The season of snow, bitter winds, and warm crackling fires is well and truly upon us. The gardens are finally dormant, seed catalogs are piling up, and holiday decorations are coming out along with the wafting scents of baking cookies. I love the Christmas holiday!
Cob here, with my musings this week from Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage. It’s been a fairly quiet week overall, with people traveling to visit with far away family. Folks who were participating in or standing witness for the #NODAPL and Mississippi Stand protests are back home, safe and sound. Birthdays and associated cakes have been appreciated and shared. Meetings are tapering off a bit for the next month, and only the most urgent work is being tended to.
I always appreciate the additional space in my weekly schedule to pay loving attention to my own particular cluster of holiday traditions, participate in caroling, watch my boys perform in their school band concert, and select some meaningful (to them) token of my love.
Many of my traditions originated with my maternal grandmother, who immigrated to this country between the world wars. As a teenager, who spoke no English except for knowing the names of various farming implements (her father was a sales representative for American Harvester in southern Germany), it was a challenging transition. Entering the workforce, she was able to get menial household work, cleaning and cooking. As she gained proficiency in the language, she learned a whole new form of shorthand and found secretarial work.
After marrying my grandfather (a nice boy from New England), she dedicated her life to repaying all those who had helped her to integrate into our country and culture in so many ways. She had so much gratitude for all who befriended and welcomed her, even as her two countries were at war, and anti-German sentiment was on the rise. Having experienced the hatred and violence that can be whipped up by political posturing and rhetoric, she always sought to repay her benefactors by “paying it forward” to other, newer immigrants.
Preparing meals to take out, inviting families over for dinner, chauffeuring non-English speakers to doctor’s appointments, helping navigate public school registration paperwork, finding interpreters, helping seek apartments and negotiating rental agreements, you name it, my grandparents helped. For every subsequent wave of immigrants as the war progressed: Germans, Russians, Eastern Europeans, then the Vietnamese, Malaysians, and Thai people. Indians and black South Africans during the apartheid years. Neither “race” nor religion mattered. They were simply humans in need of friendship and support in their new home.
I imaging that she would be doing the same for the current waves of immigrants from the Middle East. People uprooted by war, drought, inimical regimes, victims of ethnic cleansing, all simply seeking to live in peace and safety. Unfortunately we historically seem to have trouble “making room” for newcomers. Having arrived earlier we seem to feel threatened, and respond with anger and invective, worried that they will take our jobs or threaten our families. Eventually, we embrace them and their contributions to our society and culture.
Chinese New Year, St. Patrick’s Day parades, Octoberfest, Ukrainian dancing at folk festivals, Dia de los Muertos, or even taco trucks and Halal vendors on street corners. I enjoy all these traditions, that celebrate the stories and history of each group of humans. Every year, my traditions remind me of the amazing diversity of life on this planet, and the fragile yet strong bond of our common humanity.
As you prepare your holiday meals, gift from your abundance, sing hymns and carols, and perhaps retell the story of a young couple struggling under foreign oppressors, seeking shelter, and a miraculous birth, I encourage you to make room. Make room in your stable. Make room in your life. Make room in your heart.
Make room for all those whose personal stories are yet unknown, whose traditions are different and unfamiliar, or who simply need the compassionate support of a friend while they find their feet. If I have food on the table and in the pantry, I have abundance. If I have shelter and warmth in this winter season, I have abundance. If I have people who know my story and care about my health and well-being, I have abundance.
I have this abundance because of those who came before. Not just my own immediate family, but the many strangers who made room in their own lives for our immigrant ancestors. In the face of increasing violence and hate crime, reactionary political nonsense, and military aggression, surely I can do no less.
Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, and yes, Seasons Greetings!
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Dancing Rabbit Ecovillage is an intentional community and nonprofit outside Rutledge, in northeast Missouri, focused on demonstrating sustainable living possibilities. Find out more about us by visiting our website, reading our blog, or emailing us.