Too Much Holly, Not Enough Holy?

Winifred M. O'Rourke was a writer and journalist in Saskatoon.

The title of this book immediately attracted me. The subtitle, “Searching for Christmas,” affirmed that the author is concerned about various pre-Christmas events that occur in our secularized world.

Author Patricia Wilson lives on a farm in Prescott, Ontario, and works for an Ontario government agency. Her book (one of several she has written) is a collection of letters written to a close friend who now lives “on the other side of the continent.”

At the beginning of each chapter there is a Scripture quotation relevant to the point she is making. The first letter is dated January 6 and opens with an expression of thankfulness that Christmas is over for another year. Wilson writes that, due to commercialism, the real celebration of Christmas is sidelined, and she tells her friend that her New Year’s resolution is to try to make Christmas different — Christ-centred. She is determined not to be caught again in the usual pre-Christmas rush.

As the book proceeds, the author endeavours to show her determination not to be caught up in “Christmas rush.” She tells her friend that she is knitting sweaters at the beach in August. Then she writes, “the first cold tendrils of reality have brushed against my New Year’s resolution.” She is referring to attendance at the first “work-night” of the annual church bazaar. Determined not to be involved, she goes with a cheque ready to donate. However, circumstances at the meeting weaken her resolve and she returns home with patterns of items to make.

As autumn and Thanksgiving approach, the author is dismayed that the “Santa” parade is scheduled for November 1, immediately after Hallowe’en. She attends with her daughter in a cold drizzly rain. Although considering leaving before the end float appears (Santa), they stay and see following that float a young couple dressed in biblical clothes with the woman, “very pregnant,” seated on a donkey. Wilson comments on the impact of that on those who see the scene.

The author writes of other “infringements” on her enjoyment of the autumn season. She tells how she tried to discontinue the custom of making an Advent wreath because of the apparent disinterest of her two children in recent years, and how this idea was thwarted by the same children, who insisted the tradition be continued.

When Christmas does arrive, Wilson describes the joy of the church services and the Christmeal with family and friends, and feels that she had found the lost treasure of Christmas — love.