In 2020, COVID-19 turned our lives upside down. As Christmas approached, there were no live concerts or special events to attend. Shopping was curtailed. Without the usual pre-Christmas activities, I walked around the neighbourhood in the early evenings to enjoy bright Christmas lights. All white at one house, multicoloured at another, red and green at still another.
By mid-December, with COVID cases rising in Alberta, our premier limited Christmas dinners to only one or two persons outside the household. This meant that our extended family dinner of up to 22 people would be cancelled. I stayed home alone.
I had been thinking about doing something special for my neighbours in our cul-de-sac. The COVID lockdown in the spring had brought us together out on the street, chatting and getting to know each other better. So as Christmas neared, I thought of extending good-will by baking cookies for each family. My first reaction was – would people be afraid of home cooked food carrying COVID germs? But the more I turned it over in my mind, the more I received prompts which I know came from the Lord—a message at church, online lists of unique Christmas gifts, and even a suggestion in a magazine.
The Sunday before Christmas, our cul-de-sac was torn by grief. We received news that my next-door neighbour Darrell had died in a freak accident. He had been kite surfing at the family cottage when a gust of wind blew him up, and then when the wind died, he fell. Hard. On his stomach. He was airlifted to an Edmonton hospital but passed away. It was a dark time for his wife, Stacey, and her three children, and by extension, all of us in our cul-de-sac. We showered the family with love and food, letting them know we cared.
Could this be the way the Grinch of COVID Christmas would steal meaning to our darkest time of the year?
A day later, snow began falling just before dusk. And falling. And falling. Early next morning while it was still dark, I went out to clear off my driveway. Oh! My! Goodness! The snow was heavy and deep. Several neighbours across the street banded together to shovel and push a car that was parked along the street—someone would be late for work! People brought out their shovels and snow blowers and began clearing their driveways. The owners surrounding the widest circle of the cul-de-sac piled the snow into one huge snowbank in the middle—a perfect playground for the children.
I kept watching the activity as I shovelled, throwing the snow up to the ever-increasing ridges beside my driveway. I tired out when I was only half finished, so I came inside for breakfast. When I returned, my next-door neighbour Don volunteered to finish with his snowblower.
It was a delightful morning. Neighbours helping neighbours.
Meanwhile, I had been baking Christmas cookies. Then the day before Christmas, I gift-wrapped them and wrote Christmas notes, especially thanking each household that had decorated their houses and yards with lights. I was surprised as so many thanked me. Before I was finished, Liana across the street texted that her children were already eating and loving the cookies. No fear of COVID germs there! The Italian family wished me a "Buon Natale." Janice said that I made her day.
On Christmas Eve, Karen next door brought over a Ukrainian dinner—her husband Don has Ukrainian heritage--cabbage soup, buns, pierogies, cabbage rolls, haddock, Kucha, wheat dessert, turtle brownies and two peanut butter cups. What a sweetheart! While eating, I watched online the replay of my usual Christmas Eve service—but this time attended by only a few people.
On Christmas day, our cul-de-sac was unusually quiet, with almost no traffic and smaller than usual dinners. Kids and neighbours dropped off thank you gifts, saying how much they appreciated my hospitality.
The next evening, Karen brought over a traditional Christmas dinner—lovely turkey and ham with all the accoutrements—enough for two meals. I did have a moment of emotion to know I wouldn't be with family this year, even though I had arranged a Zoom meeting with everyone the next day, our usual 26th family dinner.
For the rest of the evening, I listened to The Messiah and other Christmas CDs and knew that Christmas was not cancelled, just delightfully different.
What the Grinch of COVID didn’t understand was that our isolated world needed love, kindness, and neighbourliness. He did not understand that God was still with us. Nor did he understand that the darker the time, the brighter the light shines.
He could not steal our Christmas.
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