Rediscovering Christmas

I was Christmas shopping with my wife, and we were walking toward yet another store crammed with figurines, bows, candles and other festive yuletide objects that my wife finds charming. The store had a big banner in front, but it did not say, “Christmas Sale!” or “See Our Wide Selection.” No, this was an unusually honest banner. In big, bold, red letters it said, “Every Husband’s Nightmare.”

Yes, my wife took me to a store that did not even try to hide the fact that it would give me night sweats and an unsightly twitch in my left nostril. My wife loves these stores. I, on the other hand, have a severe allergic reaction to ceramic elves. By the time we hit the aisle with the wreaths and musical snow globes, I was in the advanced stages of Male Shopper Overload Syndrome. My eyes stared vacantly at the wall, a big streamer of drool slid down my chin, and I was starting to whimper. When I curled into the fetal position and begged the clerks for morphine, my wife agreed that perhaps it was time to go.

I do not do well with the commercial aspect of Christmas. I used to work in retail, and on the first day of November we had to shovel 96 cubic yards of Christmas debris onto the shelves as the same canned holiday carols played over and over again on the store music system. After a few weeks, I would find myself altering the words to the song that begins “Chestnuts roasting on an open fire,” into a little ditty that goes “Rudolph running as we open fire ...”

But aside from aggravating my aversion to stores and shopping, Christmas can be hard on me for emotional reasons. For the past few Christmases I have grieved the absence of someone very important to me. To be quite honest, the weeks leading up to December 25 have been a time of dread. You may not realize it, but you are surrounded by people who struggle through Christmas.

Last December, I stood at a gravesite and hugged a friend, a widow who was spending her first Christmas without her husband. She placed a pine bough wreath on his grave, touched the headstone, and said, “Merry Christmas, honey. I miss you so much. But I know you are happy in heaven. I love you.”

Christmas can be a bittersweet time. If we lose sight of the real meaning of it all, it can become one of the worst times of the year. It is hard enough when you are missing someone who can’t be with you, but it can be crushing when the person you miss could be with you but chooses not to.

Hard things happen in life. People die, marriages fall apart, jobs are lost, the person you were counting on lets you down. The memories of better times can heighten the pain of the here-and-now.

But Jesus came as a gift from heaven, and no one can take that away from me. Or you.

Whether this Christmas is for you a time of celebration or grief, Jesus still came. Angels brought incredible news of great joy. We have a Savior. The pain is not forever. Heaven awaits. Someday, all will be made well. God will wipe away every tear.