Alex Kane: Christmas is a time for counting our blessings

Everyone – Christian, atheist, bah-humbug cynic, or whatever – has their own way of spending Christmas. It is unavoidable. It dominates the headlines, the television schedules, the advertising and day-to-day conversations. There is an air of forced jollity when people have to sign up for office parties and Secret Santa gifts. We spend weeks thinking of presents. Many will put themselves into debt. We’ll worry about the logistics of getting family members from A to B on Christmas Day and finding seats for everyone around the table. And on Boxing Day millions of us will sit at home, stuffed and exhausted, and mutter to each other, ‘Thank goodness that’s over’.

I used to hate Christmas. Really hated it. It reminded me that I knew nothing about my first five Christmases, because I’d blocked them out – as I’d blocked out everything else – when I was put in an orphanage at the age of four.

My adoptive parents were brilliant and I wanted for nothing when it came to presents and love. But at the back of my mind – and it was there for decades – was the fear that Christmas Past, and how I was parted from my original family, would come back and find me and do exactly the same thing again: tear me from those closest to me. That’s why I hated the jollity. That’s why I never felt comfortable with all the talk about the importance of family. That’s why Christmas tended to leave me cold.

It’s different today. I still have difficulty with it and I fully understand the sadness and fear it holds for many people. But I have children of my own now; something I thought I would never have. And on Christmas morning – and a lot will depend what time they wake up to plunder their stockings – we’ll all be sitting in bed together.

It is extraordinary to think that these children wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for Kerri and me. The looks and quirks they have, come through us. The lessons and values they’ll carry into life and pass on to their own children come through us. Because of my own background I want to make sure that they remember all their Christmases and that those memories are mostly good ones. Good memories are useful companions on dark days.

Later we’ll all go downstairs to the lounge to see what Santa has left at the fireplace. Megan, who is 20, still loves this moment and ‘plays the game’ for Lilah-Liberty, nine, and Indy, 17 months. If there is anything more lovely than the shiny-eyed delight of a child unwrapping their ‘special’ gift from Santa and wondering how he managed to get it down the chimney, then I have yet to see it. Having no memory of the experience myself I particularly cherish the memories of seeing my own children enjoy it.

My Christmas probably sounds terribly corny. So what? It’s my Christmas and my memories. I have a particular and very special kind of happiness that I never expected to have. That’s probably why I cry now when I watch It’s A Wonderful Life.

Before I met Kerri and before Christmases were shared with her and the children (and the wider family circle of nephews, nieces et al) I dismissed the ‘awful nonsense’ pedalled in Miracle On 34th Street, Scrooge (particularly the Alastair Sim version) and It’s A Wonderful Life. Today, I couldn’t imagine Christmas without those films. They make me feel better. They make me believe that it is possible to change lives: and a belief in what might be possible is a very powerful force for good in a difficult world.

Even if the religious side of Christmas means nothing to you, it is still a time for looking back and counting your blessings: a time when so many of us have much to be grateful for.

I’m well aware that there are people – far too many, if truth be known – who still find it terribly difficult to imagine hope, let alone blessings worth counting. Empty chairs; changed circumstances; unresolved family spats; marital break-ups; life-changing accidents; death; unemployment. All of these take their toll. I have known that toll in my own life.

But I also know that there is no such thing as a situation that can’t be addressed and improved: particularly if there are others who are willing to help. Everyone we see, everyone we meet, has an impact upon us. Everyone is capable of helping someone else. In my own case I was rescued and rebuilt by two people, who knew almost nothing about me, taking a huge leap of faith and adopting me. As the author Matt Haig noted, “The thing that defines a human being is being a human”.

So, wherever, however and with whom you spend it, I hope Christmas will be as kind to you as possible. Best wishes. Take care.