by Jill Fandrich
My relationship with the Christmas season is “complicated,” as they say. On the one hand, I love Christmas. I love the Christmas story, the traditions, the nostalgia, the family time, and the generosity and good will it engenders (most of the time) in people. But I also struggle with the commercialization, the greed, the frenzy, and the unrealistic expectations for perfection and joy. How do we manage “the most wonderful time of the year” when sometimes it’s not particularly wonderful?
Christmas is very different for me and my husband now that we are retired empty nesters, but I’ll never forget how hectic it was when we were both working and our kids were young. Office parties (lots of them), school concerts (three kids at different schools), community events, shopping at crowded malls on weekends, writing Christmas cards, baking cookies, spending time with our aging parents in two different locations, decorating our house, wrapping presents into the wee hours on Christmas Eve, pageant rehearsals and special services at church, caroling at nursing homes, and generally running ragged from Thanksgiving to New Years Day.
In those years, there was a popular book which my church would sometimes pull out to provide “helpful” advice for families. It was called Unplug the Christmas Machine, and it was a well-meaning attempt to get people to slow down and focus on the important things during the holidays. It was also terribly guilt-inducing. I remember wanting to follow its advice, knowing what it said was right, and being absolutely unable to cut back because everything we did seemed important.
Time has taken care of a lot of “unplugging” in my life. Our kids are grown and have homes and families of their own. We can dote on the grandkids, and it’s fun for us rather than stressful. We try to all get together for the holidays and it’s great when we do, but ok when we can’t. They have jobs, in-laws, and busy schedules, and we support their decisions to balance accordingly. Do I miss the old days? Yes, in some ways. I miss the excitement and I miss the family and friends we’ve lost. But life moves on, as it should.
The pandemic also broke a lot of the expectations for “perfect holidays” because we had to make do with limited travel, less together-time, and choosing safety over traditions. Holiday parties were canceled, church services were all online, people (including families) couldn’t gather in large groups. But Christmas still happened, Jesus was still born, and God was and is still with us. The pandemic forced us to reset our expectations, and changed our perspective about what was and is important.
So Christmas is complicated, no matter what phase of life you’re in, which is why my church offers a special Longest Night Service each year. It is always held on December 21, the winter solstice, the day with the least sunlight and the most darkness. It is a service which recognizes that holidays can be difficult for people who are going through dark times in their lives. It is hard to have a “holly, jolly Christmas” when dealing with illness, grief, loss, loneliness, uncertainty, financial hardships, depression, or change. Even just the general feeling of disappointment that our lives aren’t like the Hallmark movies can be difficult. These things and the lack of light in northern winters can make us all feel like we are in the “longest night.”
We welcome everyone who would like a quiet, safe place to acknowledge the dark times in their lives and their hopes for better tomorrows. The Longest Night service offers a message of hope and a place of welcome. It will be Sunday evening, December 21, at 7pm in the Westminster Church chapel at 17 William St in downtown Auburn, and all are welcome.
One of my favorite bible passages comes from the Gospel of John; it says, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness shall not overcome it.” On the longest night of the year, we light candles to remind us that the next day and every day after will be a little bit brighter. It is one of the most powerful messages of the Christmas season, and one we hope to share with whoever needs to hear it.
My relationship with the Christmas season is “complicated,” as they say. On the one hand, I love Christmas. I love the Christmas story, the traditions, the nostalgia, the family time, and the generosity and good will it engenders (most of the time) in people. But I also struggle with the commercialization, the greed, the frenzy, and the unrealistic expectations for perfection and joy. How do we manage “the most wonderful time of the year” when sometimes it’s not particularly wonderful?
Christmas is very different for me and my husband now that we are retired empty nesters, but I’ll never forget how hectic it was when we were both working and our kids were young. Office parties (lots of them), school concerts (three kids at different schools), community events, shopping at crowded malls on weekends, writing Christmas cards, baking cookies, spending time with our aging parents in two different locations, decorating our house, wrapping presents into the wee hours on Christmas Eve, pageant rehearsals and special services at church, caroling at nursing homes, and generally running ragged from Thanksgiving to New Years Day.
In those years, there was a popular book which my church would sometimes pull out to provide “helpful” advice for families. It was called Unplug the Christmas Machine, and it was a well-meaning attempt to get people to slow down and focus on the important things during the holidays. It was also terribly guilt-inducing. I remember wanting to follow its advice, knowing what it said was right, and being absolutely unable to cut back because everything we did seemed important.
Time has taken care of a lot of “unplugging” in my life. Our kids are grown and have homes and families of their own. We can dote on the grandkids, and it’s fun for us rather than stressful. We try to all get together for the holidays and it’s great when we do, but ok when we can’t. They have jobs, in-laws, and busy schedules, and we support their decisions to balance accordingly. Do I miss the old days? Yes, in some ways. I miss the excitement and I miss the family and friends we’ve lost. But life moves on, as it should.
The pandemic also broke a lot of the expectations for “perfect holidays” because we had to make do with limited travel, less together-time, and choosing safety over traditions. Holiday parties were canceled, church services were all online, people (including families) couldn’t gather in large groups. But Christmas still happened, Jesus was still born, and God was and is still with us. The pandemic forced us to reset our expectations, and changed our perspective about what was and is important.
So Christmas is complicated, no matter what phase of life you’re in, which is why my church offers a special Longest Night Service each year. It is always held on December 21, the winter solstice, the day with the least sunlight and the most darkness. It is a service which recognizes that holidays can be difficult for people who are going through dark times in their lives. It is hard to have a “holly, jolly Christmas” when dealing with illness, grief, loss, loneliness, uncertainty, financial hardships, depression, or change. Even just the general feeling of disappointment that our lives aren’t like the Hallmark movies can be difficult. These things and the lack of light in northern winters can make us all feel like we are in the “longest night.”
We welcome everyone who would like a quiet, safe place to acknowledge the dark times in their lives and their hopes for better tomorrows. The Longest Night service offers a message of hope and a place of welcome. It will be Sunday evening, December 21, at 7pm in the Westminster Church chapel at 17 William St in downtown Auburn, and all are welcome.
One of my favorite bible passages comes from the Gospel of John; it says, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness shall not overcome it.” On the longest night of the year, we light candles to remind us that the next day and every day after will be a little bit brighter. It is one of the most powerful messages of the Christmas season, and one we hope to share with whoever needs to hear it.
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