Christmas Magic

I’m not the target demographic for the commercialism of Christmas.

I’m not stylish -- I rarely look in the mirror.

I don’t need the latest and greatest -- my tractor is older than I.

I hate to shop – I get completely overwhelmed when browsing through shelves and racks of junk.

At the same time, like a lot of people, the dark and dreary days of December can bring me down if I’m not careful.

The only way I know to combat the lack of sunlight and the expectations of the season that I struggle to meet is to quit wallowing in my funk.

So a few years ago, I thought about having a party on Christmas Day and inviting everyone who wanted to come.

Only one problem: I don’t know how to plan a party.

I’m not good at decorations.

I can’t play a note of music.

I burn food.

My kids say I ask questions that are too personal.

But I have a superpower: I know people who know how.

I called my friend, Jennie, who gets things done. She called another friend, Kadie, to help.

Our first free Community Christmas Dinner exceeded everyone’s expectations.

While naysayers predicted an enormous, empty, echoing room and far too many leftovers, we hosted 80 people that first year.

Guests drove from 50 miles away.

Many people didn’t want to brave the ice and snow so we took meals to them.

By the third Community Christmas Dinner, Covid was in full force.

We delivered more meals and set up a drive-through.

Several people called to ask for a delivery because they were too sick to get out of bed.

We set plenty of take-out on their doorsteps.

After all, nobody needs to run out of food because she is too sick to go to the grocery store.

By the fourth year, we had regular guests who brought friends, along with new guests who wanted in on the action.

Other people wanted to help serve.

Some even volunteered to do the dishes -- we make a lot of dirty dishes.

We fight against the stigma that our party is only for the lonely outcasts who have no place else to go.

Sure, single people come for dinner, but so do families who don’t want to cook that day.

Parents bring kids and grandparents.

Friends come together.

Some people ask for delivery so they can host an easy party at their house.

We are so glad they do.

Some people already celebrated Christmas with family the night before so their family has other plans for Christmas Day.

Some have run out of grocery money by the end of the month.

With groceries so expensive this year, we have extra to-go boxes ready and waiting.

I hope more people who need some leftovers to get them through the last week of the year will join us.

Don’t worry.

I don’t do much of the cooking.

Volunteers bake pies, stuffing, turkeys and ham.

They bring salads, too.

My daughter, Abby, and a friend peel about 80 pounds of potatoes.

My friend, Andy, plays Christmas carols on his banjo.

Jennie and Kadie decorate.

My friend, Angela, creates beautiful table settings.

We all set up and clean up.

Somewhere along the way, magic happens.

Once again, I’ll forget about the stress of finding the right gift.

I’ll forget that it is dark outside.

I’ll hear laughs and see grins.

I’ll watch strangers lean in and discover shared interests.

For one brief moment, I’ll feel the pain in our world subside just a little.

Guests and volunteers thank my friends and me for this party, but their gift to us is much bigger.

They give us Christmas Magic.