If You Hate Christmas... 

Every year, more than once, I hear the words "I hate Christmas".  I have spoken these very words myself. I always wonder what prompts these words.  Is it the commercialisation?  Is it counting losses?  Is it being alone and/or lonely?  Is it the physical reminder of the past year, that may not have been great for some, for we know the new year is around the corner and are too broken to have hope for a new year?  Is it the rushing and the hustle and bustle that sets our spirits on edge?  Is it the placing of expectations upon ourself to meet what only our societally depicted standards have harmfully demanded?  Placing aside for a minute that I empathise with abuse victims and survivors, for Christmas is truly the worst out of all the "bads", for me it is the hustle and bustle.  I know it is for many of you too, whether you would admit it or not.  Here I am, this what is lovingly referred to as old soul, out there to do my duty as a believer getting literally run over. The 'babies' are out there oohing and aahing, energy flying amuck and scattered everywhere.  I figure I have mastered the art of white lighting and masking myself in positive energy but I take one step into "the malls" and God love us all, it becomes a nightmare.  It feels like I'm walking lost in a maze but in the forest with all the tree branches and foliage brushing against me everywhere.  I get that overwhelmed want to run feeling that reeks of wanting to scream get away from me, don't touch me, and body chills...yuck.  I get to wander through this maze for hours and hours.  Then I wonder why I say "Jesus, I'm sorry, I hate Christmas!". 

But, aaaahhhhh, I get to go home then;  to peaceful surroundings I have made for myself honouring that quiet night so long ago when only a star lit the way.  I look at my lights being the reminder that lights should have lit that manger like the Fourth of July, and I wrap gifts for others remembering that I am blessed to be able to do this for many are not.  I light my candles of the hope of peace and of love for humankind.  I glance at my wreath hanging on my front door welcoming others to my peaceful sanctuary.  I have placed a sash in the window to honour the memory of those whom have gone before.  I sit on the floor, quietly gazing upon my nativity scene complete with star and remember that quiet nite so long ago when only a star lit the way.  I pray, then, that every spirit in human form may have this time of peacefulness even if only long enough to carry them through wanting to scream "I hate Christmas!". 

Morrigan O. Wilde © December/2000 
Revised for editorial purposes
 © December 16, 2001