Monday, December 13, 2010

Christmas Spirit

Christmas is upon us in 12 days.  December is always a time of scrambling and being lost in busyness.  Trying, each year to make it perfect, better, memorable.  I get caught up in trying to buy gifts with money that I don't have.  Trying to do more with time that does not exist.  Trying to achieve perfection that is impossible and make memories that won't be remembered.  Every year I stress, because I fail.  I fail at perfection, imagine that.

Today I have been reflecting.  On my failure, on the season, on Christmas memories, on this world we live in.  I have been thinking about Christmas spirit.  It doesn't really matter what you believe in.  Whether you are a Christian or a Jew or an atheist.  You can use whatever labels and embrace whatever thoughts make you comfortable.  Whatever gets you through the night.  That may be a strange statement for a Christian to make at Christmas time, this time that we celebrate the birth of Christ.  For me though, it makes perfect sense.  The only thing I may get perfect this year.  I have been thinking about Christ.  Maybe he is your savior or maybe, for you, he is only a historical figure, or maybe even a fable or a myth.  We can all find peace in him, in the manger of that story.  In that tiny baby, born homeless but full of hope and possibilities.  This season is about hope, about promises.  In the midst of this winter season, where things are dead, or at least dormant, there is still promise.  The promise of rebirth, of spring that will come.  Jesus was that promise.  He was hope.  The Christmas spirit is found in our spirit.  Not in a store or the lights or the gifts. 

I see all around me hurting spirits.  Broken people trying to cope with this "most wonderful time of the year".  People trying to just make it to another year.  People trying to stay warm, trying to keep food on their table, trying to hold on until...

I think about my Christmas memories.  I remember very little about what presents I received.  I remember about time spent.  Not the time spent pursuing perfection, the time spent together.  I remember baking cookies.  I remember caroling.  I remember visiting the train display at CG&E (now Duke Energy), I remember the Christmas display at Krohn Conservatory and the live nativity there.  I remember family gatherings and people no longer with us.  I remember candlelight services and hymns softly sung.  What do all of those things have in common?  They have nothing to do with excess, or perfection, or money.  All wonderful, cherished, free memories.  This season was never supposed to be a burden, a sad and stressful time, it is supposed to be a celebration of hope, not of what is.  We need to cling to that hope.  That hope can be Jesus, or the oil in the lamp that did not burn out, or the hope that somewhere, deep within ourselves, we have the ability to go on, for one more day.  The hope that spring will return, the sun will shine, things will bloom again.  The hope that we will find grace and love will prevail.  The hope that maybe we can touch just one person and make a difference.  The hope that we can create just one memory that will outlive us.  The hope that maybe giving someone a smile, or a phonecall, taking a plate of cookies to a neighbor, putting a quarter in the kettle or a can of food in the barrel can make a difference.  It might plant a seed that will bloom in the spring.  Who knows, that seed we plant might take root in ourselves and grow that hope within us. 

The Christmas spirit is one of love.  Be nice.  Don't judge.  Reach out.  Do it because of Jesus, or do it because it is the right thing to do.  Do it because somewhere in all of us is a hurting, dirty, broken person who needs grace.  Invite the spirit to dwell in you.  Whatever spirit your mind is comfortable with.  That spirit of love and grace and caring.  That Christmas spirit.

1 comment:

Louise said...

Beautifully said, dearheart! I just dropped by before I leave town for a while and probably not be able to be online.

I wish you a very Merry Christmas... not the one as in some presumed perfection, but the one as you described.

Love, Louise