It’s the curse of every author.
The exact millisecond you finally release a book from your tight grip and allow it to run free in the world, it happens. An anecdote comes your way that would have been perfect for it and you immediately think of seventeen other insights you should have added.
When I wrote Must Be Nice, I didn’t spend any time addressing the holidays, but boy, does that phrase pop up this time of year. And perhaps the bitter tone that accompanies our “must be nice” is a smidge more resentful.
The holiday season looks different to everyone who celebrates. We have different backgrounds and circumstances and inhabit different seasons of life. In certain ways, some people have it “better” than us. But the truth we miss when we utter “must be nice” about someone else is that we also have it better than others. Maybe even the very same people we wish we could be more like.
Those struggling financially may be quick to say it “must be nice” to have the means to provide a bountiful harvest of presents and food for their family. And no doubt, it is.
It also “must be nice” to not be distracted from the true meaning of the season by the trappings of consumerism, a slippery slope that leads to greed, jealousy, and unhappiness.
As a parent whose children are outrunning their childhood, I catch myself thinking it must be nice to have a wide-eyed five-year-old again or a newborn to snuggle this time of year.
But I can also acknowledge that it must be nice to be at this stage; where I can talk about the deeper, more meaningful messages of Christmas with my kids, and be humbled by the selfless generosity I see growing within them.
The person who feels alone might say, “Must be nice to have a family to spend holidays with.”
And the person with the big family might say, “Must be nice not to be pulled by everyone else’s expectations, and to have the freedom to make the holiday your own.”
One person missing a loved one might say, “Must be nice to have your husband with you at the dinner table.”
And another might say, “Must be nice to have ever had a husband at all.”
While yet another says, “Must be nice to have good memories of the holidays; my alcoholic husband made so many of mine traumatic.”
Warning! This is not a contest to prove who has it worse. Nor is it an argument to convince you that other people aren’t better off in certain respects.
It is a reminder, however, that it’s a waste of time to wish for someone else’s must be nice and that a better path might be to identify and truly appreciate your own.
Most importantly, it’s also an invitation to accept the secret, often overlooked gift of the season, beautifully wrapped and waiting just for you.
What is it?
It’s an opportunity.
An opportunity squandered by stewing in jealousy and discontentment.
An opportunity that will not present itself ever again in quite the same way.
It’s the opportunity to create a new memory this year that becomes a must be nice to look back on with gladness for years to come.
And also the opportunity to be a heaven-sent must be nice for someone who desperately needs one this year.
Hmm. An opportunity that offers two gifts in one.
Must be nice.
🤔 I wonder…what is a “must be nice” you are appreciating this time of year?