December 12, 2001
� 2001, by Kathleen Gibson
I wish you�.Christmas
Christmas is not merry always. Last year at this time I was engulfed in grief. In the month before Christmas a sister died, then a loved pet, then a good friend and neighbour. I couldn�t sleep, eat, or think straight. The shopping was the worst. One afternoon I stood in front of a display of tea carafes in Canadian Tire. For a full half-hour I argued with myself about whether to get one for my main man.
�The Preacher would like that�No, you can�t get a tea butler for a guy for Christmas�.But several times he�s hinted that his tea gets cold in the pot�.I still say he�d prefer socks�No, this would be good�It�s too much money...Who cares?
Enough arguing. I reached out, tossed it into my buggy, trundled over two aisles, looked into my cart and said�aloud this time. �That�s a stupid thing!� Ignoring the shocked glance of the woman beside me, I scurried back to where I�d taken it from, thrust it onto the shelf, and finally fled from the store in tears.
�I can�t shop this year,� I told Rick. �You�re going to have to do it all.�
We�re a strange mix, the Preacher and I. He�s one of those rare men who doesn�t mind shopping. I mostly hate it, but I�ve always done the Christmas gift buying. He bustled to and from the stores, finally placing a multitude of intriguing, oddly shaped packages under the tree. That huge act of service was one of the best gifts he�s ever given me. Thankfully, I won�t need to ask him to repeat it this year. The shadows have receded, joy is returning, and I am truly a better person for all that.
A friend and I were discussing the tragic illness in her family. �I don�t need a baby this year,� she said honestly. �I need a full-grown Jesus. I don�t want a manger, I want the resurrection power of the cross.� Then, �I guess I don�t want Christmas at all. I�m ready for Easter, and I want it now.�
And my heart squeezed a little, because I understood completely.
Last year, most of the things I�d always thought necessary to Christmas were stripped away too. We had no outdoor lights; there was little entertaining; no baking or caroling. But at twilight on Christmas day, as the sun sank over the field I skied upon, and the evening star rose to take its place, I realized that I had all I needed of Christmas and more, right there in my heart. Emmanuel, Jesus�.God with us. He had traveled this road of grief before me; lighting lamps from the manger clear to the cross and the empty tomb to show me the path to the resurrection of my own soul. Christmas is everything with him, and nothing at all without him�only Christlessmas.
To those who are walking in shadowed valleys during this season of light, I wish you hope and time for healing. I wish you Jesus. I wish you�.Christmas.
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