Santa and suffering

Holiday complexities

Last Tuesday, my bestie and I walked through City Park which is lit up extravagantly for Celebration in the Oaks.

As we strolled, Laura and I talked about the depth of suffering we’re seeing in our community as ICE abducts our neighbors. We also paused mid-sentence to gasp at the glorious lights that cascaded down tree branches and created elaborate displays of pelicans and alligators.

I described the painful challenges my family has been facing, and Laura held space for me. Every few minutes, I’d stop talking as we heard the whistle of the mini train that tours the light show. We both waved enthusiastically as it passed.

This is a season of tremendous suffering, from campaigns of terror out of the White House to personal hardships. In this context, holiday cheer can feel counterintuitive or even cruel.

But Tuesday’s walk was a stark reminder that suffering and delights co-exist.

I’ve been writing about this duality since the pandemic, when I was introduced to Ross Gay’s Book of Delights. Tuning into delights feels like a practice, one I keep remembering and coming back to.

Delight is not denial. The beauty and the heartbreak are co-occurring.

We’re better equipped to deal with the pain when we can find moments of meaning, connection, or delight. Or even just a passing flutter of good feelings.

The world is heavy right now.

Tuning into moments of delight is not about turning away from suffering; it’s about finding a moment of presence. I’m not ignoring the tragedies of our times or hiding from my responsibilities. Instead, I’m striving to educate myself, remain engaged, and seek out the delights that sustain me.

Walking in City Park with Laura on Tuesday offered a vital source of connection about some of the most painful elements of my life. It also took me outside of myself to the whimsy of a favorite holiday tradition.

As I was feeling a little weepy, telling Laura about a recent struggle, we heard jingle bells and saw a small light on the ground in the distance. I figured someone must be having a late night picnic.

When we got closer, we saw the red suit. I gleefully, involuntarily, exclaimed, “HI, SANTA!” as I waved eagerly.

A surprise Santa sighting evoked such a sincere giddiness in me, I’m smiling all over again as I write about it.

I told Santa that seeing him was the highlight of my day. He said “You telling me that is the highlight of mine, young lady. Merry Christmas!”

Cheers to finding moments of connection and delight this season,

Lelia

Trust Yourself To Try

• What’s a recent delight?

• If the word “delight” feels inaccessible, my friend Marta Hanson suggests we try calling it “noticing.” Consider, what’s given you a moment of noticing?

Celebration in the Oaks, Photo Credit: New Orleans City Park