Thanksgiving approached, and in a weak moment I accepted the invitation to serve Thanksgiving dinner to the consumers of an organization that serves the needs of indigent persons experiencing mental illness and mental retardation. This simple experience of serving dinner forever changed the way I view and live "the holidays."

The air was brisk as I was escorted through a 3-person deep line that stretched half a block around the building. My escort said that the line began forming hours ago, and for just a moment I considered what it must be like to wait in line on a cold winter day to have Thanksgiving dinner with strangers.

My job was to scoop the stuffing, potatoes, and gravy on to plates as folks went through the cafeteria line. The doors opened, the line moved quickly, and the cafeteria tables filled. There was a fragile and worn-looking woman standing at the end of the line. She had the look of long-term mental illness. As we waited for more turkey from the kitchen, I suggested that she be seated. "I will bring your dinner right to your table in a minute," I assured her. I put the packed tray in front of her, the plate brimming with turkey, stuffing, potatoes, and gravy, hot coffee, bread and butter, and pumpkin pie. Her face lit up, and she quietly clapped her hands close to her chest and exclaimed, "I feel so lucky to be here today to enjoy this dinner. Some folks have nothing!!" I was stunned, but managed to smile back as I blinked back tears. Indeed, some folks have nothing, some wait in line for dinner, and some, like me, grouse about the pressure of the holidays until they are over. The lesson of that moment has lived with me through every succeeding holiday, times that I no longer dread because of the "extra work" and the "holiday stress."

It is widely believed that the winter holidays are an emotional double-edged sword. One extreme, often promoted by the media, is that rates of depression, and even suicide, rise during the holiday season because of loneliness, financial pressures, or simply exhaustion. With respect to suicide, the data are clear; suicide rates are lowest in December and peak in spring and fall according to the National Center for Health Statistics.1

The other extreme is that the holidays are a time of sublime happiness, bringing peace, joy, family closeness, a focus on children, and an emphasis on spirituality. The Internet is replete with advice on how to avoid the perfectionism, exhaustion, and excesses that interfere with the achievement of peace and joy. And, it is good advice.

As the holidays approach, I think about the joy of a woman who stood in line alone on a cold winter day to have a holiday dinner with strangers and who believed that she was blessed. I served her dinner, and she forever changed my perspective on the holidays. Peace and joy to all of our readers!!

Gloria F. Donnelly, PhD, RN, FAAN

Editor-in-Chief

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