Christmas Lights in the Distance

11/16/05

by Diane Sprague

"And Tommy doesn't know what day it is..." - Christmas Day by The Who

I hate when people try to own a holiday. Holidays belong to all of regardless of our beliefs and backgrounds. The true meaning of our customs, symbols, and rituals can never be summarized by beliefs about the reason for the season. Definitively stating what it is we are looking for leaves many of us unsatisfied. This holiday came from the distant past where pagan imaginations formulated feasts and traditions when the earth became cold, dark, and sullen and the emptiness needed to be filled. Over time we mixed these imaginations with religion, commercialism, philanthropy, and our incessant need to acquire more and more stuff. What we ended up is a rather confusing holiday.

As a child what I loved about Christmas was its specialness. The decorations, colors, foods, and songs of the season created a world where the blandness of the day to day world was broken with a promise of something new, something different, something potentially surprising. Snow at that time was a magical blanket that created such wonders as snow days, forts, and paths for sleds. Each Christmas decoration for our tree was a small treasure that carried memories of past Christmases. Maybe the world could begin again and the newness and promise could continue when the decorations and colors went away. Except that they didn't. Even so, the ability to recreate the promise every year but the many traditions was endlessly intriguing.

When religion became mixed with the celebration, it became somewhat tiresome because of the endless reminders about the emptiness of it all without acknowledging the true meaning. Religion always has a strange way of leaving guilt to hang around to spoil things. I remember one church chiding us for rushing around buying gifts for others while we were leaving the true birthday boy out of our efforts. Unfortunately, they decided that Jesus wanted a sound system that church could use to make the choir sound better. Actually, the choir was one dreadfully bad sounding bunch of singers and I wanted to suggest muzzles instead, but nobody ever listened to me. Nope, Jesus was dead set on getting that sound system. Don't ask me why the same man who told the rich man to give away his possessions was now as covetous as the rest of us, but that's one of the strange things that religion does.

To make matters worse, the church I was forced into attending as a teenager decided that Christmas was a pagan holiday and to celebrate it was a grievous wrong. My December world became stripped. My family still visited relatives on Christmas and gave presents, but the decorations were taken away. The colors were gone. Our living room was as barren as it had been the rest of the year. The Christmas music was also silenced. Sundays were spend with people who were superior to the rest of the world because of what they didn't do, and like all superior people, they were incredible bores. Oh well, what they could not stop me from doing in the darkness during the car ride home from church was looking at the wonderful Christmas lights in the distance and finding comfort in the way they their pleasant colors would glow upon the winter snow. I could still hold onto the festive hope from far away even if those around me wanted to define the holiday in their own way, for their own reason, without consideration for the silent part inside of me that was seeking something more.

As an adult, it was easy to toss Christmas aside for awhile. I would tell myself it was a holiday for children and I was too busy to fuss with it too much. I still liked the decorations that surrounded me, but I did not spend much time putting any up myself. Any activity was just for my disillusioned self, and it became easier to just ignore this noisy holiday.

Then I had children. That introduced a new job, creating Christmas for them. This involves a tremendous amount of work: shopping, decorating, planning, shopping, cooking, baking, shopping. Christmas became all about them, their excitement, their smiles, and their joy. When it was fun for them, it was fun for me. I did not define the holiday for them, rather it seemed like my job was to create it and let them define it for themselves. There were some dark moments though, times when I did not live up to my husband's desire for enough stuff and the day was spoiled by a sulking anger. But mainly it was good. Over time, though, it does get exhausting and I look forward to having some reprieve. Some of my best memories of Christmas involve our Christmas walks where we would bundle up and take the dog with us as we strolled around the neighborhood enjoying the stillness of the Christmas lights sparkling in the lonely darkness. I wish I could keep the simplicity of that walk and set aside the rush of creating Christmas. I certainly no longer want the pressure of ever again filling up someone's emptiness with frivolous gifts and meaningless clutter.

As my children get older, I need to redefine Christmas once again. Last year was rough. I was left out of my families plans and had to fill up the hole that was left inside me with busyness and a stoic hardness. It was my first Christmas without an extended family the smallness of just my children and me was too much to handle. The day after Christmas I gleefully ripped the decorations and reminders down and packed them away. It was such a relief to put it all away.

Even so, another year has come. I don't know what I am looking for. Just lights in the distance. A holiday that is no longer defined by religion, family, and creating something for someone else. I don't know what day it is, but winter gets long, dark, and cold, so it helps to have one day to have some color and warmth surrounding me for a brief time.