The Christmas Grinch - Rebel Hart Page 0,45
look forward to. No Chris. I used to think my blog and my business meant everything to me, but it meant a lot less when it suddenly felt like the only thing I had left.
The next day at work, I had managed to lift my spirits a little by ordering a salted caramel espresso with foamy milk that warmed my heart every time I swallowed it down. I reminded myself it really was the little things that made all the difference. And anyway, I was never one to let myself stay down in the dumps for long. I’d find some way to make my Christmas special, even if I did have to spend it all by myself. I was already thinking of a gift basket to put together for Margo’s pregnancy sickness. Doing something nice for someone else was a great way to revive the holiday spirit.
I was internet shopping for said gift basket when applause startled me all of a sudden. I looked over the top of my screen to see Joel and Veronica coming in all smiles, clapping for me.
“The last time you two came in here in such a good mood, it ended up being awful,” I groaned. “Please tell me you have good news that is actually good this time.”
“Your article on Palmer,” Joel announced. “It’s one of our top five most popular posts of all time. The numbers on views and shares are...absolutely remarkable.”
“Oh, good,” I sighed, turning back to my screen.
“This isn’t just good news, Hazel! This is fantastic news! I thought you’d be happy!”
“I’m just glad it’s over with,” I confessed. “But...I’m happy that you’re happy, Joel. And of course it always brings me joy when the site is doing well.”
Joel shot Veronica a disappointed look. “Well, lunch on me for the whole office to celebrate,” he proclaimed, strolling out into the workroom.
Veronica hung back and took a seat. She pulled up her phone and started to read. “While the Palmer Department Store’s annual display should be a time-honored tradition that we hold dear to our hearts, like any tradition...it can fade and lose it’s meaning, especially when put under too much pressure. Often we try to cling so tightly to the things we love the most that we end up pushing them away.”
“What’s your point?” I grumbled.
“Having too high of expectations for a business you love...or Christmas, or family, or even love itself...can ruin everything that’s good about it. Sometimes we have to take a step back and accept all the flaws and imperfections the same way we would triumphs and times of everything working out perfectly. The quiet moments in between of doubt or uncertainty, or even tragic endings, are just as important as the fairytale moments and happily ever afters.”
“I know what it says, Veronica. I wrote it.”
“That’s why when we are confronted with opinions about people who would be easy to judge and write off, we should honor their humanity. We should give them the grace of making mistakes and having flaws...because we all do. I wish nothing but joy and prosperity to the Palmer family and their business, and the rest of us should too. All that pressure to be perfect may end up robbing us of all the things they provide us that we take for granted...like the annual display we all show up for and marvel at year after year.”
She finally put her phone away and stared at me intently. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
“No,” I huffed. “No point. The article is out. Joel and the readers are happy. And I guess I learned a valuable lesson.”
“That’s real sweet and all, Hazel. But we’ve been working together for two years now, and I can tell when you’re upset.”
“Yes, I am upset,” I sighed. “But maybe you should read the article again. I’m upset, but I recognize that’s a part of life. I can’t make Chris have feelings for me any more than I can make my family stay home for the holidays. Consider this my control freak, perfectionist rehab moment.”
“Well, hon...He’s a real idiot if he doesn’t come to his senses and realize what he lost,” she told me. “And if you need somewhere to go for Christmas, you know you’re always welcome with me and my family.”
“Thanks, Veronica. I really appreciate that. You’re the best. Which reminds me…” I kneeled down to dig through my bag, pulling out a small wrapped box. “This is for you. Merry Christmas.”
She traced the logo on