Christmas makes me sad.
It's never perfect like I suppose I expect it to be. The commercialism of it all leaves me feeling like I missed the message. I hate that I get wrapped up in wrapping, buying, shopping, cooking, cleaning, decorating, and entertaining. And all the work--physical and emotional--trying to create Christmas in my ideal image leads to a massive denouement that leaves me flat like a deflated balloon.
This year the only time we spent in church, during the entire Advent season, was on Christmas Eve. And that was on a whim. Apparently, keeping Christ in Christmas was one of many things that didn't get checked off my to-do list.
Some Christmases I have worked all year long, hoping to spread out the chores, just so Christmas could be quiet and reflective. But it never seems to pan out that way. In my mind, though, The Perfect Christmas continues to be a sought-after ideal.
I recently told my sister that the Christmas in my mind is quiet. It takes place in the mountains, in a small log cabin, and the only gifts are bird seed, table scraps, and suet. I am putting up preserves. It's snowing.
Trouble is, there are no other humans in that scenario. So what's wrong with me?
And here's my self-diagnosis. Maybe you have some of the same symptoms. Maybe this will help you too.
Call me an old curmudgeon if you wish, but the Christmases of my memory were more meaningful. We used to have to wait for that special toy. Baked ham was served once a year, and fudge was made only at Christmas. Stores weren't decorated until after Thanksgiving.
Now, we are all drunk on the must-haves. We wait for nothing. If we want something, we buy it, from houses we cannot afford to the latest techno toy. There are no more Christmas lists, at least none that exhibit any amount of self-denial.
We do not write letters. We email. We Skype. We text. The world is a smaller place. And this smaller planet no longer has need for a child's artistic, imperfectly drawn Christmas cards, or once-a-year Christmas phone calls. If we want to watch "How the Grinch Stole Christmas" we just pop it in the dvd player. No more waiting for that magical night when it came on television once a year.
When our family went on vacation, it was either to Myrtle Beach or to visit relatives. If summer included the beach trip, then it was something Mom and Dad saved for all year long. I was 26 before I visited a Disney Theme Park. My daughter, on the other hand, has been to Disney at least six times. She is 15 years old. That's every other year, folks.
Humans are the only animals with the ability to delay gratification for a significant period of time. But we choose instant gratification more often than not, grasping the quick reward rather than the long-term benefit. In doing so, we as a race, as the king of the hill in terms of superiority in nature, are collectively choosing to take a step back on the evolutionary scale.
Ironic, wouldn't you agree?
And the problem with that is that there is value in waiting. There is value in working for something.
When we must work toward a goal we often come out on the other side more resolved, more committed, more appreciative. It toughens us. We form personality "scars." And just like physical scars, personality scars are "thicker skin" that give us dimension and build character. They are the clear evidence of determined growth, despite setbacks.
I recently read an article that described just this phenomenon. It articulated very well that the tough times of our parents taught them to cope. Psychological researcher Dr. Mark D. Seery found that people who experienced no negative life events shared similarities to people who had a miserable life.
Bingo.
Perhaps I find it difficult to enjoy Christmas because I expect too much out of it. Perhaps I am like a spoiled little kid who didn't get everything on her list, and now is throwing a temper tantrum rather than being grateful for what I did receive.
So how to fix? Do I deprive myself of things I would like to have?
Yes. If I don't need them. Yes, even if I think I do. And how much do I really need, after all? Maybe I teach myself to wait, instead of pedagogically determining to teach others. Maybe I start with me.
Do I make a conscious effort to appreciate the people in my life who are important to me?
Yes. Above all. Because relationships are the most important ties to other souls we have here.
Do I quit worrying about the gifting and the wrapping and the cooking and the decorating?
Yep. I do not allow the trappings of commercialized Christmas to overshadow the holyday, while still being careful not to neglect friends and family in some meaningful way. Maybe that looks more like washing my mother's car once a month for her, or showing up at a neighbor's house with a steaming pot of beef stew in advance of her holiday company's arrival. Maybe I spend time with my daughter in the kitchen, making memories and thumbprint cookies. I definitely spend more time with God, whether that is in church, in nature, or in prayer. He'll meet me anywhere, even the layaway line. He'll even meet me in the tone I take with that rude shopper.
And what do I do when Christmas has come and gone again, and once again I haven't done it well enough?
I take my cue from Clark Griswold's mother. When all Clark's efforts to illuminate the exterior of his house resulted in an infestation of twinkle lights that didn't work, his mother said she could picture it in her mind, and it was beautiful.
I determine to side-step bitterness, and instead, choose thankfulness. "Count your blessings," mother always said. There is eternal value in that commandment, even though it doesn't show up in the first Ten. There is value in being grateful for what I have, rather than ungrateful for what I don't. There is value in remembering that there is value in waiting for something you want most of all. Some things are worth waiting for.
Christmas is worth waiting for.
