I used to complain majorly when stores pinned-up their Christmas decorations in August and displayed their It's a Wonderful Life dvd's and holiday project supplies and green and red foiled candy bags with reckless abandon during Labor Day week.
I'd write essays about the folly of all that and determine not to shop at those stores (or I'd go and then sail down the aisles with my cart and righteous indignation). I'd pretend all the green and red was gone and I'd complain in my heart (and to any live person who paused to listen) about rushing Christmas rather than appreciating Autumn yet unspent.
What a big, fat, huge waste of Time. And energy, daylight, health and breath.
It was all about control--or the lack thereof. Here was yet one more part of my life where I could not make people do what I believed they should. Just one more area where ol' Debra couldn't force folks to view Life as she does and then do what she thought best.
When I got married I experienced Control Freak Frustration big time. I mean, I'd waited all those 18 years to become an adult, all the while believing this annoying lie, "When you grow-up, you can do whatever you want." (Huh. As if!) Then I married at 19 and discovered the ol' marriage-is-all-about-compromise thing and God says women aren't supposed to boss their husbands around and you have to wait for having Enough Money and a baby changes everything and if, after you've worked all day you have any time or money or strength left, well, then you can do what you want.
But still I tried and tried to control all of my pieces of Life and all of yours, too, and all of the whole world's, including the Christmas in August thing.
And finally--finally!-- I just got tired. Tired of the frustration neck aches. Tired of bossing around the whole wide world like an orchestra leader standing in the center of a wild mob with instruments, each playing his own song, yet with me twirling around and around, trying to force all band members to play the same song
Oh the dizziness! And do you know why it didn't work? Because from In The Beginning, it was never supposed to work.
We're all meant to play our own songs--and to God, above--the songs rise and make perfect harmonies for Him. And that's how it was supposed to be.
And since I got that? Oh, the peace of choosing to pray. The weightless calm of leaving my limited understandings in God's palms instead of dragging them with me, scraping upon sidewalks.
So let there be Christmas in August or September or even February. The whole 12 months of the year is ok, for every day is a perfect one for me to remember the birth of the lover of my soul. Doesn't matter if other folks recall something altogether different when they see the red and green wrapped candy. Nope! What matters is that I leave the bossing to God, that I love Him and that I love others who make extremely different choices than mine. And that I keep--and spread-- Peace on Earth.
Technically, one long, lazy battle still drags on--the one where I try making Tom do what I believe he should. You'd think after 32 years that war would have ended, but rather, it's just toned way down. :)
1 Thessalonians 4:11
"... and to make it your ambition to lead a quiet life: You should mind your own business and work with your hands, just as we told you... "