How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love Christmas

I have never liked Christmas. In fact, on more than one occasion I’ve felt an intense hatred for it that makes Hezbollah’s attitude towards the state of Israel seem positively restrained. It often seems to embody everything wrong with our society; its original meaning utterly undermined by the indulgent excess and tacky consumerism of the ‘holiday season’.

I could handle it during my drinking days; it was the perfect excuse to head down to the pub and drown any negative thoughts in a black pool of Guinness and Jägerbombs (this happened under the guise of ‘Christmas festivities’, but had far more to do with the death of dignity than the birth of Christ). Of course, I eventually gave up the booze, at which point it was back to “Bah humbug!”

But as I’ve grown older, Christmas has taken on a much deeper meaning. At 42 years old, I now see it not through the lens of excess and obligation, but as a season of fleeting moments, and time spent with those who matter most.

I have watched the adults who raised me grow older and frailer. Where once I bitterly resented the obligation to spend time with family, I now see how precious that time is. My parents are in their late seventies, and a beloved uncle has recently been diagnosed with a neurodegenerative condition. Every visit with them reminds me of their fragility, and of how the burden of care now lies with me. I help them with bills, medical issues, cleaning, all the various mishaps that come up. They were the adults, the ones in charge - but now I’m holding that baton. I’m doing everything in my power not to drop it.

Christmas has also helped me to value friendships that I too often took for granted. The Christmas parties I once scorned have become rare opportunities to reconnect. Life is hectic, and these gatherings are precious, stolen moments to savour.

I recently caught up with a school friend I hadn’t seen in a decade. He told me about his success in trading, and how he’s financially set for life. As I proceeded to congratulate him, he also revealed he’d been battling a serious chronic health condition. I didn’t know what to say for a little while. One of my oldest friends had been suffering, and I’d known nothing about it. A moment like this will remind you how easily life can slip by; how the tunnel-vision of work and self-improvement can cause you to miss so much else that’s happening. Which is not to say a goal-oriented, career-focused outlook is a bad thing - just that when life hands you an opportunity to reconnect, take it. Eat a mince pie, drink a cup of mulled wine (or a delightfully unsatisfying alcohol-free beer) and have a proper catch-up.

I used to roll my eyes at cards proclaiming, “Christmas is the season of giving” or “It’s the thought that counts.” But I now understand their true meaning - not the giving of material gifts, but of time, attention and care. In a world of constant distraction and self-absorption, the kindest thing you can do is check in on someone. Maybe they’re fine, or maybe they’re struggling with something you’d never guess. A phone call, a visit, or even just a word of encouragement could make all the difference.

And the giving of time, attention and care isn’t just an antidote to life’s constant distractions - it also exemplifies the true spirit of Christmas. So, however you spend this month, let it be a time of thoughtful giving - not in what you buy, but in how you show up. Give your loved ones your undivided time and attention. You owe it to them, and you owe it to yourself.

Merry Christmas,

Francis