On the Cards
A Pre-Christmas Ritual
Tracey Edstein
In these days of easy, fast electronic communication,
the custom of sending Christmas cards is declining. And I hear many say, ‘I still haven’t
done the cards. I’m not sure if they’re going to happen.’ The
spirit is willing but the sender is time-poor. I understand this feeling
of wistful regret, but I will still be sending individually chosen cards
this year.
Why?
To me, it’s an important pre-Christmas ritual. It’s well
worth the time and even the inconvenience of queuing to buy Christmas
stamps at the (not so) special rate.
The first element of the ritual is purchasing the cards. My practice
for as long as I can remember has been to purchase those produced by
the St Vincent de Paul Society, conveniently available after Sunday Mass.
Every year, there are two distinct sets available, and every year a member
of the local Conference says, ‘I’ll give you some of each’.
I am always faintly amused. After all, there is a sense in which it would
hardly matter if only one design was available. On the other hand, if
the predictable remark wasn’t made, I would be disappointed!
The next stage is to retrieve the list from last year. In fact,
there are two lists: cards sent and cards received. This is not definitive
however, but rather a memory jog. Someone who didn’t despatch a
card my way last year will not be off the list this year.
My philosophy is that the humble card is an expression of ongoing friendship,
gratitude, a shared history or a common experience. Even if, in some
cases, this has not been acknowledged for a year, it remains significant.
I see the season of Christmas (or to be precise, Advent) as an opportunity
like no other to ‘touch base’ and to express good wishes
for the coming year.
Ideally, all the cards are inscribed in one weekend session. I gather
cards, lists, stamps and address book, and a glass of wine—well,
it is the festive season. There will be a glass platter depicting a nativity
scene nearby, a gift from a dear friend. In the background is a CD of
Christmas music, so that at least three of the senses—taste, hearing
and sight – are engaged. If I have a scented candle or some essential
oils, then the olfactory sense is also satisfied!
While I am not a devotee of the practice of despatching the
ubiquitous family newsletter, I do believe in choosing the card and inscription
to suit the recipient. For example, some greetings are suitable for a
family rather than an individual.
If the recipient has been bereaved during the year, I would be careful
to acknowledge that this Christmas will have a shadow not previously
experienced. While this may alter the tone of the message, even if it
is almost twelve months since the loss, the first Christmas is inevitably
confronting. Just before Christmas 2005, Jack Dominian, a renowned writer
of works on Christian marriage whose wife had died the previous July,
wrote, ‘Grief is the price we pay for love’ (The Tablet,
17 December 2005).
Sometimes working through the list stirs painful memories—of what
is, or what might have been. Since Christmas falls so close to the end
of the calendar year (although not the liturgical year), it provides
an opportunity for reflection, for ‘taking stock’, for forgiveness
and, where appropriate, moving on. A friend uses the expression, ‘Build
a bridge, get over it’ and sometimes there is wisdom in that!
When the recipient of the card is someone I have not seen or spoken to
for some time, I try to include a personal note so that the card takes
more than a few seconds to read. Usually there is a piece of news or
reflection that will mean something to the individual concerned, and
indicate that they were truly in my thoughts in a sustained way. To me,
if despatching Christmas cards has become just another task, even one
that is resented, it is time to stop!
The other side of the equation, of course, is receiving cards. I always
anticipate this with joy, and when the postmark or handwriting is unfamiliar,
there is a certain pleasure in the mystery.
When the card is too juvenile, or features a teddy bear or a kangaroo,
for example—the links of each with Christmas being somewhat tenuous—I
am disappointed. But I remind myself that after all, and especially at
Christmas, it’s the thought that counts. I always expect that one
or two cards will arrive after the Feast of St Stephen, and am rarely
disappointed.
Displaying cards received is very much part of the season. I string them
around a baker’s stand, punching holes in each and using narrow
ribbon to tie them. Tedious perhaps, but once fixed, they are not subject
to the air conditioner’s breeze!
At twelfth night it is time to take them down, and eventually recycle
them, but I can’t bear to do that too soon. And some cards will
always be kept … For example, I still recall the illustration
of a card sent by a former Year 12 student, Christmas 1984. By the following
winter, she was dead, killed in a road accident.
Christians cannot conceive Christmas without acknowledging the cross.
After all, if there had been no crucifixion-resurrection, Christ’s
nativity would not have been commemorated. Cards depicting the visit
of the Magi inevitably recall the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh,
the latter being the spice used to anoint the body of one who has died.
When you are writing your cards, you never think that it might be the
last communication with—or from—an individual. But you never
know …
