Merry Christmess

I spent Christmas day at my parent's house, where they stuck in a dvd of converted 8mm films of my childhood Christmases.

It explained so much.

I was mesmerized by the movies. I'm pretty sure there wasn't a single shot of me in my early years where I actually looked happy. Thank God I wasn't, smiling would have just led to wrinkles. Also, it never really looked like I got the hang of crawling. No wonder I had to take College Algebra so many times.

And the parenting? My mom gave suckers to babies! Let little kids make their own chocolate milk! Took baby me camping and practically left me on a rock while dunking my brother's feet in freezing water. And the list goes on and on to include other things my own mother would have personally turned me into Child Welfare for had I even thought about trying with her precious grandson. And this one scene? She claims she was "rocking" me, but I don't know - it could have been shaken baby syndrome.

The Pastor was so transfixed by the movies it put him into a deep trance. Wait a minute, he fell asleep. All of this insight, right there in front of him, and he took a siesta. Is it any wonder he won't be able to figure out what to give me on January 6?

As if the movies weren't depressing enough, then there's all the Christmas cards and holiday letters. If you didn't get one from me, its because I don't send them out.

Somewhere around mid-December when the seasonal affective disorder is in full bloom, I get that final card/letter, the one that tips the scales and causes me to collapse in a puddle of tears. Why oh why, I lament, why don't I have a darling family with matching shirts? I think about it. I fool around with it. Look on-line at different cards. Draft up a letter. Try to put the perfect spin on my family and our events over the past year. Its complex though. With divorce and remarriage, no one is here at the same time. Its hard to include amusing anecdotes and stories about children that really do want to turn you into DHS. Then throw in the Pastor's insane work schedule, and I begin to wonder if people will think its weird for me to send out a card with only my picture on it and no words. After all, I am amazingly wrinkle-free after years of not smiling. Then I even begin to feel bad for not having at least a dog, cat or hamster to take a picture of and stick on a card. I lose the will to send cards, I lose the will to blog and end up in front of the tv where I end up watching the Duggar family with 18 kids which only makes me feel even more inadequate. To you it may be a simple holiday greeting, to me, its a downward spiral.

I'm glad the letters have finally stopped and I no longer have to dread having an anxiety attack when the mail drops through the slot.

I have ripped down the tree, but remember Santa doesn't come to see me until January 6 when the wise men went to see baby Jesus. My wise guy thinks with all this extra time he'll have a clue. He doesn't. We went to the mall together on December 26, and like the home movies he wasn't paying attention. Let me help. Pastor, that pink Coach bag you picked up? Not what I want.

In my doing research of the 12 days of Christmas to try to relate to the Pastor and help him out, I learned that the 12 days of Christmas are misunderstood and complex. Way to make it more complicated Pastor. Let's keep it simple, much like that baby born so long ago, wrapped in swaddling clothes, with a sucker in her mouth.

1 comment:

Jana Kathleen said...

Dear Robyn-
I was in a kid's musical at my church growing up long ago called "Dr. Newheart's Christmas Cure", and one of the songs was called the "Christmas Day Dumps" when the kids open everything and play with it and realize it's not what really makes them happy. I think about that song during this season, because it's supposed to be such a hopeful season (and it IS, of course, amazing that Christ came to us in our "mess"), but it can also be the "Christmas Season Dumps" when I want everything to be so magical and filled with wonder and whimsy and joy, and I just feel discouraged or disappointed with my own life.
I too read the Christmas letters and greeting cards, and wonder why I don't have much to say for myself. :) I don't think it will always be that way, and I also don't think we usually have the best perspective in the world about ourselves and our own lives. We're acutely aware of our shortcomings and flaws, but that's not how others truly see us.
I started reading a book called "All I Need is Jesus and a Good Pair of Jeans"- it's written by a frazzled pastor's wife named Susanna Foth Aughtmon and I find much hope, relatability and encouragement in it. :) I'd recommend it so far- I'm only on chapter 4 but it's a refreshing and straightforward read.

Blessings to you!