Confronting My Own Envy at a Christmas Celebration

My friend Steve and his wife, Brenda (not their real names), came to our house for a Christmas party. I haven’t seen them for over a year. They are the kindest and most generous couple I know. As we caught up, I realized I was being critical and sarcastic.

I knew I was doing it, but I couldn’t stop myself. I was stuck. I wanted to turn my comments to the positive, to show this couple whom I love some love. At one point, Steve commented, “What’s with the harsh criticism?”

I remember thinking as we talked, “I am putting myself in a terrible mood. I have this dark spirit which is creeping in and taking hold of me.”

And then I remembered I would soon welcome all my guests to the party. I intended to tell them how much Kathy and I love them on this special Christmas. How was I going to do this with any honesty?

My mood got darker and darker the more I talked.

“Snap out of this,” I thought as Steve answered my last question.

It was a big party, so it didn’t take long for me to get distracted by another guest, and I moved on. But I didn’t stop thinking about this awful spirit that was overtaking me. It was time for me to get my guests’ attention and welcome them.

I called Kathy to join me. We looked at the fifty people, enjoying each other as they conversed. She said, “How will we get their attention?” Then she said, “I know. I have a bell. Wait. I’ll get it.”

She began ringing a little glass bell on the way back to me. It made such an innocent and delightful sound. I was immediately brought out of my dark mood into a joyful spirit. One of my guests near me said, “Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings.” It brought back the memories of that closing scene in “It’s A Wonderful Life.” (I watch this every Christmas Eve. I always cry my eyes out.)

I made my welcoming speech. It went well, and the party was light and enjoyable—lots of friends who loved one another enjoyed great food and lively conversation.

This morning, I was reflecting on the party.

More specifically, I was reflecting on my conversation with Steve and Brenda. I wondered, “Why did you go so negative on them?”

And then it hit me. I’m jealous of them. I’m jealous of where they are in life.

They are in their fifties. My fifties were a great time of life. It was a decade of harvesting. Harvesting, although hard work, is immensely rewarding. It is rewarding monetarily but also spiritually and emotionally. My fifties culminated all my learning, networking, and experiences.

When Kathy and I reached our fifties, I was well-established as an angel investor in Atlanta tech. I had momentum. Deals, good deals, were coming my way. I had a few wins, so I had a good reputation. I knew who I was and was settled. I was performing at the top of my game. My kids were mostly graduated from college and were starting careers. We had money in the bank, and we were living large and filled with purpose. Kathy and I were healthy and vibrant. It was a great decade.

This is why I was negative with Steve. I was jealous.

This all happened subconsciously. And that is why, I believe, I was picking at him and tearing at him. This is not the “friend” to Steve I want to be. Steve and I have a twenty-year friendship. He knew the Charlie in front of him was not the Charlie he knew. He loves me and cut me slack. He gave me grace.

One of the last couples to leave the party was Steve and Brenda. We had a very positive and uplifting final conversation. I didn’t apologize but rather was sincerely grateful and encouraging to them. I told them I love and admire them. It settled me for the night; hopefully, it did the same for them.

Merry Christmas!