Archive: Opinions

I'm sure you have heard (and probably also expressed) the popular lament that the Christmas season seems to begin the week after (or even before?) Halloween. I'm pretty sure that a local/national drug store chain was beginning to display Christmas candy and Martha Stewart-esque holiday trimmings around October 25th or so this year. When I asked a clerk how she felt about the ever-earlier displays and retail 'push', she rolled her eyes, hands uplifted and could only say "Crazy, isn't it?"

It's superficial, sure, and I've usually been able to shrug it off as the rampant display of consumerism and 'Get it now' that in reality manifests itself constantly no matter the season, but as I get older it does poke my sense of silliness. Considering the feelings of holiday expectations, frequently flummoxed, and enduring emotions that can be described as holiday disappointments (the two coexist in most of us since childhood, wouldn't you admit?) I am perhaps more attuned to something going on around me that I need to observe and listen to. And share.

Friends in church and other venues are expressing the pressures of the season, the pressures of limited time available for family gatherings, holiday plans, travels, visits. "I don't know how I'm going to do all of this" is the refrain of so many that I know, probably you as much as anyone... interestingly it seems to come mostly from women I know, much less so men, as they cite pressures, worries, concerns about in-laws and outlaws visiting, baking and cooking, decorating, and underneath it all seems to be feelings of having to 'do it all alone', though that word rarely pops up in the words of frustration and general 'craziness'.

It's the word 'alone' that continues to strike me. While listening politely and with empathy to the expressions of 'craziness' (and some of it must be related to finances, or lack thereof, of course) I recognize that much of that frustration is really tempered with love and the ability and privilege to share the holiday spirit with those they love. Their days and nights are filled with preparations, perhaps some trepidation, but hopefully with a sense of 'together' and the original idea of Christmas. But are there people who listen to these little complaints of 'too little time' and wish, covertly, quietly, sadly, that they wish they had the same problem? That they wish they had someone to bake for, cook for, wrap a present for, await a visit? To have the joy which others seem to consider a burden?

I have started to think this year of those who are dealing with holiday 'stuff', but who, inside, are dealing with exactly the opposite. Who have no plans, who, through any one of a number of circumstances, have perhaps few, or even no gifts to ponder and purchase and wrap, who disclaim the urge to decorate a lonely apartment or home, no matter how modestly. There will be no baking, no elaborate food preparation for relatives for this person I am thinking about. A meal for one. There will be no holiday travel (over the river and through the woods...) nor will there be a visitor that day, or week.

Thanksgiving has its free turkey dinners and camaraderie at locations all around, but churches and community halls are generally quiet this Christmas Day, and this lonely person I am thinking of will sit quietly and think, perhaps, about Christmas past. The phone will not ring, and if there are any sounds of children's glee while playing with a new gift it will be at an apartment down the hallway, or across the street. His or her radio will play reminders that it is a special day somewhere else, not in this small, un-decorated abode with no Christmas cheer.

Somehow, this man or woman has been gradually (and probably inadvertently) separated from the world. Maybe deaths in the family or friends, maybe just the inevitability of aging has conspired to narrow this person's world. An isolation which has become part and parcel of their lonely life, but is now so exacerbated during the weeks of others' preparation for the holiday. Many call it Advent, a time of coming, a new day, a season of anticipation, but to the many lonely who quietly surround us it is not a 'coming' at all, but another silent period of pain. And, these people do surround us, if only we could open our eyes.

The parents of Jesus must have felt pretty alone, too, those nights in Bethlehem. Finding a simple meal and shelter in a place teeming with strangers and no real idea of what to expect tonight, or tomorrow. Our modern loneliness has all the conveniences of the 21st century, as well as the same feelings of lost strangers in a lost, strange land of Christmas cheer. The 'last, the least and the lost'......to which I would add 'the lonely' in this season....and this season makes me think of them, too. The Eleanor Rigbys and the Father Mackenzies, all waiting (as I blatantly mix song titles) for someone to say 'Hello in there...'. 'Tis the season for many things: so much positive, so much hope, so many wishes for world peace (and our own private peace, too, eh?). Perhaps you might know someone (you won't have to look far, I daresay) who as they listen to you talk about 'so much to do, so little time', their own heart of hearts is thinking how lovely this busy-ness would be, such a blessing to have someone to share the holiday cheer...if only.

I promise you, if you take a brief, harried second to look around you that you will 'run into', or know, someone who would love to be a little less lonely, a little more busy, during the next two weeks. This would not be a 'random act of kindness', as the cliche goes, but a deliberate act to lower the lonely population by one with an act of kindness, of acknowledging their human presence. Not just opening your wallet: that's easy, and we all do it within our ability. It's, really, opening up our heart, opening our ears and eyes, looking and listening for someone who needs a human touch, a reaching out, an ear, a smile. An offer to 'be there'. A question "How are you doing?" "Can I help you?" "Can I visit you?" "Have you plans for Christmas?" "Might I bring you a little Christmas dinner, or just a little visit?" "Do you have plans for Christmas day?". Such is a gift.

Reach out your hand, your heart...see someone who might need your acknowledgement, and ease a lonely heart. Touch the spirit that we speak of this time of year. Look up: There's a new and brilliant star in that hopeful sky. It's Christmas. Reach out and hold someone's hand who so needs your caring smile and word. Celebrate. Merry Christmas, friend.

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