Christmas Is Not About Me

Christmas is next week, and I am feeling a bit "bah-humbug" about it all.  A lot bit "bah-humbug" if I'm completely honest.

I am not a fan of Christmas.  Once upon a time I'm sure I was.  I have endless magical memories of Christmas grandeur from my childhood.

And then I grew up, and life turned out being so much harder than I had ever imagined, and every looming year marks another milestone of a wish, hope, dream not yet met... and somehow I've turned into one of those tired people who actually full on dread the holidays.

I'm the one who bakes everything, buys everything, brings everything, juggles everything, wraps everything, orders, stuffs, addresses, seals, mails all the cards, sends and replies to the millions of texts and emails trying to obtain and give the perfect and complete wish lists along with the organization of all the said food and party details of that stated earlier... so that everyone in my family can just put on their coats, get in the car, and "arrive and enjoy" their big day ~ which ends up lasting for an entire week or longer as we bounce from one celebration to the next, and then all needs to be unpacked and put away when we get home.  Throw in blended families on multiple sides, an adopted child, the empty space of a child lost too soon, all topped with a thick layer of the mom-guilt of someone who deep inside honestly knows she's just feeling sorry for herself and really just wants someone in her house to remember to go shopping for something meaningful, thoughtful, and special for her...

And well... yeah, the holidays are just hard.

I honestly have the best of intentions every year to intentionally stay slow... to do less, care less, spend less... and then somehow Halloween passes, the calendar flips to November and the crazy just seems obliviously inevitable.

I've been walking around at war with myself for days about all this, and it finally spilled out all over in the form or tears this morning at work.

I'm tired and not sleeping well, I'm stressed, I'm attempting (and failing miserably) at dieting ~ even through I am diligently doing what I'm supposed to in the eating and exercising avenue... apparently stress, age, and hormones still have the upper hand within my stubborn body.  I'm finding it harder and harder to get up every morning and face the day, poised to make the right health decisions when there is no fruit from my labor.  My stamina and hope is fading quickly....

And now the calendar says that Christmas is next week.  Next week.  My pulse quickens and my emotions rise.  I try and take a deep breath and tell myself to just "not care..."  Take a step back and remove myself emotionally from the reality at hand.  Put up the wall. Remain numb. Sustain survival mode.

But I am one of those Type A, obsessively organized, planner people, and remaining emotionally unattached does not come easy for me.  Hence, I'm walking around all "bah-humbug-y" and have piled on a good 'ol heap of stressed out self-pity.

But Christmas is not about me.  Deep inside, I know this.  It's what eating away at my soul right now.  Christmas is NOT about ME.

Christmas is about grandparents going to the church Christmas Programs.  It's about parents having their children and grandchildren all home under one roof, celebrating together, despite the chaos.  It's about inviting friends and neighbors to worship on Christmas Eve, opening the doors of the church and welcoming one and all.  It's about creating the childhood magic and grandeur for my own children within our home.  It's about seeing the unseen, hearing the unheard, loving the unloved.  It's about breathing deep, honoring tradition, gracefully packing away our life's disappointments for a small season, loving family unconditionally (despite the quirks), and putting others first.

And at the very intimate core of all of this, it's ultimately about the tiny baby born in Bethlehem, who would die on a cross thirty-three years later, in order that I would be able to live and be saved over two-thousand years later.  That is the true magic and wonder of Christmas, the true gift and ultimate giving.  That is the perfect picture of sacrifice, of setting aside self and giving completely.

It's about the giving. It's not about the getting.

My heart is heavy as I think about how this simple fact, this indescribable act, has gotten so commercialized and self personalized, both in my life and in society at large.  It is my prayer that the unattainable expectations and unrealistic hopes of this Christmas do not overshadow the greater sunshine and shining eastern star announcing the arrival of the One who will one day set us free from all our discontent.

May the true message and reality that Christmas is NOT about ME softly settle deep within my self-pity filled soul, and may all our hearts be filled with the magical childlike awe and wonder over the Child of God this Christmas.

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