"Therefore, my dear brothers, stand firm. Let nothing move you. Always give yourselves fully to the work of the Lord, because you know that your labor in the Lord is not in vain." ... 1 Corinthians 15:58
Every December it happens. I feel like such a large square peg jammed into a tiny round slot.
Like, whenever my kitchen radio plays "It's The Most Wonderful Time of The Year," I mutter, "Uh, no. It's not."
I mean, hey. When it's an old fashioned Buffalo December (like this one), we're already buried in snow and I'm shoveling it at 6 a.m. in 10 degrees, asking God to deliver me from worrying about Tom slipping out there while driving or walking. And it's not safe for me to take daily walks, so extra weight shouts to its buddies, "Quick! Wrap yourself around Debra." (Yes, Tom and I need a treadmill. We're currently in negotiations for one, trying to imagine ways to squeeze one in here.)
And then friends are, well, generally too busy to talk, email or encourage one another in December because of being busier than ever and all stressed-out about gift-giving, money woes, parties and expectations. Their heads are into decorating, baking, wrapping gifts and holiday shows while my own brain twiddles its thumbs, waiting for the Nation's insanity to return to calm.
Truthfully? I wish Christmas in December meant only meditating about Jesus' birth. You know, not substituting 'the spirit of Christmas' or 'it's all about family,' instead and I wish that spreading real cheer downtown, sacrificially giving to others and gathering with loved ones was The Big Theme for the other 11 months. And wishing no one morphed into someone not them, but rather, stayed their same, sweet selves. Or became eternally sweeter. Or something.
(Stop me before I alienate myself from the whole world. Oh wait. I already did that years ago.)
My own most wonderful time of the year? Early Spring. Now that's a time I can get excited-out-of-my-brain about. Only the tiniest patch of snow here and there and crocuses poking their heads above the ground. Green lawns, not muddy white ones and forget-me-nots in the best shade of blue, ever. Taking walks again(!) and sitting on the sunny front porch with a magazine and wearing only one layer of clothing, not three...
... and the promise of eight more gorgeous, sun and fun months ahead.
Yep, give me early Springtime and celebrating Jesus and a (sane) giving lifestyle all 12 months instead of cramming it into just one. Now there would be a wonderful time of year worth singing about--the whole year. Indeed.
Okay.... No more 'I wish Christmas was all year long posts.' Well, no more this year, anyway. :)
Oh, and honestly, I feel great! (In case you wondered.) This is just a subject that's hard to write about and difficult to make others understand since it's the polar opposite of what is taught and practiced. Generally.
Here it is again: a calm, sane place to escape this crazy week before Christmas.