https://open.substack.com/pub/kkerriga1/p/merry-womens-christmas-on-january?r=1hgbx7&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=email
Maggie’s Angel. A Historical Tale.
Dreaming of my Great, Great Grandmother’s Guardian Angel …
Carefully, caring for the eggs last spring brought the best succulent fowl in autumn! Together, my neighbor Ella and I raised six very plump turkeys, chickens, and geese this year. Easily, we peddled them at The Christmas Market. Bringing in extra money, we could indulge in buying sugar, flour, and spices! I imagined scrumptious baked treats for our families and keeping a little money to feast with our friends even on Women’s Christmas, The Twelfth Day!
Caught up in so much hustling, bustling, good cheer, I proclaimed, “Ella, When I count my blessings, I think of you twice!”
Back home during the weeks before Christmas, despite the blowing, cold, rainy wind, we whitewashed our homes inside and out. With our children, we gathered sprigs of holly, with prickly leaves reminding us of Christ’s Crown of Thorns. When we cut the clinging Ivy, we thought to never cut ourselves off from The Trinity! Finally, we picked mistletoe with those oval shaped leaves and clusters of white berries to represent new life and romance. The hearth looked festive with hanging stockings and smelling of fresh evergreen adorning our mantle. Ella and I baked Christmas cake and warm brown bread giving a homey aroma of cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. We even served sweet short bread with our own churned butter. Of course, we never forget to bake the sweet loaf for The Laden Table on Christmas Eve.
Several years ago, we were able to splurge but many sparce Christmases followed! I always remember to be happy with what I have so I will have plenty to be happy about!
Practicing the finest of Irish hospitality, céad mÃle fáilte (Kade meal a fall cha) a thousand welcomes, we placed flickering candles dancing in each window to guide The Holy Family and the lonely to our homes.
Ella exclaimed, “The gayety will go on for hours with jovial singing, lively dancing, a few sips of whiskey and delightful storytelling!”
I responded, “The craic (crack), merry making will accompany the high-pitched sounds of my husband John’s tin whistle and your husband James’ old drum keeping our beat! We always do this only after kneeling to pray the rosary. Our little thatched cottages smelled divine and filled with joyful Christmas abundance!”
Every evening, I carefully smoor the fire, breathing in the sweet, smokey scents before bed as I remember my mother and grandmother had done likewise. I put our fire to bed each night, pondering the ritual passed on for generations. Near Galway, women have kept the hearth fires going for more than three hundred years!
Making a sign of Dear Brigid’s Cross in the glowing orange and red embers, I pray,
“In The Name of The Beloved Three to save, to shield, to surround, our hearth, our home, this eve, this night. O Bless and protect all, this eve, each single night. May it be so!”
On Christmas Eve, I set The Laden Table, by leaving out a loaf of sweet bread, a pitcher of milk and a lit candle so Dear Mary, Joseph and the poor can easily find it. I always keep the door open so our Holy Guests will come in!
Before I could finally retire to bed, suddenly, I heard a deafening, swooshing wind in the hearth! I jumped back from the voice harkening at me through the draft.
“Beannachtai, (Ban ukh tee) Greetings, call me, CáitÃn (Kath-leen) your guardian angel! I came to support you with all your preparations to make Christmas splendid!”
“What?” Maggie wondered. “Here goes my faltering hearing again!”
“Stay confident, you are hearing your guardian angel’s voice! Constantly, my presence partners with you. No reason to fear my companionship. I want you and Ella to ceiliúir (kell u rah) celebrate Nativity Days to the fullest including a stupendous time on The Twelfth Day, Women’s Christmas! Kindly prepare for us a cupán tae (cup on tay) cup of tea so we can converse here together for a while.
I tried to relax while preparing the tea still wondering, “Me, enjoying tea with my own guardian angel? Good gracious!”
Like a gentle breeze, I sensed CáitÃn’s closeness in the glorious days and nights of Christmastide! Relishing the late nights, when guests left and with the family in bed, I smoor, the fragrant sweet moss fire and sit rocking, no doubt my guardian angel rocks nigh.
Unbelievable, the eleventh night already here, our families convened again. I decided to make a change to the Eleventh Night custom. Each family member will say the name of someone deceased and light a candle. Instead of that old morbid omen, we will use candles to remember our loved ones. Blessed assurance, when the candles go out, no worries, our loved ones continue with us always!
On Women’s Christmas Day, Ella and I hosted with our friends, sisters, mothers, and aunts. Our kinwomen joined us for a fine spread of fruity, nutty Christmas cake soaked in whiskey! We offered malty, black tea to drink. At the same time in Ella’s house, while watching the children, John and James would be putting the goose on a spit in front of the fire, to move the bird to gauge with the heat. In my mind’s eye and nose, I imagined the savory roasting goose, grateful that Ella and I did not have to pluck the feathers! After a wonderful afternoon of rare reveling with the other womenfolk, we gathered to enjoy the luxury of being served supper! John, James, and the children even cleared the table. Later, to the rhythm of our heartbeats we prayed the rosary. I contemplated, even on The Twelfth Day, Women’s Christmas had been full of lavishness and not just leftovers!
Finally, before I smoored the fire in the hearth, I set out a bucket of water on my dresser. How fitting to remember the story of Mary at Cana and the extravagant wedding feast. The entire Christmastide has felt like Cana came to our little cottages! Lastly, I sat cozy in my rocker with the warmth of my tea, my guardian angel on the other rocker so near, treasuring the memories.
After I went to bed, the chimes of the clock struck midnight. I dreamed CáitÃn came swooshing in the wind down the chimney straight to my bucket turning the water to the finest wine. Slainte’!
While owls keep watch in the forest, in the stillness of the night, O Sacred Three, gather our hearts to you. As the world sleeps, may our hearts awaken to your presence. Bathe us in the light of your wisdom. Guide us through the darkness and grant all of us peace with justice in your embrace. May it be so!
Customs of Women’s Christmas Then and Now
Women’s resilience, whether famous or not, can be celebrated by observing Women’s Christmas! A tradition that started in Kerry and Cork, Ireland. A great opportunity for women who have often organized and prepared most of the holiday festivities, to finally be given a day off to celebrate with their friends and female relatives on the last day of Christmas. In some of the older traditions, a woman had raised turkeys to sell at Christmas markets and kept the profits to spend on some special items for holiday meals. If there was any left over, she would spend it on herself. Because it was the end of the celebrations, there probably was not much left. She might gather a few women in her house for tea and currant loaf. The traditional household responsibilities were reversed for the day. The men would watch the children, do the housework, and cook the evening meal. Very fortunate families would have a goose for the last day of Christmas dinner. Critics will point out that everyone else had the holiday’s best and she often had the leftovers.
Traditions included lighting Twelve candles on the evening before January 6th. Each family member would light a candle representing themselves. The first candle to go out represented the first person who would die in the new year. This omen may have come from how difficult the 19thcentury was in Ireland. Therefore, the eerie omen was not necessarily morbid but just realistic.
My tale imagines my great, great grandmothers having at least this one exceptional Christmas time in the mid-nineteenth century. Given the conditions in Western Ireland for poor Catholic families who would later immigrate to North America, my hopeful tale might be unrealistic for them. But my reimaging on their behalf may bring healing to a little of the inherited intergenerational trauma that came across The Atlantic with them. I recognize they brought tremendous resilience capable of making it over the ocean as well! Recovering some of the traditions expressed in this story as practices for today may help with healing what is buried deep in multigenerational memory. I am beginning to recognize that there are other branches of my family tree, who were not famine era Catholics and contributed to the oppression that the story I wrote, conveys. My family tree contains both the oppressors and the oppressed in her complex branches that go back far beyond what we can name.
For today, we could light twelve candles for the women ancestors on our family tree and invite them to support us during the upcoming year. Another practice honors The Wedding Feast of Cana. Before going to bed on this last day, women would set a bucket of water on their dresser. Legend was that the water would turn to wine at midnight, but it was considered very bad luck to try to observe this miracle. Most of these customs were not written down but just passed on through the generations orally. Recovering old customs, transforming, and creating new traditions to suit the experience of contemporary women will make the day even more meaningful.
A revival of Women’s Christmas is happening in Ireland and extending across the world today. All women are invited to celebrate whether you have Irish Heritage or not. Some women may choose to go out to the pub with their friends. Other women may decide to have a more reflective way of observing the day. Collections may be taken for women’s shelters. Events may include talks on Women’s Health, Education, Leadership, those who are Marginalized and Women Authors. The gathering can make resolutions for women to support each other. Many holidays only honor certain kinds of women based on being a mother or their marital status etc. Women’s Christmas is an inclusive occasion for all women to enjoy!
Merry Women’s Christmas!
In Loving Memory of and surrounded by My Four Irish Great-Grandmothers.
Beannachtai’, Blessings,
Karen Kerrigan, ARCWP
