Blink-by-Blink
On searching for the light this Christmas
I never quite get over how regular December always feels. Regular, at best. We muddle through November, aching for celebration. We pull its warmth over us and for a while, it feels like it might be enough. Blink-by-blink, the block, then the street, then wide stretches of the city shout down the darkness with LED lights. Our synapses snap in recognition. I remember this. We are a child again, with peppermints and school parties. We’re a child, looping pipe cleaner creations on the artificial tree. We’re a child, and we could have sworn the snow was up to our waists.
Santa Claus, or whoever is in charge of this part of the deal, was smart to hook us while we were young. We carry those memories as motion pictures in our bones. I will never forget unwrapping the purple denim purse of my dreams, spritzing my wrists with Exclamation! perfume. Sitting by the wood-stove and filling in the tiny blanks on my first paint-by-by number. Humble gifts that felt extravagant.
My dad had a beef with the popular figure of Santa kneeling at Jesus’ manger. Suffice it to say, Jesus was the reason. The only reason, dangit. So I knew the story and I knew the songs. I knew it mattered very much to believe, and to say it was the part I cared about most.
I’m not sure what gets lost in translation between the feeling of Christmas and what it always turns out to be. My best guess is regular, old adulthood.
We grow, we learn, and thank God, we come to reconcile our inability to explain the mystery with the blind hope we carry, accumulated through lifetimes of disappointments, catastrophes, and unmerited relief. We know what we know, and some of us still believe. Some of us caught belief from the ashes themselves.
~
Last Sunday my family awoke to a friend of ours (mostly Cory’s,) pounding on our door like his house was on fire. Over the course of the day, Cory tried to offer comfort through a mental health crisis. We talked about options. (There were none.) We urged various solutions. (He refused.) At one point, he told Cory he wanted to do something to get arrested, so he could go back to jail. In the dim light of December, it felt like his best option. What’s worse, is that we didn’t disagree.
I won’t tick down the list of heartbreaks that have landed since then. You already know about most of them, and you have your own to add to the pile.
Then there’s the hustle we swear we won’t cave to every year.
The promises we break about shopping early. Carving out space to reflect. More merriment! Maybe sequins!
(Sometime during the first week of December, I walked through my neighborhood and counted sixteen houses I wanted to take treats to this year. Sixteen! So far, I’ve saved enough for two.)
Our intentions might be pure but our limitations are louder.
We long for cheer, for connection, for a break from the sadness; yet tumble into practicality.
Some years I write Advent reflections and other years I read someone else’s. This year, I’ve barely done either. What I have done is drag cardboard boxes off the porch and hide stocking-stuffers so well, they might be lost forever. Life closes in and I punish myself when what sticks is the stuff that’s not supposed to matter.
I wake up tired and drive numb through the dark of morning.
“Noel, Noel, Come and see what God has done” she sings through the speakers as I pass the 7-11.
“The light of the world, given for us.” I glance at the duplex where I once spent ten shell-shocked minutes, back when I was trying to adapt to this life where people didn’t bother hiding their open wounds.
I have struggled to make sense of eternal hope in the midst of urgency and survival.
But in that moment, as the sun crept golden up the horizon and kitchens windows glowed, I remembered.
This is more melancholy than I meant it to be. Know that I’ve been baking like crazy (and we’ve been eating it just as fast.) We’ve enjoyed shopping for each other, tucking little gifts under our tiny tree. We watched Home Alone (Lord help us), lit candles, and played dozens of rounds of speed Scrabble with Charlie Brown music in the background.
Tornadoes and cocoa.
Politics and Joy to the World.
On Wednesday, Cory ran into his friend at the jail. “His hug almost crushed me!”
On Sunday, we’ll receive communion.
We can’t make sense of these things. But there’s still goodness swirling with this bitter air. Given for us.
Noel.
A Little Bit of Glitter
:: I will never stop recommending Party Bark.
It is truly the only Christmas treat you’ll ever need. I added this quick tutorial (with some very Shannan-y editorial commentary) on my Instagram highlights. Watch here.
:: Another mostly-melancholy post from this week
:: Thrift store Christmas mugs make lots of things better!
:: I created this Christmas playlist a few years ago and it’s still my favorite. (Think cozy vibes, complexity, and solid medium-merry feels. My kids don’t “get” or appreciate it, which might really be all I need to say by way of explanation.)
:: Last but NOT least, I dug out this magnificent video of Calvin singing at a Christmas Eve service when he was THREE.
Medium-Merry Christmas to you, my friends to the end.
Let’s keep taking the moments as they come, always looking for the lights blinking on somewhere.
Love,
Shannan
“Because of God’s tender mercy, the morning light from heaven is about to break upon us, to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, and to guide us to the path of peace.”
- Luke 1:78-79
As always, if you want to be part of the Secret Soup community, you can find us right here!
And for your friend who has everything except for a fun community of sock-wearers/book-readers/show-watchers/pot-stirrers…
Please enjoy this photo of the morning light of our living room, where I’ve been editing my next book for dayyyyyys. (Garland finger-knitted and strung by Silas, of course.)
Thank you for writing from your heart, your real. It expresses how I feel and, I believe, many others do also. Merry Christmas, with love from NC
Just what I needed this morning - and I can't wait to try Party Bark! Now I know why I felt like I should buy mini pretzels at Aldi's yesterday...