confessions from a grinch

 

If I'm gonna tell it then I gotta tell it all...

I'm having a hard time grasping why it seems bad things always happen this time of year. Sure, they happen year-round, but tragedy seems to strike families in more concentrated doses in these winter months. Off the top of my head, I can think of sickness, unexpected deaths, missing family members, and totally out-of-nowhere diagnoses affecting people all around me right now. People should be spending Christmas at home, cozy, in front of a fire, stomachs full of delicious food, not in cold hospital rooms, kneeling at church altars, signing divorce papers, or waiting by the phone for news. I just wonder how many ugly Christmas sweaters and cheerful "Merry Christmas" wishes are really hiding troubled hearts. Is it just me who thinks about this stuff?

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All I want to do is curl up with a warm bowl of Kraft macaroni and cheese (mixed with tuna, parmesan cheese, and lots of black pepper -- my fav), a blanky, and some stretchy pants, and have a Home Alone marathon.

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I haven't bought any Christmas presents except for JT's. And I'm beginning to think there's something dying underneath the mountains of dishes in my sink. The only dish I've washed lately was a pan I needed to use again -- to make Ramen noodles.

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Everyone knows this season is a nightmare for those who work retail, but be sure to sympathize with those you know who get paid to send information to and ask more out of those in retail. That might be a little worse.

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I've tried to watch White Christmas exactly twice in my life, and fell asleep or lost interest both times. I can do It's a Wonderful Life, and of course, I love Judy Garland's haunting rendition of "Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas," in Meet Me in St. Louis (does that count as a Christmas movie?), but the revered Christmas classic White Christmas is more than a little agonizing to me for some reason. I guess I'm more of a The Family Man, A Christmas Story, or Love, Actually kind of girl.

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On the topic, A Christmas Story is absolutely the best remedy for Christmas Eve insomnia. I've been known to be too excited for sleep the night before Christmas, so I simply start watching the movie, fall asleep, and wake up at that exact point the next time they play the movie. It's genius! Can you tell my family is really big on movies this time of year?

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I tried to talk JT out of sending Christmas cards to some people, denying the importance of sending a picture of yourself to people you haven't spoken with in years. We discussed whether this gesture constitutes the maintenance of a healthy relationship, or if it's just an empty, artificial tradition and a waste of postage. Insisting on parameters that give people the worth of 44 cents makes me feel most Grinch-like of all.

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Every year, my family meets in my parents' living room for a Christmas tradition. Some of us curl up on the couch, others sprawl out on the floor, listening in silence to the story of a Savior born in a manger. While most eyes in the room sparkle with deep thought, mine still tear up when my dad reads the Christmas story from the Bible. And somehow, that story trumps all of these confessions and brings warmth and hope to my heart again.

When I think about that story, and what it led to, it makes trudging through the winter slush of heavy hearts and endless to-do lists all worth it. I'm praying any one who's having a hard time this Christmas will find their needs met (even if not in the way they expected), their minds comforted, and their hearts filled with the strength and courage to face life head-on. And I'm compelled to be on the lookout for ways I can reap the blessings I've received from the cross and the manger and pay it forward. Those opportunities pop up more often than we realize, and can really make all the difference in the world if only we keep our eyes open.