Our area of the world has been rocked by several tragedies in recent days and weeks. I’m not a news outlet, so I won’t go into detail about any of those. But, suffice it to say, with every glance at the local news or social media, there are stories that are hard to read and images that are hard to see. Heartbreak and devastation are words that can only begin to describe what many of our friends and neighbors are experiencing right now. I’m not convinced our brains or our bodies, let alone our hearts, were designed to process this much hard information. It seems we need, maybe more than ever, an Advent season that brings tidings of comfort and joy to a very weary world.
When I was growing up, our church’s annual “Hanging of the Green” service was one of my favorite nights of the year. During the service the church would be decorated and congregational carols were sung, so much about the night was festive and fun. But, the service almost always included an a capella processional of “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel.” The lyrics and haunting melody of that song seem to perfectly express the tension of the Christmas season. This time of year is exciting and joyful and anticipatory, but Christmas only exists because our dark and gloomy world was and is in such dire need of a Savior.
Oh come thou dayspring come and cheer
Our spirits by thine advent here
Disperse the gloomy clouds of night
And death’s dark shadows put to flight
Rejoice! Rejoice!
Emmanuel shall come to thee, oh Israel
I love the holiday season. But, each year when I start trudging up and down the attic steps to bring down decorations, I start thinking about why we–most all of us–do this to ourselves year after year. You know, Christmas is a lot of work. December is stressful. The calendar is crazy. Expectations, including our own, are unusually high. Yet, we do it. We put wreaths on the doors and windows. {In some rare cases we stand in the front yard and bark orders about how high a certain wreath should be hung}. We put trees up. We string lights. We buy gifts. We wear festive clothes and ugly sweaters. We sing carols. We bake special cookies. And, while it requires a ridiculous amount of time and effort to celebrate the Christmas season, it’s as if something within us simultaneously resents yet desperately needs this season with all its traditions and tensions. I think the rituals themselves can be strangely therapeutic for our souls. They remind us we’re part of a bigger story. We celebrate not because life is merry and easy… but because Christmas reminds us there is hope.
I want to be especially mindful this season of how important it is to be a source of comfort and joy and blessing and light whenever and wherever possible. I confess this is hardest to do in my own home with my own people. I can take a pack of water bottles to the local shelter or buy gifts for an Angel tree with a lot more ease than I can show “tidings of joy” to a defiant daughter. But, it’s got to start somewhere.
We’ve tried to start a few family traditions of our own over the past few years, and this year we thought it would be fun to kick off the season with a trip to see the lights and decorations at Opryland in Nashville over Thanksgiving. Something that will NOT become an annual tradition for us is returning there during the exact same dates as the statewide middle school BETA club convention. I have nothing against the BETA Club or against middle schoolers. I’d just prefer not to vacation with so many of them all at once. Thousands of junior high kids, many of whom were clearly experiencing their very first taste of travel freedom, were absolutely all over that hotel and the restaurants there. Our room was smack dab in the middle of one group who seemed to have a particularly exciting time the first night of their stay. If you were ever a middle schooler you know how hilarious it is to put back a few Dr. Peppers with every meal, see how many people you can cram into an elevator, take group selfies on the sidewalks and in the fire escapes, and prank your friends by banging on their door or calling their room well after your curfew. Fortunately, we got a copy of their convention schedule and planned to do a couple of things during their general assembly times.
By far, the girls’ favorite activity was the snow tubing they had set up under a tent just outside the hotel.
The Spouse and the girls went down the hill countless times. I went down one time and realized I would make a much better photographer than passenger on a tube that’s basically free-falling down a steep, bumpy hill of ice. I didn’t have a chance to snap a picture, but I’m pretty sure the scene looked something like this:
To each her own fun! Opryland is beautiful with all its lights and decor, but all the busyness there made me appreciate the tradition we started last year of a going to a local tree farm way out in the country a bit more this year. Much like last year Rosie went along and had to be in the lead at all times. She did well except for a valiant attempt to knock out the smell of the Frasier firs with a gift of her own and a momentary loss of her sanity when she spotted a pair of Labrador retrievers who were also visiting the tree farm. Naturally, she had to walk backwards on two legs until they were out of sight.
One other tradition we started a couple of years ago, though completely secular, is the Elf on the Shelf. Ours simply moves from spot to spot overnight, so it’s not overly complicated. I know, I know. The elf is a little creepy and this has absolutely nothing to do with the reason for the season. But, the girls get such a thrill out of finding him each morning and it adds a fun element of surprise to an otherwise intense month. This year the 2nd Grader, ever inquisitive, made a list of questions for our elf, Robin, to answer.
What I most love about this list is the reference to Santa’s “rainders.” You know that’s exactly what we call them down here in the South with an emphasis on the first syllable. I’m just sad I can’t say I personally “no” any of them.
What I do “no” is that the Preschooler may be a bit upset later today when she discovers that Rosie ate the birthday card she was working on for me.
I could never use the old “the dog ate my homework” excuse growing up, but I’m getting to use it for all kinds of things as an adult. She just better stay away from the nativity set because I will not tolerate her eating a lamb or chewing on an angel’s wing this year. At two years old {that’s old enough to go to the BETA club convention in dog years!}, I have higher expectations for her Christmas behavior.
Here’s hoping the rains keep coming and we can each find a way to bring a little bit of goodness or a little bit of light to someone or some situation today.
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