I hate Christmas. Part of it is because I am never ready. Since
I moved back to California, my job has been intense with deadlines,
with most of them in December, so I have little brain space to
concentrate on much else.
I hate Christmas. Part of it is because I am never ready. Since I moved back to California, my job has been intense with deadlines, with most of them in December, so I have little brain space to concentrate on much else.
While my sister, the one who received all the genomes related to style, plans her wall colors to accommodate holiday decorations and turn her house into a lovely Christmas-themed wonderland, I’m lucky to get out my Advent wreath and Christmas stockings.
And, mostly, I hate shopping any time of the year, but I am especially repulsed by the buying/marketing frenzy to give people who can buy anything they want, anytime they want, something they may not really want.
I am not a total Scrooge. While my husband (the saint) works with my sister and mother to coordinate the Christmas event for our family, I have maintained two Christmas traditions, in addition to sharing Christmas Eve with my family. Every December, at least once a week, we fill a commuter cup with hot chocolate and drive around neighborhoods to “ooh and aahh” at the Christmas light displays. I have done this with my children since they were toddlers.
The other is the Posada celebration at the Boccardo Family Living Center in San Martin. Every year since 1999, I have looked forward to this celebration as I do no other.
It began five years ago. I can still picture Teresa Torres when she came in through the doors, seeking shelter at the Boccardo Family Living Center in San Martin. Mrs. Torres had brain cancer. She wore a hat that covered up the Frankenstein-like stitches in her head from surgery a month earlier. Unsuccessful finding other housing options, her young family had nowhere else to go after the Ochoa Farm Labor Camp closed for the winter.
Fortunately, the Torres family found a safe place to regroup and recover from anxiety and uncertainty after her surgery. The next month, filled with hope, Mrs. Torres organized a Posada celebration among the guests at the Boccardo Family Living Center to express her gratitude to the staff and the community that supported them through their tough times.
The Posada is a Hispanic tradition during the Christmas season, a re-enactment of Joseph’s and Mary’s journey to Bethlehem. In the Posada, children, dressed as Mary and Joseph, angels, shepherds and Wise Men, lead a candlelit procession of the community. They first approach one door, singing their request to come inside. Behind the door, another group of singers denies them shelter.
The group moves on to another door, where again, they sing a request to come inside. Again, they are denied. They move to the doors of the community room, and, for the third time, ask for a place to rest. This time, the doors fling open wide to welcome the homeless couple, and the entire community sings in jubilation. Joseph and Mary, the angel and the wise men move to a manger that is set up in the fire station playhouse on the playground.
After the procession, the community gathers for a traditional Mexican meal prepared by the families who are staying at the Family Living Center – enchiladas, gallina con mole, beans and rice, salad and atole, a yummy spicy chocolate or vanilla flavored drink.
The courtyard is festive and strung with lights. During the meal, Mariachis entertain the parents with traditional songs. Afterward, they are entertained with folklorico dancing, performed by the children of a family who were clients at the family living center during the first celebration organized by Mrs. Torres. Later, while the children enjoy fun games and arts and crafts, the parents take a respite from the stress of not having their own homes, bask in the feeling of having normal lives if even for a moment, and relax as they sing songs from Mexico.
Not eight weeks after that first celebration, Mrs. Torres died. Her last Christmas was a happy one, secure in the knowledge her family was safe, and she was hopeful for the future. Every year, the staff honors the memory of Mrs. Torres by organizing the guests for a Posada celebration that is not only a representation of the story of Jesus’ parents, but also of the stories of many families who are homeless, like the Torres’. How fitting it is to have it at the Boccardo Family Living Center, a place of hope, like many shelters in our community, which accepts people in need after no one else does.
