Christmas Time: A time of joy, laughter and. . . oh, who am I kidding?

It's that time of year again - where the sights and sounds resonate with echoes of Christmas.  Each corner you turn, every other Facebook post you see, almost every song you hear speaks about Christmas. 

Yet, the feeling does not resonate with me.  Each year, I try to catch the spirit of Christmas, but instead of catching the intended good vibes, I seem to catch a sickness.  Deep within me, my soul aches for the joy and laughter that comes with each decoration and string of lights.  Each gift bought should lighten my step as we approach the twenty-fifth of December, yet I am weighed down with each passing day.  While my family plots the location of the Christmas tree, I secretly wish that they'd come to the conclusion that there is no room.  Christmas is not my favorite time of year. 

No matter how I strive to "fake it till I feel it," the truth of the matter is I am crumbling inside.  Instead of the excitement of clearing the space to place decorations and presents, I mutter under my breath at the inconvenience and extra work load.  While I purchase gifts with good intentions, I harbor resentment for the expectation that gifts be exchanged.  This is the one time of year that we hear from certain people, seeking to bless us, and all I can think about is how we are conveniently forgotten throughout the other 11 months of the year.

Yes, the message is in the manger - in the Word made flesh - in the babe that would come to rescue us from the sin and darkness in which this world feels so comfortable wrapping itself.  Each symbol of Christmas can find meaning in the humble beginnings of the Christ child - the gifts of frankincense, gold and myrrh; the North Star that lead the magi through the desert; the tree that would eventually become the wood from which the cross would be built and upon which Christ would willingly give His life for mine.   All this and more give deeper meaning to the season and ideally would alleviate the pain and frustration that wells up inside as the first holiday display appears earlier and earlier every year.

But what is all this about, really?  While so many find satisfaction in this thing called Christmas, I find it hollow and lacking.  I know I can't be the only one that feels this way.  Yet, it's a very lonely place to live.  As much as I've grown over the last year and a half, this is one area in which I continue to struggle.  No, it's not because my husband travels over 200 days a year and our celebrations are often moved to an alternate day.  No, it's not just because I didn't grow up celebrating Christmas and instead went through the motions of celebrating the Feast of Hanukkah in a very secular sense.  The whole thing leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.

Why does this holiday season seem to bring anger, depression and loneliness?  Why can I not find joy in the little preparations and celebrations that lead up to the "big day?"  I often recount the story of Ebeneezer Scrooge and how a visit from the spirits of Christmas past, present and future altered the very nature of his heart and the cold, dark lump that once lay within his chest was transformed into a something warm and alive, yearning  to love and be loved.  Even Elsa, who's cold gift caused her to retreat within herself, found that a "act of true love" could melt her frozen heart.  So, why not me?

I hear the Scripture tell me that the very Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead lives in me and because of that, I can do all things through Christ who gives me strength  for God has said to me that His grace is sufficient as His strength is made perfect in my weakness.   I know that Mary contemplated all the things that God had showed her about her future son and I cannot imagine what she felt and knew as she walked by faith and not by sight.

It's all well and good.  My mind knows so many things.  My eyes see that much more.  But, my heart does not follow suit.  When does it change?  Eighteen months of intense counseling, major breakthroughs and revelation and I still sit here feeling more anger than joy, more empty than full and ever so weak instead of strong in the Lord.

With whom can I be real? Is there no one that I can share this with?  Even the thought of picking up the phone to my counselor brings pain.  I feel guilty sharing with my friends whom I know can relate.  As they battle their own difficulties,  I feel as if I add an extra measure of chaos into their lives as I reach out for comfort and counsel.  In all reality, I know that those who are close probably don't feel as repulsed by my struggles as I do, but still, I often cry while my child looks on, confused and anxious because her momma can't tell her why she's shedding tears.

"Let go. . give it to God."  Sometimes such as trite and meaningless statement.  I know what the Scriptures say.  I've leaned on them.  But for some reason, this particular season seems to test my faith in ways I can't describe.  My anger is targeted at my animals, my daughter, the housework - you name it, it all incites me to rage and  borderline violence.  Instead, the rage turns inward, tearing at the very fiber of my being, so physical in nature that I have kicked cabinets, banged my head against doors and dug my nails so deep into my skin that I drew blood.

Oh, we Christians don't talk about these things.  Violence doesn't become us.  Even as Jesus threw tables and hurled objects in the temple, His Righteous anger makes mine look petty and foolish.

Oh, foolish heart, how fickle you are.  Torn apart so easily by the ebb and flow of life.  As I stand on the shore, watching the reflection of the sun on the water (in my mind's eye, of course), I ponder the reflection I see of myself.  Do I reflect the dark and fallen world I struggle to live in or do I reflect the Son who came to save it?  It is true, what Peter said in 1 Peter 2:10-11:

"for you once were NOT A PEOPLE, but now you are THE PEOPLE OF GOD; you had NOT RECEIVED MERCY, but now you have RECEIVED MERCY. Beloved, I urge you as aliens and strangers to abstain from fleshly lusts which wage war against the soul. Keep your behavior excellent among the Gentiles, so that in the thing in which they slander you as evildoers, they may because of your good deeds, as they observe them, glorify God in the day of visitation." (NASB)

I am a stranger, an alien, a foreigner in a land to which I no longer belong.  "The world would love you as one of its own if you belonged to it, but you are no longer part of the world. I chose you to come out of the world, so it hates you." John 15:19 (NLT).  How easy it is to forget.   And, the verse before that reminds me that "If the world hates you, remember that it hated me [Jesus] first." John 15:18 (NLT).

As I finish typing, I smile weakly to myself how writing is so cathartic, revealing and liberating.  God speaks to me through my tears, through my caustic words and thoughts, and still brings me back to His Word, THE Word, Jesus.  While the pain does not dissipate quickly, I am reminded that the blessing is in the journey, not just at the end of it.  We often don't see the forest for the trees, but when we persevere, the outcome can be glorious.

Maybe, just maybe, I'll survive Christmas this year.  And perhaps, I'll even enjoy it. :)