My friend Leslie LOVES Christmas. The music, the decorations, the gift giving, all of it. She wears Christmas tree earrings and protects her phone with a holiday case. I do none of these things; I am the Scrooge to her Santa. Years ago, Leslie decided I needed some holiday inspiration, and she invited me to go Christmas shopping with her. A bold move as I do not like shopping, but I don’t think she realized that when she asked. Nevertheless, I went, not because of the holiday sales, but because I wanted to spend time with her. And we’ve been going every year since. Ten years into this tradition, I have learned some valuable things about myself and my friend on these trips. The best year was when I rediscovered the power of Christmas lights.
I grew up with lights on the Christmas tree like many other Americans. But I didn’t appreciate how important they were to my mood during the dark days of December until one of my trips with Leslie. While we perused the holiday section of Target, a string of blinking snowflake lights caught my eye. I picked up the box. Would they be too much? Would they seem too flashy? In a burst of Christmas spirit, I bought them.
As soon as we hung them across our family room, I knew I’d made the right choice. In the shortest days of the year, when it gets dark by five and I want to crawl in bed by six, holiday lights keep me happy. They offer a twinkle of hope, literally and figuratively, in difficult times. And I realized the power of lights has always been with me. It just took me decades to appreciate.
When I was young, light played a big role in my Christmas celebrations. My little family of three attended Christmas Eve church service, and my favorite part was the end. The congregation would pass a flame, candle to candle among the pews, while we sang “Silent Night, Holy Night” and reverently exited the sanctuary. I loved the warm light of the candles, how it made the faces of the adults around me glow. After the service, our family took a circuitous route home, driving through neighborhoods to see the lights on display and choose our favorites. Dad always played Christmas music.
Later, when I had children of my own, I replicated this tradition, driving the minivan through neighborhoods after Christmas Eve service to marvel at the lights with my kids. And croon along to The Drifters singing, “I’m Dreaming of a White Christmas.”
Fast forward to middle age and kids who are taller than me. The year after the snowflake lights revelation, during my annual shopping with Leslie, I found pretty acorn lights to adorn my mantle. These acorns have become my favorite decoration, and I leave them up through February to fight the dark until the days finally grow longer.
Holiday lights have gotten us through some dark times. Back in 2020, my father spent the entire week before Christmas in the hospital. COVID still raged, so we couldn’t visit him, but my daughter stayed with me at his house and kept me company while I managed his medical care from a distance. A cancer diagnosis and the grim reality of the treatments ahead made us crave cheer. We looked online and plotted a lights tour through nearby neighborhoods.
Inspired by those lights, we decided my dad needed similar decorations to welcome him home. We braved a Walmart (very scary to go to a NOVA Walmart on December 23) and found cheerful lights to string across his fireplace mantel and china buffet. The smile on Dad’s face when he saw them more than made up for the hour of commercial torture we spent in Walmart.
A lot of research supports the theory that light boosts mood. Visit the websites of Psychology Today, Nature, and The National Institutes of Health to learn about the power of light to dispel depression and boost energy and focus. However, those studies don’t refer to Christmas lights. It doesn’t matter. The acorn lights on my mantle and twinkling snowflakes in my family room definitely lift my mood, and I will keep using them.
Just this morning, I listened to a great podcast that reaffirmed my belief in the power of lights. I’m a practicing Christian, but I enjoyed hearing Rabbi Amichai Lau-Vavie’s insights on how Jewish people can use the lights of the menorah to find comfort.
The holidays can be difficult for many of us. Perhaps we struggle with grief, stress, or depression. Perhaps we are sick or caring for someone who is. Perhaps, like me for many years, we only see the holiday as work. (I have four kids. It’s a lot of work.) Whatever brings you joy this season, embrace it with abandon and get rid of what doesn’t serve you. For me and my house, we will revel in lights.
What holiday traditions bring you comfort?
Happy holidays!
