Christmas–Why It’s A Celebration

It’s tough being the torchbearer for Christmas.  Among my crew, it’s an especially daunting task.  I have the jaded, the unbelievers, and the true professionals–one of my friends is part of a professional Santa troupe.  So, for me to claim the title of Christmas torchbearer is a little…big.  And yet, there have  been holidays where my friends have claimed they’d rather spend Christmas Day wrapped up with DVDs and comfort food rather than celebrate the holiday.

I get it.  There’s the stress of family, gift buying, the songs, the charities, all the ugly sweaters…the list goes on.  I understand when people look at Christmas as a giant commercial fiasco that forces obligation on you and picks your wallet.  Yes, an experience like that would leave you a withered husk by Christmas Day.  If that’s what the holiday was for me, I’d be fetal.

For me, though, Christmas is more.  But this year, the drive has been the focus.  You see, I’ve been lapse in my torch bearing duties.  Not on purpose, mind you.  I’ve been logging a pretty fantastic amount of overtime recently, which is great financially, but sucks for the Christmas festivities.  If you take it upon yourself to infuse your friends and family with the Christmas Spirit, but you’re not around, what do you do?

You PowerFest.

Yes, my answer this year (in my mind) was to PowerFest.  Maximize every gathering and take any opportunity to make a random event into a full fledged Christmas Party.  Because, after all, I can show people what the Christmas Spirit is all about by example, right?

If you’re going to PowerFest, preparation is key.  Set the scene, create the right mood, and make sure the evening says what you want to say.  So, in October I started planning.  In November I went into overdrive.  In December I scrambled.  But the entire time, I asked myself one simple question:

What does Christmas mean to me?

If I’m going to relay what Christmas means to me, I have to know it.  I’ve always felt it, and I’ve always lived it, but I’ve never been able to put my finger on it.  This year was the time–in fact, it was critical.  There’s no spare time to guess!

My friends act as good mirrors.  The Atheist, with an over-preached Southern Baptist background, has been blasted with the pop culture of Christmas as well as the religious background of it.   Naturally, she’s picked this apart.  After chewing on her perspective, I realized that, while religion is at the core of my beliefs, it’s not the origin of my love of Christmas.  Or maybe it is–more later.  It’s definitely not the pop culture.  We all get hit with it, and over time we realize the mechanics behind the magic.  That’s where Santa Jr. comes in.  Coming from a family where Christmas is a business, I can definitely see why he’d be a little…tired of it after a while.  But you can’t work the holiday without having some love for it.  He loves the glitz, but loves the meaning behind it.  So, while we both dismiss the glitz to focus on the meaning, I think he’s there with me–what does it mean?

My friend the Monk offers a side angle that makes focus a little easier.  As a religious devotee as well as a fellow po kid, she remembers what Christmas was like without overt religion and without money.  She loved Christmas, but lost some zest for it as she got older.  Recognizing the crap that goes to make the holiday solid for kids goes a long way to jading you.  She’s perked up since hanging with us, but still–what’s the key?

There are movies, songs, and plenty of media that address this issue.  Plenty of people want to know what Christmas is all about.  They come to different conclusions, usually depending on what they’re looking for in the first place.  For example, many will talk about Jesus.  Let’s not go there.  I do respect this perspective, but this is a wormhole into another debate that you can have elsewhere.   Then there’s the joy, peace, love angle.  John Lennon singing “War is Over if you want it”, “Joy To The World”, or whatever—there’s plenty of sources.  This is a little closer to home.

I’ve pondered this as I’ve watched opportunities to celebrate fall to overtime.  I’ve drilled deep into my past, into philosophy, and into every feeling to try to understand what makes this the best time of year to me.  And while I drone away in my job to pay for plane tickets and car repairs, I ask myself–what am I hunting for?

In my deep dive analysis I looked to my shining example of Christmas.  It comes from my single digit youth, when my divorced parents would pass me off over the course of a day by taking me from home, to one grandparent’s house, to the other grandparents’ house, and finally home with the other parent.  Over the course of a day I got to see a litany of family, all still bratty and snipey and bragging, but also having a pretty good time.  It’s like Christmas redefined the rules of engagement with each other juuuust enough that you enjoyed the day.

In this snapshot I get what I’m hunting for, what I have, and what I’m trying to share.

The Christmas Spirit, as I’ve learned it, isn’t the garland or trees, or the gifts or the food.  It’s not about the service in the soup kitchens. It’s not about the birth of Jesus.  Christmas is about generosity.  Not that “generosity” that you use when you give something to the Salvation Army, or when you bust your tail to cook dinner for the family, or when you give a gift to someone as part of the general festivities.  It’s singing Christmas carols when you hate them and don’t believe in them, because someone you care about does.  It’s going to some place you hate and smiling though it all, because you’re with the people you care about.  It’s forgiving sleights, going the extra mile, and putting a little love out there for someone that, by all rights, doesn’t deserve it.

I think about each of my divorced parents suffering through the same trial.  3am, Christmas Day.  They’re up, either alone or with a significant other, trying to put some tiny sticker on some plastic toy that costs way too much to be broken, and they’re pulling their hair out.  They’re exhausted, frustrated, and cursing the company that made this thing, and cursing the commercial that made me want it.  Hours of overtime to pay for all of this, guilt over not being there more, stress of driving through traffic to get that picture of kid with Santa, and won’t it be great when all of this is over?

But it won’t.  You don’t want it to be over.  You’ll  be up, watching to see that first look of amazement as your kid lights up over that toy he never thought he’d get.  You’ll go through an entire morning without passing out, without coffee, without anything but this kid’s joy fueling the room.  And that’s enough.  You’ll go see the family and deal with all the complaining and one-upsmanship and never ending one sided talking because you know, somewhere deep underneath all the bullshit and bravado, that they’re thrilled to have you there.  And, on some level, in spite of yourself, you’re happy to be there, too.  So you forgive the subtle insult, you casually neglect to bring up the forgotten birthday, and you watch your kids play, and while it’s all grating on you, everything’s actually all right.

 

 

I’ve purposefully been ambiguous with my wishes this year.  When asked, I give answers to people that will satisfy–no gift, an ornament, or for my mother, who still sits up to watch me open my gifts, something easy to get.  The joy this year has been in giving to others–in being generous.  I’ve tried to be generous with what little time I have, I’ve been generous with money, and I’ve tried to be generous with my affections.  There’s always room for more.  But this is where I call in my Christmas Wish, for everyone and anyone who would read this post.  Here it is:

LIVE CHRISTMAS.

Take this holiday, this time of year, and make it yours.  Forgive someone you’ve had beef with for years.  Sing the praises of your unsung heroes.  Go the extra mile for those who already know you love them.  Tell someone that doesn’t know that you care.  Give of yourself.  Demonstrate generosity of spirit.  And don’t expect anything back—give because you want to give.

The best gift I could get this year, and every year, is to see this wish in action.  Show me and I won’t light up like I did when I was a kid with a GI Joe toy.  What I’ll do is smile a small and very warm smile, and maybe even water up a little like I am right now at the thought of it, and most of all, I’ll sleep the sleep of peacefulness.  And peace is what I really want this year.

 

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