Now, About Being with the Relatives at Christmas…and Staying Calm

I’m partial to spending time chatting with the dogs at Christmas during family gatherings. No matter who they belong to, the dogs just adore my attention and listen to everything I have to say, delighted in my enthusiasm and joyful approach to life. I have found that their outlook is always measured by genuine affection, and happiness in the holiday lights, and snow if it comes down so they can watch it, three of their most favorite things to do.

They also have absolutely no negative opinion about how I look, what my lifestyle is, how many books I own (a lot), my choice in friends and partners, my love of exploring new ideas, my metaphysical bent, my passion for studying all things Neolithic and medieval. They are supportive and willingly hear me out on UFOs and NDEs.

It’s not all one-sided. I know they need entertainment so games are always in play, usually involving chasing balls indoors and a run in the snow outside. (If it’s raining, they decline.) I also recognize when they are losing interest because they fall asleep rather often, but they wake up alert, which simply amazes me. Of course, a lot is going on and they do get distracted and that’s as it should be.

The one conversation I have with the dogs that helps the most is the one about politics. If that subject comes up in the family gatherings, words are spoken that both defy logic and set fire to formerly pleasant associations, or at least formerly civil associations. The pretense of enjoying each other’s company goes out the window.

And everyone is right, each to his or her own mind — needs to be right — and any opposition is not only evil but in some family gatherings, lethal.

I used to enter the fray, and of course, resistance to the fury before me was futile. The criticism I heard them give to each other, at times venomous in nature, made me want to return instantly, magically, to the joy of Christmas morning I had as a child. I imagined, against the evidence, that what was going on was a bad dream. I stopped joining in. My heart stayed calm.

And in the midst of it all, the dogs, well, they always offer only comfort, and kindness, and love. They remind me what this time of year is meant to be about. It isn’t about family, especially contentious family gatherings.

It’s about the Christ Child, the birth of the Christ Child, which heralded peace of heart, and joy in giving, and love.

The dogs know this way of being without saying a word.

Regina Clarke is a writer of mystery, fantasy, and science fiction. She has lived on all three coasts and in England but has found her true home in the ancient landscape of the Hudson River Valley. The Shawangunk Mountains she can see as she writes are part of the Appalachians, the oldest on earth. She’s on Twitter @ReginaClarke1 and is the author of Voices from the Old Earth, Guardians of the Field, and MARI. Her website blog frequently explores the ideas of hope and inspiration.

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