The 12 Nights of Christmas

T’was the first night of Christmas

And all through your house

Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.

Except suddenly one little soul did appear

It’s your Little Elf, and he brings holiday cheer!

Tonight it’s a partridge for your pear tree

And tomorrow, who knows, You must wait and see

So turn on your porch light each evening with care

And know that your gift soon will be there

But don't try to catch him or he'll disappear!

Have you heard of The 12 Nights of Christmas? Also known as Secret Santa, I came across this concept years ago while reading "In Search of the Real Spirit of Christmas" by Dan Schaeffer. In the back was a chapter describing his family tradition modeled after the 12 days of Christmas. Beginning on December 13 and ending on Christmas Eve, the family left a treat along with a cute poem on a neighbor's porch every evening. The whole idea was to teach kids that giving was just as fun as receiving.

Twelve nights sneaking around the neighborhood playing ding dong ditch? How fun! I especially loved the idea of helping my kids learn the joys of giving at such an impressionable age. And so that December gave birth to a new family tradition for the Fells.

Now our oldest daughter was away at college and our teenage son was busy with high school activities, so that left our two youngest as santas. As I explained what we were embarking on and why, they were thrilled with the idea of sneaking around the neighborhood for any reason. At age 10, our daughter much preferred to be an elf as she was female and Santa was, well, male. But with her 8-year-old brother as Santa, an elf's superior, that wouldn't do either. To keep the village peace, we became elves instead of Santas.

Now as a family of six, we were on a budget. Armed with a shopping list, my first stop was our local dollar store. Thankfully, this was our only stop—everything we needed was there. Taking home our supplies, we got to work printing the poems and preparing the bags while the kids giggled at the notion of 12 nights of mischief over Christmas vacation.

It was already December, and the first night was fast approaching. Fairly new to the neighborhood, we discussed who should be the lucky neighbor. A couple months earlier, I heard that Neighbor Tom had lost his wife to cancer. She was well loved by all who knew her, and I couldn’t imagine what the holidays must be like for Tom and their two children. To my mind, it was clear that Tom’s home could use small doses of nightly cheer. The kids quickly agreed, and the matter was settled.

On the evening of December 13, my two elves giggled nervously as we bundled up and headed out into the night. Sneaking through the quiet snow-filled streets of our neighborhood with a flashlight was as magical for the kids as it was for me; I treasured our memories in the making. Also, I had never realized just how quiet—and beautiful—the cold, deserted streets were at night. It was like another world waited for us each evening, a peaceful, enchanting winter wonderland that could only be experienced on foot. The magic was heightened when the kids giggled over my clumsiness in the dark. Note to self: Get more flashlights. 

Upon returning home from our adventure each evening, we warmed our hands around a mug of hot cocoa, and warmed our hearts around the whim that our nightly surprises might bring cheer to Tom's family.

The next eleven nights flew by and soon it was Christmas Eve, the 12th day when we had to reveal our identity. I suddenly became nervous. I had never actually met Tom, and worried that maybe our nightly gifts had been a bit too much for the family's fragile emotions. But there was no backing down now; we had to finish. That afternoon we arranged a dozen homemade treats on a small holiday plate, covered it with red plastic wrap, taped the final poem to the top and—not trusting my children to walk two blocks with a plate of goodies—we drove to Tom’s house. We climbed out of the car, gathered on his front porch, and I rang the doorbell.

When Tom opened the door, we nervously started singing: 

We wish you a merry Christmas

We wish you a merry Christmas

We wish you a merry Christmas,

and a happy new year!

Well, I ended up singing that cheery first verse by myself because my elves stood glued to the porch with mouths frozen shut. Realizing I was on my own and because my children say I’m tone deaf, I quickly decided that one verse was more than enough for this poor family.

As soon as I stopped singing I realized that Tom and his two children had tears in their eyes! Oh, dear. Was my voice that bad, or was our entire mission just one big flop?

Quickly, I decided the best way to handle this was to explain that we were the Little Elves responsible for the nightly treats, and then leave the poor family alone. After all, it was Christmas Eve and here we were intruding on their fragile emotions. 

But I soon discovered that I had nothing to fear at all: they were crying because of how much they loved the little gifts, and now it was coming to an end! It turns out that Tom and his children not only enjoyed the element of surprise, but the nightly anticipation was a wonderful respite from the constant sadness, and lifted their spirits. Mission accomplished!

That first year proved a wonderful experience and we continued the tradition, choosing a different neighbor each year, until tragedy struck our own family. In 2009, my 15-year-old elf, Aly, died in a car accident while coming home from a swim meet. Caught in my own fog of grief, I had no reserve left in my tank to carry on our family fun with our youngest. With a broken heart, our once beloved tradition came to an unexpected end.

In the years since losing Aly, in fits and starts our family has learned to laugh and feel joy again but I’ve never forgotten how bleak those first holidays felt.

I’ve also learned that helping others helps my own heart to heal.

Now that our grandson is 9—the perfect age to become an elf—reinstating the old family tradition will offer both giver and receiver a nightly dose of good cheer, and enrich our holidays in magical ways just as it did in years past. I already know who this year's lucky neighbor will be, and our gift bags are assembled and ready for delivery starting December 13.

Project Little Elf was inspired by that first year with Tom and his children. Having faced loss since then, I now fully understand how the holidays can feel less than cheery, and how a little kindness can go a long way. And nobody needs it more than the bereaved facing their first holidays.

If you too would like to teach your children how to be givers of kindness and learn the joys of giving, all the instructions and printables to begin your own family tradition can be found at www.GriefDiaries.com.

Above all, the nightly trips to a neighbor’s porch is more than just a little fun. It holds the promise of magical memories for children of all ages, and gives the bereaved the priceless gift of a heart full of cheer they’ll treasure all year.

Happy holidays!

Grief & the Holidays

For most, the holiday season is a cherished time of year when families and friends come together to honor their faith, enjoy a formal dinner, or simply spend precious time together.  But if someone in the gathering is in the midst of profound grief, it can turn the merriment into a tense and stressful time.  Why is the treasured holiday season so difficult for grievers?  Not only are they grieving the loss of someone close to them, but they are also grieving the loss of future holiday memories with their loved one.

Grief is one of the most profound of all injuries, yet the absence of physical wounds can make it difficult to manage.  To help you understand what the griever is facing, it can be helpful to consider the griever as not only gravely injured, but also facing a lengthy recovery that has no end in sight.  With this frame of mind, the following tips can help you support the griever as they work hard to survive an emotionally overwhelming time of year.

1.  Allow the griever to set the tone for how they wish to cope with the holidays, and honor their choices.  Whether they wish to maintain their normal holiday routine, desire to leave town, or ignore the holidays entirely, resist the urge to pressure the griever to handle the holidays “your” way.  They know what’s best for them, even if you don’t agree.  

2.  Recognize that you simply cannot lessen a griever’s pain.  Trying to do so will only exhaust you and, simply put, you cannot do or say anything that will ease the gaping wound of sorrow that follows in the wake of profound loss.  Instead, replace your words with a hug as often as necessary. 

3.  Do not feel guilty when you forget tip #2 above, it happens to all of us.  Remind yourself that the griever is coping with a significant wound that cannot be healed any faster than life itself.  If a simple statement or gesture could fix it, they would have done it.  

4.  Do not avoid the griever.  Your absence will be noticed more than you think.  If the griever asks to be left alone, honor their wishes if it is safe to do so.  Otherwise, include them in the festivities and treat them as you would any other significantly injured guest:  with kindness, compassion, and gentleness.

5.  Resist the urge to try to fill the griever’s calendar with festivities as a way to cheer them.  Just like all healing, grieving is physically and emotionally exhausting and the griever may not have the energy to keep up with all the celebrations.

6.  When around the griever, do not pretend nothing has happened.  That only creates the elephant in the room.  But don’t coddle them either.  Remember, treat them with kindness, compassion, and gentleness.

7.  Do not feel guilty for enjoying your own festivities.  And give yourself permission to take time out for yourself.  The holiday celebrations are a wonderful way to recharge your own batteries, and depriving yourself serves no purpose.  If the griever is present most of the time, then carve out ways that allow you to celebrate in private.  Even small ways can recharge your batteries, like indulging in whipped cream on your favorite hot holiday drink or enjoying a night out with other friends.  

8.  Expect the griever to have cranky moments.  From lashing out in anger to having a meltdown like a small child, pain can easily overload our emotions.  Recognize that the emotions of grief are far too powerful for us to control every second.  If you are having difficulty finding compassion during one of these moments, go outside for a breath of fresh air and take a moment to remember that pain makes us all cranky.  It’s human nature.

9.  If possible, help the griever find a way to honor their loved one’s memory during the holidays.  Treat them to coffee, then “pay it forward” to the person in line behind you in the loved one’s memory.  Or buy a small bouquet of balloons in the loved one’s favorite color and leave it in a public spot for a stranger to find while you both watch discretely.  Or help the griever donate to a cause that was close to their loved one’s heart.

10.  Should the griever find themselves caught up in the moment and enjoying the merriment, celebrate with them.  But be patient if the moment doesn’t last long.  Over time, those precious moments of joy will grow as the rawness softens.

You need not understand the complexity of grief in order to have compassion and sensitivity toward the griever’s discomfort and sadness during the holiday season.  Past memories of merrier times and traditions magnify the loss and sorrow that those times and traditions are no longer, abruptly replaced by a new, often unwanted future.  

Remember that the griever is working hard to cope with a profound injury:  a genuinely broken heart.  Honor the griever’s sorrow by allowing their tears when the emotions become too raw to keep inside.  Tears offers a release from the emotion, and your warm hug and dry shoulder offers the most precious holiday gift of all.