Busy Christmas...

My fingers are tired as I type this. My body is tired. My soul is tired. Tis the season to be tired or at least it has turned into that. What ever happened to the Christmas season being fun?

For the past few weeks I have found that I have removed myself from social settings, opting to be a wallflower, pretending to be busy. I have found my self watching people, people who are having fun and laughing and wondering what it would take for me to laugh and have fun, especially at this time of year. I wonder if their Christmas time is as special as my imagination is making it out to be. Is it Rockwellian?

It turns out that life is never like a postcard, with a perfectly browned turkey. We don’t have rosy cheeks and leave footprints in the virgin snow in search of the perfect tree. My nose is empty from the lack of chestnuts roasting in shallow pans on street corners. My door remains shut to carols.

Life is dirty snow in gutters. It is gritty and full of drama and sweaters that itch; Of dry cold hams and warms winter days; Of grid lock and traffic and of shopping for that special tchotsky that no one needs or even wants. Christmas has become a chore and a to-do-list.

It is hard for me to remember Christ in the midst of Christmas and to remind myself that all the superficial stuff I try and surround myself with will always be hollow and empty with out the proper focus. I wonder if Joseph Mohr was trying to put his life in perspective when he longingly wrote:

“Silent Night, Holy Night
All is calm, All is Bright…”