, they knew pretty much everyone. That's how it is in a small town of 5000 residents. They were both extremely friendly people, always smiling and cheerful. Brenda inquired about my plans for the remainder of the day. Feeling that telling her I was going to go home and mope wasn't really a viable answer, I opted for the much simpler, "Oh not much, really." Before I even had the opportunity to expand on that, she invited me to her son's house to spend the day with her, Kermit, their children and grand kids. I felt a little odd at the thought of going to a complete stranger's house, but she insisted and I obviously didn't have a good reason to say no. So I agreed.

After my shift, I went home to brighten myself up. After all, if I was going to be in the presence of other people, I didn't want to come across as Sad Sally. Since I hadn't expected to go anywhere, I didn't have anything to offer to the hosts, but when I arrived at the house, I was greeted with open arms and lots of hugs. I honestly don't remember many details about the exact events of the day, but I got to watch the grand kids open gifts, and that's part of the magic of Christmas - watching the kids' excitement and joy burst out of them. We had a very delicious home cooked meal, everyone talked and laughed and acted as though there was nothing weird about having this outside person in their midst. The family completely embraced me, not only as a guest, but as a member, even if for just that brief moment of time. That feeling of complete and unquestionable acceptance is one that has stuck with me throughout the years, and something that I have strived to pass along to others.

This holiday season I am grateful for:

1. Invitations to be with others, so as not to be alone. There was a Thanksgiving a few years back when my kids went to their dad's, leaving me by myself. A couple different friends caught wind of this and immediately invited me over. Unfortunately, the kids and I had all been sick the few days prior, so I opted out of sharing any of our germs with the rest of the world, but the invitations were still important to me.

2. The ability to return that favor to others. After that particular Christmas with the family of Brenda and Kermit, I decided that my door should be open to others, if they should need it. For those who find themselves alone, but don't necessarily want to be, call on me. 

3. The ability to ask, and not impose. I don't always like to ask for help, and I sometimes feel like I'm intruding or being a bother, if I invite myself to someone else' house. But there are certain friends who I know always have their doors open to me, if I were to need it. Even if I don't need it, it's nice to know they are there for me.

4. Lots of different families. My family, my boyfriend's family and my ex's family are all pretty big families. And I feel welcome in all of them. That's a good feeling. 

5. Empathy. I'm thankful that I know what it feels like to be alone, so I can help others who might feel the same way. 

It's easy to sometimes forget that not everyone has a big family, sometimes people are grieving or missing a loved one, and the holidays aren't always the happiest time of year for some. I would hope that we can all be mindful of other people's situations and share what we have with those who have less. That's what the holiday spirit is about.