The Gift of Imperfection
The following scenario, or some version of it, typically took place on the first Sunday of December, which usually coincides with the first Sunday of Advent—another big deal in my house which included an Advent wreath assembled that very morning in the Church Hall after Mass.
We all knew what was coming later that day as we braced ourselves for the annual recreation of Doreen’s version of decking the halls Norman Rockwell style (spoiler alert…it never quite turned-out way she envisioned).
With Bing Crosby’s rendition of “It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas”playing on the console, the big question of the day was “to flock or not to flock.” It may seem trivial to some, but in the Heffron house, there were two camps – green or white? While the rest of us wanted green, Doreen wanted white; and white is what we got. A fully flocked tree where nary a needle could be detected, white lights, and shiny red balls, each skillfully positioned and tied with a red ribbon. There were no hand-made ornaments, strings of popcorn, and absolutely no tinsel to be had! And kids were unauthorized to decorate unless they passed the bow-tying requirements.
Mic (aka Dad) would haul the tree up to our big deck, somehow hook up the old canister vacuum cleaner to a bag of wet white stuff and set the device to blow out air rather than to suck things up. Only my brother was allowed outside when this special ritual was taking place and inevitably, the hose would detach spraying fake snow all over my dad, brother, and the large windows that flanked our deck. It was a mess and I’m sure my Mic’s “Christmas Spirt” could be heard by the neighbors several blocks away.
While all the “White Christmas” frivolity and outdoor light stringing was taking place, my sister and I were in the kitchen helping Doreen with the cookies. My mother had very little patience for the messiness that accompanies cookie decorating so that activity was always quickly halted and replaced by the making of fudge and our famous popcorn balls, a staple Christmas treat in the Heffron household. The crunchy, gooey goodness of perfectly popped popcorn, Karo syrup, sugar, butter, vanilla, and of course, red and green food coloring was truly a highlight of the season, and a tradition that lives on today! A healthy snack for sure!
As if cookies, fudge, and popcorn balls weren’t enough for the day, it was time for pie baking—the nemesis of the season for my mother. Whoever coined the phrase “easy as pie” never met Doreen. There on the counter sat the red and white checkered Betty Crocker cookbook opened to the pie dough page. It looked easy enough, but no, not so much. Pie dough was not Doreen’s forte, often sparking a heated battle between dough and Doreen. I’m not sure, but I seem to recall pieces of pastry dough being flung in frustration across the kitchen hitting whatever stood in its way, once missing its intended target, and startling our little dog, Buffy. It was not pretty and eventually, much to Doreen’s dismay and delight, I took over the task of holiday pie baking.
Now, while all this was going on, my very creative brother, having cleaned up after the vacuum explosion, could be found in a corner of the kitchen quietly concocting rum balls. Yes, 151 proof rum balls! Delicious bite-sized balls of melted chocolate, Vanilla Wafers, more Karo syrup, more sugar, a splash of vanilla, and a lot more rum than the recipe called for. His stealth demeanor quickly turned to giggles, then to hysterical slurred words celebrating his creation. Of course, Doreen wasn’t all so joyful about his escapades, but Mic was right there volunteering to taste-test the high-octane confections. Personally, I thought it all made for a jollier family! One must have a sense of humor!
At the end of the day and thoroughly exhausted, we joined around our dining table anticipating the joyful season ahead. The first candle of the Advent wreath was lit, and we enjoyed a yummy warm family dinner and shared a few laughs about the day. After the dishes were done, we settled by the fire to watch the Carpenter’s Christmas show together.
We weren’t anything like the families depicted in Normal Rockwell’s beautiful illustrations, and no matter how hard Doreen worked to create the illusion of perfection, we were simply us. Perfection is in the eye of the beholder, and looking back, I can see that we were perfect in our own imperfectness. Just the way we were meant to be.
Both Doreen and Mic are no longer with us, but their spirits live on and I’m grateful to have these memories to share with you all.
A reminder that those we love are passing through
and won’t be here forever.
This holiday season, let go of your ideas of perfection and give the gift of your authentic and imperfect self—to those you love (and maybe even the ones you don’t).
Love and Light,
Michele
December is the perfect time to prepare for the new year.
Give the gift of coaching to yourself or someone you love.
