I used to love Christmas and the things that surrounded it. The luminous lights, the December decorations, and of course the tasty treats. Remembering a time before the Internet when you couldn’t buy peppermint bark in July and when Santa’s wasn’t competing with scary witches. Our years in America are no longer marked by the sun, but by the retail selling season. Taking our cues from Walmart as opposed to the weather’s wonders.
Nowadays, even before Christmas comes, any empty shelves are swiftly stocked with Valentine’s Day candy, corny cards and cheap colossal teddy bears. Life reduced to consumption as opposed to contemplation. The human experience of happy holidays hollowed out by stuff.
As an adult whose heart was devoted to materialism, my Yuletide sentimental memories only fueled my delusional desires to re-create a Martha Stewart Christmas tableau every year. Decorating every home we lived in with faux Chinese made greenery, plastic pet safe Poinsettia, and imported electronic gadgets that projected sound, light or both. A sensory overload of stuff because nothing captures the true meaning of Christmas like incurring thousands of dollars of debt in pursuit of perfection and yet, nothing was perfect because perfection exists only in our imagination never in our reality.
My decades of faith in durable decorations became replaced by a heart that no longer finds happiness in trying to create an idyllic Currier and Ives print or the perfect Norman Rockwell image. Efforts that have only grown more burdensome with every new December. My body reminding me of all the Christmases I’ve already experienced as it aches after each new marathon of decking the halls, house and hedging.
Last year, Christmas decorating was paused with our Thanksgiving move into our new house. Ornaments, stockings and lights that silently waited eleven months to be unpacked remained in storage. Losing any hope that St Nicholas or Don would soon be there to liberate them from their plastic penitentiary. Sentenced to another year of confinement without the opportunity to glitter or glow or glisten.
As Thanksgiving quickly approaches, my senses are again swimming in a sea of nostalgia. Melancholy memories wrap my heart in past Christmas celebrations that are both bitter and sweet. Like life, Christmas is a story of birth and death; life and love.
This year Christmas decorating is at a crossroads. The task of trimming the tree feels taxing while the thought of re-acquainting myself with every ornament will bring either sad smiles, terrible tears or in some cases, both. Advent trinkets that seduce my heart with memories of Christmas past and those who have left me. A list that only increases with each passing year; every new Christmas night more silent than the previous.
Wrestling with my somber realization that my memories of Christmas past remind me how lonely I am in my Christmas present. Joining a silent vigil of solitary souls who wait in an expectant darkness for the Light of the world. Avoiding any thoughts of Christmas future, keeping those hidden like decorations that will remain in storage.
Spiritually awake, my heart is no longer in allegiance to stuff or status or societal say-so. Even as I empty my heart of Christmas things, I still find joy in filling my heart with Christmas song. Both the earthly and the heavenly still sing to me; my heart pining for love that’s not just seasonal but year-round.
The sacred songs speak to my heart differently than in the past. Comprehending new ways to celebrate and cheer what joy to the world or peace on earth are supposed to look like and lived. Reconnecting with departed ancestors who sung these same ancient lyrics. Recalling family candlelight Christmas Eve services when we sung these same ancient lines. Reconstructing tradition with my voice as I sing these same ancient lyrics.
I don’t know if any decorations will be resurrected this year, but I do know that my heart truly treasures every human and creature who has contributed love to my life. It’s this, not the things, that I ponder and cherish as I celebrate my sixtieth Christmas in this realm. A blessing in itself.
My heart indifferent to Christmas stuff because my heart is defined by love. Love that reflects the good news and great joy for all people including you and me. For unto us, a Savior, Christ the Lord was born on this day in the city of David. I now I know, like Charlie Brown, this is what Christmas truly is about. Merry Christmas.
Peace. God loves you.
Readers note: This was written over Thanksgiving weekend 2025; posted on 12/20/25.
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