By Rabbi Rachel Esserman

Years ago, a friend challenged her Facebook friends to post something daily for which they were grateful during the month of November. It was an interesting exercise and mine ranged from the personal to societal, including such things as modern medicine, electricity and running water. No one has suggested doing that again (at least, not on my friends’ list), but November and December are the time of year when many people start to count their blessings before enjoying the holidays.
As of this writing, I have no plans for Thanksgiving and that’s fine. That four-day weekend used to be hectic as I would take over activities for rabbis who were going out of town. For several years, I had a lunch with friends at the Spot Restaurant, but, since that closed, I’ve been OK with just relaxing at home. When my father was alive, my parents and I would go out for Chinese on the day (yes, I know that’s supposed to be on Christmas, but this was our tradition), but that stopped after my father died the Tuesday before Thanksgiving. The holiday has not felt the same since. 
December can be a difficult month. The first Hanukkah of the pandemic was so distressing that, for the past few years, I’ve brightened my holiday by creating new traditions, including lighting a different menorah each night and lighting all of them the last day of the holiday. I also bought eight days’ worth of presents for myself (something that never happened when I was kid), but when a Facebook memory reminded me of that this year, I decided that didn’t suit my mood right now. For a variety of reasons, I’m not up to the quest of finding them (although I confess to many of those gifts being things like calendars I would have purchased anyway).
The most difficult part of this season is a holiday I’ve never celebrated: Christmas. That’s because my little brother Larry, who had Down syndrome, loved Christmas and adored Santa Claus. (One year, he asked for Santa on his birthday cake in January, so, of course, that’s the decoration we put in the cake.) The first December after he passed away, I saw a large inflatable Santa Claus on my way into the office and burst into tears. That’s one reason I go out with friends for Chinese on Christmas Eve: Larry used to come home overnight then (he lived in a group home) and it felt too sad not to have him with me.
As strange as it may sound, though, I’ve come to appreciate the Christmas holiday in a way I’ve never done before after seeing it through the eyes of the individuals who are part of my chaplaincy work. The joy of the season resonates with them in a way unlike any I’ve experienced before. There is pure joy on those faces when they see a Christmas tree or take part in a holiday party. Watching that makes the season easier for me because it reminds me of how Larry used to feel, although he was not always satisfied with the presents he received.
I’ve said during my chaplaincy work that everyone shares everyone else’s holiday. That multiplies the joy. Even when I feel sad during the month of December, I remember that it is a time of light for all of us, each in our own way.