A Christmas ramble

Merry Christmas!

I'm scrambling to get this post written before everyone wakes up and we descend into the Christmas crazy. Bear in mind that we have big kids who are on break and in full sleep-in-after-staying-up-late mode. In my head, I already hear The Princess Bride's Prince Humperdinck musing, "...it ranged all over..." so I'll try to channel Mr. Woods, my 10th grade English teacher who used green felt tip markers to scrawl TWE on our papers- To What End? As in, "get to the point already!"

Everybody have their coffee or hot drink of choice? Some Christmas cookies? It is CHRISTMAS- don't worry about the calories, for goodness sake. Enjoy them!

(Mr. Woods sighs.)

Let's do this. 

Story time!

Once upon a time, there was a girl who worked at a summer camp. It's no longer there, sadly, but that's another story to be found here. She met a boy and life happened; they got married, moved a lot, got a kitten, had kids, got a dog, the whole shebang. (Mr. Woods rolls his eyes and reaches for the pen.)

This is the girl, who because of her erect posture and the faux feather in her hair, reminded her friends of the kidnapped princess in Peter Pan, and thus earned her the handle of Tigerlily at the aforementioned camp. 

One Christmas Eve, a long time later, the girl felt discouraged and not very festive. In fact, said girl cried a little while doing the dishes before her shower before the Christmas Eve service. (Mr. Woods uses his green pen.) She felt frustrated with her children who wanted to play video games instead of going to the Christmas Eve service and was astounded that they didn't see it as a given that they were going. She reminisced about a time when she and her mother had walked the handful of city blocks home from church on a below freezing Christmas Eve and how the stars had been so bright, and wonders if her mother remembers that, too. Generally feeling sorry for herself and ready at any moment to blame her tears on getting dishsoap in her eyes, she remembered something important which had been passed along to her and others at camp. 
"Satan tends to attack people and places of strategic importance."

These words had been spoken by a boss whose handle had been Spiritual Giant. His profession was teaching; he was and remains a true leader, caring about each person under him as well as those under them. 

(Mr. Woods pauses, then decides to allow it to see where it leads, but scribbles another TWE?)

Some of you may be musing, "who does she think she is?"

Slight pivot.

Last night, the girl also watched "It's a Wonderful Life," knowing full well that it's imperfect and dated and cheezy at times but wanted the nostaglia of an old movie she'd watched with her Nana. (Here's the link in case you want to investigate further: it'll open a new window.)

In the movie, Clarence muses, "Each man's life touches so many other lives..."

I've talked to more than one person this week who has felt depleted, that hard things kept happening to them, and that they were exhausted, and I keep coming back to that nugget of wisdom the girl heard decades ago. 

If you are a church worker, most especially in the season leading up to today, it makes complete sense to me that an enemy would try to keep you discouraged, make you feel like your work didn't matter, that it's only for an hour and everyone will go back to their "real" lives and forget what you taught or sang or how you loved, so why bother? 

Don't give up. Do it anyway.

For the parents whose kid would rather play with the box than the gift you finally found for them, for the health care workers who have yet another patient come in with something avoidable, for the way the world keeps turning and you have to keep dealing with all of it when you just feel like you can't do one more day/thing/event/minute because you've suffered a loss or a diagnosis or _____ and are barely hanging by a thread... 

Breathe. Call someone in your village. Don't get isolated. Don't get picked off one at a time. 

George Bailey experiences the... Clarence calls it a gift, I think, but I'm not sure that's quite the correct word. He experiences the  (whatever) of seeing what life would have been like without him in it. 

Eventually, we will all leave this life, and our loved ones will have to navigate around the land mine that our passing leaves in their own lives. That's not the same as you never having been here. That can be worse, at least to start, because of the (there are no words in Entish, Elvish or the tongues of men for the all encompassing emotions) that loss is. Grief doesn't play fair. It sucker punches. 

So, to answer the "who does she think she is?" 

(Mr. Woods scrawls TWE in huge letters.)

Just me. In fact, back in the day when I'd call my high school boyfriend's house, his Dad would answer and I'd say, "it's just me." He'd laugh and crow, "HIIIIIII Just!" 

I'm just me. You're just you. We can only each be just ourselves. 

But we're priceless, one of a kind, each a masterpiece.

If you feel like you're under attack, you probably are. Because no matter how you FEEL, you matter to someone. Make it a capital S if you want to- you also matter to Someone. That baby in the manger is for you. And me. And him and her and them and they and those. 

(Mr. Woods just yeet his green pen in annoyance and sloped off to get a warm up for his coffee cup. Maybe coffee doesn't get cold in the afterlife. I guess we'll all find out.)

And if you've figured out you are under attack, don't just stay there. Call for reinforcements! That can look all kinds of different. Sometimes just getting out of your house can make a difference, even if it's frigid, yes, even with a baby. Hearing the voice of a friend instead of the usual texts. Using the "good" dishes. Wearing the fancy clothes. We are quick to splurge on others in this season, but you are hereby allowed to splurge on yourself, whoever was waiting around for permission. It can be little things, but YOU are special, you are worth it, you need to take care of yourself so you can continue loving on/serving/standing in the gap for those around you. We need you. 

We are heading into the "long dark of Moria" winter, but be of good cheer- the days are already getting longer and the light will be returning. Breathe deep, my friends; you are loved, a New Year is coming, and Christmas is here! 

Despite life's hiccups, and because of them, they all lived happily ever after.

The End.