My Gentle Hug and a Raised Fist
For some, Christmas is a magical time. It’s a season of Santa and Rudolph, of sparkling lights and warm traditions that transport us to a world where joy reigns supreme and anything seems possible. We set out cookies for Santa, write lists for gifts we hope to find under the tree, and let the wonder of the season wrap us in its embrace. It’s a beautiful fiction, a collective dream we share, and for many, it provides a much-needed reprieve from the mundane.
But while some are lighting candles and sipping hot cocoa, others are struggling to keep their lights on. For many, the holidays are less about jolly cheer and more about the weight of hard realities—grief that feels sharper against the backdrop of celebration, health challenges that no amount of tinsel can distract from, and financial hardships that make the idea of buying gifts feel like an impossible dream.
To those who find comfort in the magic of Christmas: cherish it. There’s no shame in finding hope and happiness in traditions, no matter how whimsical they may seem. Let the stories and songs inspire you. Hold tight to the joy they bring.
But I drove thru Atlanta today and recognized the folks who have given up, living out there in the tents under the highways, rubbing their hands together to keep warm. Even in the mall today, a woman spent $10 with me and was transparent about how she was sleeping on a couch even while holding down her job at Phipps, a high end shopping mall in Buckhead.
I did my best to inspire her, letting her know that I was once there living in a van, showering at LA Fitness, and holding office in the café at STARBUCKS. So, been there and done that for sure, but it also reminds me to pause and recognize those for whom the season is a struggle. The single mother stretching her last paycheck to provide even the smallest semblance of Christmas for her kids. The family grieving an empty chair at the dinner table. The countless people living one emergency away from losing everything. They may not have the luxury to dwell in the world of holiday fiction, and for them, the season brings not magic, but pressure and pain.
To the dreamers, let your belief in Christmas cheer extend to empathy for those who need more than a holiday miracle. To the realists, know that your strength in the face of adversity is a miracle in itself. You’re surviving a world that isn’t always kind, and that resilience deserves celebration, too. How I address it, until I’m completely safe from homelessness, poverty or not knowing where my next dollar comes from, is that I gotta work. I must earn. If I’m not doing that, I must create so that at least I have something to earn from, some value to trade for a dollar.
This season, let’s hold space for both the haves and the have nots. The Dreamers and the Realists. Let the lights of the tree be a beacon of hope, and let the struggles we see remind us to raise a fist in solidarity with those navigating tough times. Because the real magic of Christmas isn’t in the gifts or the stories—it’s in the way we care for one another. It’s in the moments where the dreamers and the doers, the believers and the survivors, come together to create a season of compassion, understanding, and love. Relentless
