Tell me a story

I love holiday stories. I try to buy a new kid's book each Christmas, in honor of how my Dad used to read "The Night Before Christmas" to us girls in our jammies each year (and the hours my dear sister spent reading to me in the old rocking chair with the embroidered people on the upholstery). It's no accident that we celebrate Christmas right around the Winter Solstice. I don't know, but I suspect Hanukkah may be timed this way for similar reasons. Deep under the stories behind the holidays is a universal meaning: Just when things get darkest, the light returns. This time of year is sad for lots of people. It's getting to be winter, after all, even here in Texas. It gets dark, rainy, snowy, a bit bleak. We hibernate in various ways. But the light always comes back. I'll tell a story: A few years back, I had one of my periodic Awful Years. In January, I went into the studio with my band to make a record, which I was financing myself. Halfway through that process, I realized it was a huge mistake and cancelled the project. I was $10,000 in credit card debt, had no band, no finished record, and no prospect of ever finishing it. I was devastated and sure that God had taken away my music. Months went by while I struggled with my beliefs and nursed my heartsick soul. I'm not religious in any way, but I do believe in a Higher Power. I felt very betrayed. I'd tried hard to be a "Good Person." follow my path, and live up to what I believed was my calling. So why was it crashing down around my ears? Christian friends pointed me to the Book of Job. That just made me madder at God -- what kind of benevolent Higher Power would do such sadistic things to a faithful servant? Utter horror. I had to give up self-employment and take on a full-time position, to make a better dent in my debt. I still wasn't playing any gigs. Then, I had a car accident -- my fault. There goes $500 in deductibles and a higher monthly insurance payment. A few months later, a second accident -- again, my fault. Another $500. One Saturday night, I was driving downtown to go see DJ Shadow, trying hard to psych myself up for the evening (group things always scare me a little, especially as I don't drink). I was blasting Prince, if I recall, singing along, when out of the blue, a motorcycle pulled out in front of me and I hit it straight on. The rider was hurt, but mobile. I was hysterical, shamed, scared, horrified at myself and my accident-prone tendencies. The rider was kind about it. I sat down on the curb in a morass of self-centeredness--"God, why are you doing this to me?" (Me, me, me...my favorite song). Then, like a lightning bolt, I got it. God didn't do this to me. God doesn't really care if I sing or not, if I choose to be happy or to wallow in my self-pity and sadness. I have a little boat on a great river. I can choose to paddle it over into the rapids and get swamped and shaken around. I can hang out by the shore for a while. I can stay in the calm waters. It makes no difference to the river--no matter what, I will go where the river is taking me in the end. I knew at the time that this was a huge epiphany. I didn't know (yet) where it would lead. In fact, there was still to be one more car accident that December. I got rear-ended--this time, not my fault. My beloved Mustang was totalled, just four payments away from being paid off. Ahh, there's that $10,000 to get out of debt. A few months later, I was able to quit my job, go back to freelancing, and start singing again in a different way. There's a song that goes, "A dead-end street is just a place to turn around." (Yes, a country song, by Wynonna Judd of all people). So, tell me a tale of how the light has come back in your times of darkness. Let's share some real holiday stories.