I have a horrible time letting go of Christmas each year. Funny thing-- as I write this-- THE DAY is still two more earth revolutions away. And yet, already I have begun to feel the effects of post-Christmas melancholy. Don't worry, I'll get over it.
Below is something I wrote a couple years back in the throes of one such dark mood. Oddly enough, when I read it now each Christmas, it always cheers me up. May it be the same for you (in case you're an Eeyore like me). Christmas lives because Jesus lives!
Surrounded By Grace,
CHRISTMAS LIVES (December, 2006)
I'm standing at a crossroads
Where the world commits its treason
Tossing out an old year's dregs
To brew a different season
It's countdown to another start
It's hunger always famished
But where does Christmas live
I wonder, once it has been banished?
Does Christmas live in TV screens
and split the rent with classics?
Or do the toy stores harbor it
to make their sales dramatic?
Does Christmas live in Christmas trees?
If so they die together...
Or maybe it's within the snow?
They say God's in the weather.
Does Christmas live in comfort foods,
In feasts and pot-luck dinners?
Do we crusade for fullness
as do saints, or empty sinners?
Does Christmas live in hymnbooks
Dozing soft in dusty pews?
Do carols get a second look?
I doubt they're good reviews
Maybe Christmas lives in family?
They fill rooms and shopping carts ~
Does it percolate to children
Who grow up to play our parts?
I ask ~
Does Christmas live
If breathing takes place once a year?
When mothballs guard the cardboard vaults
Which store our Christmas cheer?
Does Christmas live outside the womb
That is the Christmas Season?
And if not is it viable
To preach hope without reason?
Christmas deals in Life, not death
Hope has a destination
'Fore time's beginning Word had breath
And then it had a nation...
That nation clutched 'seed' to its chest
Preserving words of solace
And in these strands of stubborn faith
God incubated promise.
The Great Magician tipped His hat
The Dealer showed His hand
And wide the eyes of history grew
While gasping grasped His plan
He knew the limits of the law
That rules we'd break was certain
And knew, He did, what prophets saw ~
That hope must be a person.
This person came, the Christmas reason
Son of God above ~
And Son of Man, the Christmas season
Birthed to us in love
He came to live within us
Check the label on the package
The Chief Postmaster mailed Hope thus
To heal our hearts of baggage
And so it is if shun we must
the past in such short order
Let's smuggle Christmas with us
As we cross the New Years border!