Seven years ago Hurricane Sandy slammed the northeastern United States, Cuba, Jamaica, Dominican Republic and Puerto Rico, and was called the deadliest and most destructive hurricane of 2012. As the massive cleanup and attempt to rebuild homes and community carried through into the month of December, 45% of those surveyed living in the northeastern States said they wished they could cancel Christmas. There was too much to fix, too much recovery that needed to happen and there wasn't time or energy for Christmas.
I remember the year I wanted to cancel Christmas. I was 18 years old and had just finished my first semester at university. My anticipation in heading home and being part of the family celebration took a shocking turn when my father had a heart attack and was suddenly gone.
Pain and grief feel the same no matter what day of the year it is. If my father had died on March 11 or July 29 it would have resulted in the same painful ache, but losing him just days before Christmas seemed to magnify the reality that as families all around our community were gathering for holiday celebrations--our family was forever changed.
The event I most look forward to at Christmas was, and still is, the Christmas Eve service, but that Christmas I didn't want to go. You see, my dad was the pastor and I couldn't imagine walking into the church and not seeing him at the front leading the service. But at the very last moment my sister and I decided we would go, so our grandpa lovingly accompanied us while my grandma remained at home with our mom. Knowing the church would be packed, our thought was we could squeeze in unnoticed at the back, or perhaps even head up to the balcony unseen. But that was not to be. An usher met us at the door and said he'd saved seats for us in case we decided to come. He then put his arm around my shoulders, walked us down the aisle, and seated us in the front row. The front row! So much for unseen or unnoticed. But as I sat through that service, admittedly much of it in tears, I was part of the congregation of people who were there to worship; to worship the baby born to be the Savior. So much of that Christmas was bitterly painful, but as much as I might have wished Christmas wouldn't have come, it is the very reason we need Christmas. But the right Christmas. The true Christmas.
We attach so much to our celebration that is not needed and frankly, rather perplexing. Stressmas has replaced anticipation for far too many. If all the right trappings aren't presented to all the right people it can make us feel it just doesn't measure up. Our quest for abundance has taken away the unique wonder and expectancy of Christmas.
In the Dr. Seuss seasonal classic, the Grinch discovers that despite all his efforts to stop it, he can't keep Christmas from coming but instead muses, "Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. Maybe Christmas, perhaps, means a little bit more."
Actually, a whole lot more.
More than 2000 years ago Mary and Joseph were away from home; preparing for the birth of a baby; separated from family; taking shelter in the only place available to them. Yet in the intervening years we have aggrandized our notions of celebration to such an extent we think there needs to be containers full of baking in the freezer, an abundance of gifts under the tree, ornate decorations decking the halls, and luxurious linens on the guest beds. Such a far cry from the humbleness…and purpose…of that first Christmas, and no wonder some people feel defeated by the time and energy this all takes.
Death, natural disaster, tragedy, disease and any other event we experience is painful on whatever day of the year it may come. So thank goodness for Christmas. Christmas is hope. Christmas is healing…and humility. Christmas is the birth of the Savior and I am so thankful there is no chance of cancelling that.
Joy to the world! The Lord is come. That's my outlook.
