It’s good to just be
is is what Christmas feels like for some people
Deadlines. Endless deadlines. ree in one week for our o ce, to be precise.
Or is that four? Honestly, I’ve lost count.
We may feel like rats on a treadmill at this time of year, with the seemingly endless demand for stories and photos – and no shortage of Christmas assignments to keep us going late into the night.
Christmas holidays typically mean more work for us as many other people enjoy a well-earned break with their families close by, gathering under the tree on Christmas morning or around the dining table for turkey.
Yes, it can be easy for journalists to hate this time of year.
Especially if, like me, you’re thousands of miles away from your own family.
Which is why it’s good, as someone told me last week, to stop and just be
– even if the news never stops pelting you.
I was fortunate enough to do just that ve days before Christmas, at a local church in Bible Hill that hosted a Blue Christmas.
It’s easy to forget that many of us at this time of year are dealing with issues such as bereavement, loss or, like me, simply being far away from everyone.
It was the one time so far this month that I had a chance to sit down, take a breath and look at the beautifully decorated Christmas tree on the far wall, glowing in the dimlylit hall.
It did bring me back to the Christmases of my youth in England, when it was easy to take for granted the fact that your family and friends will always be around you.
As a child, I certainly had no idea that I would one day move to Canada and swear an oath to become a citizen of this beautiful land.
Sitting in the pews of that church forced me to reflect and think about the last 11 years of my life here, since I stepped o a plane on Aug. 28, 2007 to begin a Master’s degree in journalism. Yes, I still remember the date. Every immigrant remembers the date they rst set foot in their new home.
I always knew that Canada was my home. I had no idea what exactly it meant at the time. I had no idea it may mean not being able to sit down for Christmas dinner with my parents and sister on Christmas morning.
Indeed, being a journalist – and an immigrant – is in many ways a journey of personal sacri ce. Sacrificing time at home with family, nights out with friends, weekends away.
We yet choose to do it, because we’re lucky enough to work in a job that we love.
Being in the reporting business has helped me understand, all to clearly, that I am lucky, in that I do have a loving family that I will soon be visiting, even if they live far away.
Reporting is a job that helps you to be all the more grateful for those rare moments of stillness.
A eeting chance to just be.