Christmas 2011
“So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young”
-John Lennon
Well, it is Christmas now, isn't it. This week has been a quiet week, one of relaxing and remembering. Christmas is an interesting time of year. I think partly just because it's a natural signpost; an opportunity to reflect.
Coming to the close of this year, it's not as I imagined it. Not as I envisioned it, or even as I expected it. I'm OK with it, though, mostly. Knowing what I know now, I see this as the best possible outcome to my life so far. I wish the lessons could have been learned quicker or with less mess, but God's ways are His own, and I trust that any other way would not have been as good. For some value of “good”.
Five years ago tomorrow, I was cruising the mall with one of my best friends, marveling at the wonderful young lady I had just started dating. Yes, Christmas Eve Day. Neither my friend or I were known for good advance planning, but it all worked out somehow. I spent all 3 or 4 weeks of school's Christmas break at home that year, marked by hours on the phone with someone I had just started getting to know.
The year after that, I don't remember. I'm guessing because I was still putting my life back together after assigning way too much of my life's value to the above young lady.
Last year, (my sister's continued residence in Jerusalem notwithstanding) my mother thought it might be the last “regular” Christmas we'd have. With only 7 of us at home, Christmas morning was surprisingly calmer. I think my family and I all saw me headed from a serious relationship into a possible marriage in the next year, which would have drastically changed the Larson family's Christmas routine. “Worry” for nothing, as it turns out.
This year's Christmas has strange poignant undertones. The economy's down, and people worry about Christmas gifts. I put off my own shopping this year until the next-to-last moment, partly due to procrastination and partly because it felt like a routine. Of course I'll get in the car, turn up the radio (non-Christmas because the radio usually doesn't agree with my tastes), take a “hit list” and carefully-planned itinerary, and do my shopping the engineer way. I set a rough budget, but does gift magnitude really matter? I try to pick out things that are meaningful and will be enjoyed by their recipients. Although “it's the thought that counts”, it's the resultant shelf space that has to be allocated, arranged, and dusted. (I promise I was looking for an “A” synonym to dusting) How much is gift-giving a byproduct of this culture's materialism, entitlement, and expectations?
I was listening to a recently-divorced church friend talk tonight about how his holiday season will be empty – no kids, no spouse. “Yay, remember Jesus loves you and cares about you!”, right? But is Jesus there when your house will be dark and quiet on Christmas morning? In a way that makes your life complete and fulfilled? Maybe his house will be more like some dark remote Israeli cave many years ago. Maybe someone will wander by, say hey, and wonder what's going on. He'll probably meet smelly shepherds or something.
Another of my friends is grateful for his quiet Christmas, the first in several years without externally-imposed drama. He's also alone, in fact. He's got plans for guitar playing and couch-sitting. I imagine there'll also be Jesus-talking and food-eating too. In a time of “being with family” and “big get-togethers”, is he wrong to enjoy “quiet thinking time”? I don't think so. Whose expectations count? Seems like the days of “over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go” as a privilege are bygone.
And my own Christmas? I'll be home for a while. “Other-home”, actually, as my apartment is now in truth my home. I'll bring gifts, open gifts, eat food, and write thank yous. I'll be authentically grateful (because I don't deserve gifts – that's why they're gifts) and enjoy giving to others. However, the excitement of waking up on Sunday will be a little feigned, as might be some other experiences. Not because of the lack of caffeine, although it helps. Not because Jesus and Christmas isn't worth celebrating, because that's not true either. I guess just because as I get older, I get more cynical about the state of the world and how different it is from what it could or should be. December 25th comes after the 24th and before the 26th and is pretty much just another spin of this odd blue marble in the vastness of space.
I'm looking forward to church tomorrow. I'll see my friends (maybe, it's a big church), worship, and hear Jim or Scott bring the Word. There'll be candles and jokes about burning people. There'll be quality worship because our band rocks. Next, I'll go hang out with more of my friends and compatriots as we attempt to impart some God into the lives of kids. Sliders and levels, slides and mouse clicks; these have been my Christmas Eve companions for three of the last four years. It's like a method to make others' Christmas special so they quit trying to make sure mine is. Sound/tech is almost as breathing to me and provides observable results for little effort.
On my way home from church tonight, I found myself taking a detour to see some Christmas lights the neighbor had pointed out. As I drove, I thought “Gee, the longer I drive, the longer it will be until Christmas.” Time dilation actually works the other way if I remember my relativity right, but doing something kept me busy for a bit longer. I don't know why the impetus to “put off” and half-heartedly trying to figure it out.
My Christmas seems to have the same echoes of "alone" and "empty". While my life is different than my friends', I've felt the sentiments I've heard others express. "Alone in a crowd", "not excited for [family]", and so on. Yet I have no special reason for such, just my ordinary life.
And so it is Christmas. Time to set darkness aside for light. At least for a time and to the extent practical.
Being out of words, I once again will borrow from that great prophet of pop culture, John Lennon.
“A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear”
Yeah, let's hope.
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young”
-John Lennon
Well, it is Christmas now, isn't it. This week has been a quiet week, one of relaxing and remembering. Christmas is an interesting time of year. I think partly just because it's a natural signpost; an opportunity to reflect.
Coming to the close of this year, it's not as I imagined it. Not as I envisioned it, or even as I expected it. I'm OK with it, though, mostly. Knowing what I know now, I see this as the best possible outcome to my life so far. I wish the lessons could have been learned quicker or with less mess, but God's ways are His own, and I trust that any other way would not have been as good. For some value of “good”.
Five years ago tomorrow, I was cruising the mall with one of my best friends, marveling at the wonderful young lady I had just started dating. Yes, Christmas Eve Day. Neither my friend or I were known for good advance planning, but it all worked out somehow. I spent all 3 or 4 weeks of school's Christmas break at home that year, marked by hours on the phone with someone I had just started getting to know.
The year after that, I don't remember. I'm guessing because I was still putting my life back together after assigning way too much of my life's value to the above young lady.
Last year, (my sister's continued residence in Jerusalem notwithstanding) my mother thought it might be the last “regular” Christmas we'd have. With only 7 of us at home, Christmas morning was surprisingly calmer. I think my family and I all saw me headed from a serious relationship into a possible marriage in the next year, which would have drastically changed the Larson family's Christmas routine. “Worry” for nothing, as it turns out.
This year's Christmas has strange poignant undertones. The economy's down, and people worry about Christmas gifts. I put off my own shopping this year until the next-to-last moment, partly due to procrastination and partly because it felt like a routine. Of course I'll get in the car, turn up the radio (non-Christmas because the radio usually doesn't agree with my tastes), take a “hit list” and carefully-planned itinerary, and do my shopping the engineer way. I set a rough budget, but does gift magnitude really matter? I try to pick out things that are meaningful and will be enjoyed by their recipients. Although “it's the thought that counts”, it's the resultant shelf space that has to be allocated, arranged, and dusted. (I promise I was looking for an “A” synonym to dusting) How much is gift-giving a byproduct of this culture's materialism, entitlement, and expectations?
I was listening to a recently-divorced church friend talk tonight about how his holiday season will be empty – no kids, no spouse. “Yay, remember Jesus loves you and cares about you!”, right? But is Jesus there when your house will be dark and quiet on Christmas morning? In a way that makes your life complete and fulfilled? Maybe his house will be more like some dark remote Israeli cave many years ago. Maybe someone will wander by, say hey, and wonder what's going on. He'll probably meet smelly shepherds or something.
Another of my friends is grateful for his quiet Christmas, the first in several years without externally-imposed drama. He's also alone, in fact. He's got plans for guitar playing and couch-sitting. I imagine there'll also be Jesus-talking and food-eating too. In a time of “being with family” and “big get-togethers”, is he wrong to enjoy “quiet thinking time”? I don't think so. Whose expectations count? Seems like the days of “over the river and through the woods, to Grandmother's house we go” as a privilege are bygone.
And my own Christmas? I'll be home for a while. “Other-home”, actually, as my apartment is now in truth my home. I'll bring gifts, open gifts, eat food, and write thank yous. I'll be authentically grateful (because I don't deserve gifts – that's why they're gifts) and enjoy giving to others. However, the excitement of waking up on Sunday will be a little feigned, as might be some other experiences. Not because of the lack of caffeine, although it helps. Not because Jesus and Christmas isn't worth celebrating, because that's not true either. I guess just because as I get older, I get more cynical about the state of the world and how different it is from what it could or should be. December 25th comes after the 24th and before the 26th and is pretty much just another spin of this odd blue marble in the vastness of space.
I'm looking forward to church tomorrow. I'll see my friends (maybe, it's a big church), worship, and hear Jim or Scott bring the Word. There'll be candles and jokes about burning people. There'll be quality worship because our band rocks. Next, I'll go hang out with more of my friends and compatriots as we attempt to impart some God into the lives of kids. Sliders and levels, slides and mouse clicks; these have been my Christmas Eve companions for three of the last four years. It's like a method to make others' Christmas special so they quit trying to make sure mine is. Sound/tech is almost as breathing to me and provides observable results for little effort.
On my way home from church tonight, I found myself taking a detour to see some Christmas lights the neighbor had pointed out. As I drove, I thought “Gee, the longer I drive, the longer it will be until Christmas.” Time dilation actually works the other way if I remember my relativity right, but doing something kept me busy for a bit longer. I don't know why the impetus to “put off” and half-heartedly trying to figure it out.
My Christmas seems to have the same echoes of "alone" and "empty". While my life is different than my friends', I've felt the sentiments I've heard others express. "Alone in a crowd", "not excited for [family]", and so on. Yet I have no special reason for such, just my ordinary life.
And so it is Christmas. Time to set darkness aside for light. At least for a time and to the extent practical.
Being out of words, I once again will borrow from that great prophet of pop culture, John Lennon.
“A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear”
Yeah, let's hope.
posted by The student of life at 11:57 PM
2 Comments:
I find myself with the same sort of cynicism about Christmas this year. Last year's was tough on my family, particularly my mom. I am ridiculously behind on gifts I feel obligated to give, anxious and cynical about hanging out with family, and disappointed that I have neither the time nor the money to bake all kinds of goodies.
I wish I could take Christmas off and play Christmas songs on my accordion all day.
"Tough on my mom" due to family issues, which meant it was tough on me as well. Sorry that was not clear.
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