Begin doing what you want to do now. We are not living in eternity. We have only this moment, sparkling like a star in our hand – and melting like a snowflake. Marie Beynon Ray
I'm sitting here in the dark. It's early morning, and I'm watching the rain from my bedroom window. I don't know why, but this fills me with gratitude for the crackling fire keeping me warm, for the privilege of writing, for those of you who continue to read…and for something else that I've been wrestling with during the holidays.
It's that time of year when I inadvertently prioritize things over what matters most, my people, my peace, and my sanity.
With a wrinkled list squeezed tightly in my stressed hand, I race through the mall or browse Amazon online, endlessly trying to check every person off my list with something shiny and bright, and I don't even care whether you've been naughty or nice.
I'm ignoring the damn budget, buying extra white elephant gifts because you never know, fretting over presents for the in-laws, kids, spouses, grandkids, extended family, friends, and neighbors. And let's not forget about the garbage collector, UPS driver, and our beloved postal worker.
Then, while I'm diligently wrapping all this shit with designer paper, curling ribbon, bows, and adhesive tags, I overthink, agonize, and freak out about the upcoming dinner parties, social events, and endless traditions.
I can't do it all, no one can, but it's as if I'm willing to die trying! Hurry, hurry, get that tree set up the day after Thanksgiving, slap up dozens of color coordinated ornaments, and twinkle lights with nostalgic Christmas music playing in the background. Line the mantle with a lighted garland, monogrammed stockings, and an enchanting nativity set.
Set up the Dickens Village with fake snow, roads, people, ponds, and precise lighting to illuminate every damn house. Not to mention finding the perfect family pic for the Christmas card and then spending an entire day addressing, stamping, and sending them across the country. Oh, and let's not forget that crazy time suck, Elf on the Shelf.
As Charlie Brown says, "I don't feel the way I'm supposed to feel."
Running through my mind is a constant barrage of questions. Do I have enough? Should I add just one more thing? Who am I forgetting?
What I'm forgetting is everything I know to be true, and besides giving myself indigestion, I'm obliterating the incredible message that came into the world several thousand years ago to shed a little light in the world.
From the scriptures, we know that Christ wasn't born in December. While the church battled the pagan celebrations during the winter solstice for centuries, she finally caved, and Christmas became a communal response to an ancient impulse (Katherine May), one that was not predicated on a particular belief system or faith. We are honoring the urge to recognize the light that comes into the world during the darkest time of the year.
And what exactly is that light?
It's warm, inviting, luminous, and it shines on everyone regardless of education, wealth, where you live, or what you believe.
The message is so simple. Love each other, not just during the winter solstice, but all the time. And here's a hint, love does not obliterate your wellbeing or your wallet. It is not controlling, unkind, or belittling. It endures all things, keeps no records of wrongs, and with exceptional grace, love protects, trusts, and perseveres through all things.
Maybe I'm trying to find shelter in a tornado of jolly Santas and robotic reindeer, but the excess is incredible, and that manger that opened wide its doors, ushering in a spirit of unconditional love, has become a fixture on my mantle instead of in my heart.
All this uncontrolled anxiety and cultural expectations can bring out the worst in people, okay me. I don't know if it's the stressed out husband, the social obligations, or all the details that must be managed, but it's not good for Cheryl.
I become a complicated waltz of tears and smiles, visited by ghosts of Christmas past, unfiltered emotions, and chaotic insecurities, with a shot of social anxiety. It's as if I'm on a mission to replicate an immortalized past or create an impossible present, but I'm missing the most essential piece.
How do we celebrate the restoration of a broken world even though that restoraion is not fully realized?
It doesn't matter how many times I roll, stumble, or fall. God has seen everything I am and everything I am not, and without justification I have been forgiven, absolved, acquited, but here's the kicker, I must extend that same compassion to others.
We all deserve love, respect, and deep connection because that is the nature of all creation.
Believe me, I participate and am fully invested in promoting and advancing this crazy Christmas culture that has violated the message we're trying to celebrate and purposely confused love with things and the unwarranted judgment of others.
I want to believe there is so much more to the season than prime deals, maxed-out credit cards, and cocktail parties but how do we throw out the bathwater and save the baby?
Seth Godin reminds us that where we choose to direct our gaze determines not only what we learn or believe, but how we choose to see the world.
If we're not happy with how external forces are stealing and redirecting our attention, we can change it.
Maybe practicing peace has something to do with slowing down, so we can hear our whispered prayers, bask in the gentle candlelight and blissful quiet. Could the brightness of the stars on a dark December night be leading us towards the presense of generosity, kindness and compassion in places we would never expect? And what if we let wonder, joy, and goodwill redirect our focus?
My friend Jill says you have to give yourself permission to slow down each and every day. It's not a reward. It is your inherent right.
I notice when I take a walk in the neighborhood, go for a bike ride, or climb St. Joe's Hill, my mind begins to slow down and take in the genuine serenity of the terrain. John O'Donohue says, "What is happening is that the clay of your body is retrieving its own sense of sisterhood with the great clay of the landscape."
Who does not love the way John puts things?
The optimist in me says December is the birthright of light and love coming into the world just when we need it most, and I want to believe it is possible to keep that kind of love alive throughout the year by extending compassion, hope and goodwill to others.
Maybe when all is said and done, it is how deeply and profoundly we touch the people we love because when given freely, love becomes the present, divinely illuminating the future and shattering the darkness once and for all.
I'm Living in the Gap, tossing the lists, how are you doing?
I apologize for my lack of reading, connecting and commenting on your posts, it's that time of year, and I'm out there bobbing in the Christmas surf, looking for the perfect wave. I know, I know, all I have to do is ride the next one in. Missing you all!
If you need a last-minute gift, Grow Damn It comes in two days! And If you want to knock my socks off, write a short review, a few sentences is all you need!
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