The Christmas Blues

I have never handled Christmas well.  The wife and the rest of the family would probably say that I am related to the Grinch of Dr. Seuss fame . . . but, I really don’t have a heart that is three sizes too small . . . I think that I have a heart that is fairly normal, but overwhelmed . . . so overwhelmed that it cannot handle the holiday season because it makes my heart ache.

It is probably just the introvert in me.  Christmas is an extroverted sort of a holiday.  It has been the “hot topic” for more than a month now . . . closer to six to eight weeks depending on whether or not you go with the retail world’s after Halloween onslaught or the more tradition creeping into Thanksgiving . . . calling for people to get up and party hardy . . . to mingle and mosey . . . to gather and celebrate . . . the more, the merrier.  Christmas is filled with gathering . . . the gathering of families, friends, congregations, communities, and just about any person that can be pulled off the street.   Christmas, as it has come to be, is a “get in your face” sort of holiday filled with people . . . lots of people.  An introvert’s worse nightmare.  Christmas seems to scream at you.  After a while it kind of overwhelms me.

Christmas is noisy.  Between all of the blaring holiday music and the advertisements screaming at us . . . it gets pretty loud.  Christmas is flashy.  There are all the light displays decorating houses and neighborhoods, blaring their music, and flashing colorful displays of holiday cheer.  It almost gets to be blinding.  Christmas is extravagant . . . almost a competition . . . seeing who can one-up the other.  It is almost more than one can handle . . . overwhelming.

Throw into the mix the whole secular versus religious battle of Christmas and it just gets more and more convoluted.  The arguments abound between whether “Jesus is the reason for the season” or if it is just another holiday with a jolly fat man in a red suit delivering gifts to those who can afford them.  Both sides shout  . . . no scream . . . at each other that their side is the correct way to celebrate the holiday, whether or not it is politically correct.  Neither side listens very well . . . and, well, it gets to be a little overwhelming having to decide between the purity of the Virgin Birth and stuffing the stocking full of gifts.  Shoot . . . both sides are a little ridiculous and thin-skinned.  Often this debate does not reflect well on those who call themselves the followers of Jesus . . . not very loving or understanding . . . especially when Jesus himself calls us to embrace our neighbors in their diversity and differences.  My heart grows weary of the constant arguing.

As a traditionalist, I have always been amazed at the ferocious embrace Christmas by those who call themselves Christians.  They act as if this is the defining point of the faith story . . . and, yet, give little credence to the fact that it is the final transition into the final movement of God’s love that is culminated in the cross and resurrection of Easter.  Easter is the defining moment of the Christian journey of faith . . . not Christmas.  Yet, the “church” continues to jump on the bandwagon of Christmas as that defining moment of faith . . . blind to the movement of God in the lives of humanity.  It overwhelms my heart that we miss the fact that Christmas is the opening of the door of the journey and story that never ends.  Christmas is not the end in itself . . . it is just the beginning.

Christmas is overwhelming for me . . . as a pastor and as an individual.  My heart is not three sizes too small.  No, my heart is quite normal.  In the movie American Beauty one of the characters is a young man who is quite unique and different in comparison to the other characters in the story.  One of his hobbies is filming things in his life using a small video recorder.  In one scene he shares a video with his next door neighbor—his girlfriend.  It is a film of a plastic trash bag being blown around in the wind . . . practically dancing in the wind’s current.

Ricky describes the scene:  “It was one of those days when it's a minute away from snowing and there's this electricity in the air, you can almost hear it. Right? And this bag was just dancing with me. Like a little kid begging me to play with it. For fifteen minutes. That's the day I realized that there was this entire life behind things, and this incredibly benevolent force that wanted me to know there was no reason to be afraid, ever. Video's a poor excuse, I know. But it helps me remember... I need to remember... Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can't take it, and my heart is just going to cave in.”

It is overwhelming.

Ricky says it best: “Sometimes there's so much beauty in the world, I feel like I can't take it, and my heart is just going to cave in.”

I am not the Grinch.  My heart is not three sizes too small.  I am overwhelmed . . . especially as an introvert . . . with the immensity of this holiday season we call Christmas.  The “gift” of Christmas . . . whether secular or religious . . . focuses on love . . . focuses on time.  Yet, so often, we miss the point of Christmas . . . we lose it in all of the glittery wrapping, the flashing lights, the blaring music, and the “ho, ho, ho” of the moment.  We are blind to what really matters . . . that time with those we love . . . the quiet lull when our hearts are filled beyond words or expression . . . that moment when a tear blinds us to what we are seeing through the eyes of others that we love.  It swells the heart . . . it is overwhelming.

Overwhelmed . . . I retreat.  I retreat to that quiet place . . . trying to handle the tsunami of emotions that flood my heart.  I retreat to find solid ground upon which to find my footing to enable me to stand within the world of the extrovert and be present with those around me.  It is not always easy . . . sometimes, out of fear, I am defensive . . . I seem cold or indifferent.  But, I am not . . . I am overwhelmed.

The fact is that I have never handle Christmas well.

So, I apologize for the fact that I am not the “ho, ho, ho” sort of person that one expects during the Christmas season.  I apologize because it is difficult to embrace the extroverted nature of the holiday season that overwhelms me with it extravagant beauty.  My heart cannot handle such a flood of awesomeness without time to process and understand it.  It is not that I do not love Christmas in its vast beauty . . . but, it is more than I can handle in one sitting.  Forgive me if I seem stand-offish or distant . . . forgive me if I seem indifferent, that is not my intention . . . I am overwhelmed.

I am overwhelmed . . . overwhelmed until I can pause in the quietness of my world to discern that moment when all those cosmic tumblers fall into place and I am in the presence of what Christmas truly means.  It happens every year. 

Sometimes it is in the quiet singing of the congregation gathered in candlelight singing Silent Night, Holy Night.  Sometimes it happens while sitting with the family around the kitchen table after the Christmas Eve service, eating food, laughing, and just basking in the gentleness of the moment.  Sometimes it happens as I watch my oldest granddaughter opening her presents and yelping with glee as she receives her umpteenth stuffed toy . . . just seeing the happiness and joy on her face.  Sometimes it happens well after everyone has gone to bed and I am lying in bed, having difficulty falling to sleep because I have been overwhelmed with family, friends, gifts, food, and laughter.  Sometimes it just comes in the quietness of a time when I am by myself.

And, when it happens . . . I cannot help but to shed a tear or two.  My heart is not too small, it is just not big enough to handle the immensity of the love I feel.  It happens every Christmas.  In all honesty, I do not think that it is just an “introvert” problem . . . in all honesty, if we would be that with ourselves, I think it is a problem we all have.  Christmas is overwhelming.  But, you know what, even as an introvert it is good to know that I am not alone. 

That is the message of Christmas . . . we are never alone.

Warm Weather Blues

With the typical Montana winter on awol we Montanans have experienced an unusually warm start to spring.  The temperatures lately have been ten to twenty degrees above normal for this time of year.  We have been having temperatures in the sixties and even seventies in the past week.  This is our normal May and June sort of weather.  We Montanans are not used to having summer this early in the year--usually it is mid-July to August before we kick on the air conditioners in our homes and vehicles.  Fortunately, or unfortunately, we have had the onslaught of warm weather lately . . . and, for the most part, I appreciate it.  Blame it on global warming . . . blame it one a crazy jet stream pattern this year . . . or blame it on the president (Seems he gets blamed for everything anyways!--whatever the cause it has been warmer than usual.

One of the things I appreciate about the climate of Montana is that it allows for a "layering" effect of clothing about nine months of the year--especially in the winter.  With layering the questions becomes: Is it fat or is it the layering?  No one knows!  That is what is nice about winter and the layering of clothing.  In the winter I like to wear sweaters, fleece, and sweat shirts to keep me warm and to hide the expanding equator of my waist.  With sweaters, fleece, and sweat shirts people have to guess--is it John or is it his clothing?  Trust me, I'm never going to tell.  I'm never going to tell because the truth is it is more me than the clothing.

The nice thing about layering clothing to keep warm is that it can be removed layer by layer whenever one is too warm.  The bad thing about layering clothing is that as the layers disappear the truth appears.  The warm weather has been pushing the issue lately.  The warm weather has been demanding a switch over to the lighter and thinner clothing of spring and summer.  This is not something I am looking forward to as it will expose me for what I have become--the Pillsbury Doughboy!  Yeah, I know, that is a scary picture!

This issue brings me to my annual lament--EXERCISE!  Just the thought of exercising makes my body hurt and cry out in pain.  The idea of adding another hour to my day to put myself through the rigors of exercise has me shutting down in the recliner in front of the television with a bag of chips and a ice cold micro-brew discerning whether or not it is worth the effort.  If fashion designers would make spring and summer clothing that could be layered and still provide the necessary cooling for the warmth--shoot, I'd invest millions in that clothing line and keep my figure under wraps all year round!  But, they do not.  Exercise and dieting come to mind as the only reasonable solution to the problem. 

Ouch!  Exercise does not sound reasonable.  It sounds costly, time consuming, and painful.  I think this is something I need to sit back and contemplate a little more . . . besides I still have a six-pack in the refrigerator.  Maybe it will snow yet!

Adding to the dilemma is the fact that the warmer weather makes people want to start wearing shorts.  It is blinding what we Montanans have to put up with as people begin to wear shorts after a long, cold winter of being covered up.  Instead of the threat of snow blindness we have skin blindness.  I know I will be among those who are guilty of this offense.  My legs are whiter than white after a long, cold winter.  It is a scary picture isn't it?  Hey, if this weather keeps up the shorts will be out soon and the world will wish that there were laws against such cruel and unusual sight. Yeah, there should be laws against that or at least mandatory sunglasses until mid-June or July when the tans actually begin to happen.

 And so it is that I have the "I Can't Believe It's Spring/Summer Blues".  I'm sitting in my recliner, sipping my beer and munching my chips humming those warm weather blues.  I know what I need to do . . . but the blues sound so good.  I guess I will just have to accept it and go with the flow--there is just more of me to love than there was before.  Oh winter, where art thou?  I miss you!