I’ve decided that Rudolph is really a normal deer who has a very bad cold.  Which makes him even that more admirable considering that he not only went to work on a moment’s notice, but pulled a sleigh loaded with an overweight guy and enough presents for every kid in the world at 30,000 feet.  I am definitely not a Rudolph.

I have come to this conclusion after catching a glimpse of myself in the mirror between sneezing fits and noticing that my once cute little schnoz has now taken on more of a WC Fields complexion.  Cute is definitely not a word that would remotely describe it now.  Neither would it describe my demeanor.  I may have the nose of the esteemed reindeer, but I certainly am not sporting his winning and willing spirit!  Instead of wallowing in the joy of the season, I am wallowing in self-pity.  My inner child is alive and well and throwing a major “it’s not fair!” tantrum.  As I sit home alone on day three of what was supposed to be a romantic snowed-in weekend, I am surrounded by boxes of tissues and every drug and homeopathic remedy I could find.  My thrill for the weekend was sitting in a steamroom at the YMCA. 

But back to Rudolph…   I remember as a kid reading our circa 1939 version of the story and being struck by three things:  One:  How creepy the pictures were, Two:  How mean the reindeer were to Rudolph, and Three:  How Santa never really seemed to care about him until he needed him.  (Perhaps I did have a bit of cynicism brewing in me at an early age….)  Reading it today I still think the pictures are creepy and so are the other reindeer, and I’m still not too thrilled with Santa’s not standing up for him sooner , but there is another take I have on this.  I am seeing Rudolph in a whole new light, if you’ll excuse the pun.  Here’s a guy sidled with something that made him an outsider, with seemingly no one there making it “ok” for him.  He tries to fit in by trying to cover up his “uniqueness” but that doesn’t work and he’s left feeling worse than ever.  And then that moment comes when he is given the opportunity to see that which he had thought of as his curse as truly his gift. And better yet, he sees how by using his gift, he can truly serve others.  His gift is really not an asset until he shares it. 

I still struggle with feeling like I need to figure out what my “gift” is.  This weekend I found that it is definitely not being a compassionate person when sick!  I still harbor a belief that my gift needs to be huge and significant and yet I see daily reminders that what makes a difference really are the little things:  clerks at Whole Foods singing along to the holiday sound track piped throughout the store and putting a smile on my face, getting a note from a cross-country friend wishing me well, or even a simple text message, sent merely to remind me that I am loved. 

As we move into yet another year in our lives, please know that your continued support of this newsletter and of me is truly one of my most precious gifts.  May you find your “Rudolph moment”, blessing others with the unique gift of you!  PS….After telling my daughter about this article she basically told me I’d better watch out (better not cry?), and to “stop hating” and start sending Santa some love!  I went back and re-read the book (pictures still creepy), but discovered that according to this version, Santa didn’t know Rudolph existed until he went to fill his stocking!  Therefore it was the 1960s TV version of Rudolph which gave the apparently inaccurate and unfortunate portrayal of Santa knowing of the abuse and doing nothing about it.  I stand corrected and beg the Big Man’s forgiveness.  Hopefully there will be more than coal in my stocking this year!