I'm going to absolutely admit it, I've not been the most pleasant this holiday season thus far. Actually, that's putting it lightly. I've been sassy. I've been mean. I've been sad. I've been distant. I've been having a big ole' pity party daily. Surely I'm justified in that, right? I mean, Christmas is just so expensive and money is tight. Last year I had a close friend to do fun holiday activities with, this year I don't. My dog is aging and can't walk some days. The weather is yucky. I miss my Grandma. I could go on and on. Those, my dear friends, are excuses. And I've been full of them.
Why was this holiday season feeling so different than all the rest?
Where are you Christmas? Why can't I find you? Why have you gone away? Where is the laughter you used to bring me? Why can't I hear music play?
I've put up my tree, made handmade decorations, shopped till I dropped, baked cookies, watched Rudolph, burnt yummy smelling candles...and still nothing. Why can't I FEEL it? I've ran down the to-be-happy-at-Christmas checklist, put marks in all the boxes and I'm still not happy.
This morning, during one of those "God moments" I love so much, I realized the problem. ME! I've lost Christmas. I let the true meaning get lost among the shuffle.
I can't make Christmas.
All of the candy canes and sugar cookies in the world can't make Christmas. I am reminded of my favorite line from my favorite childhood Christmas movie...What if Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store. What if Christmas...perhaps...means a little bit more! And we know that. I know that. But yet, I still find myself trying to find Christmas in things.
I've let the voice of the world drown out His voice.
Christmas is not about our happiness. God didn't send His son to earth so that Amy could feel all warm of fuzzy every holiday season. It's not about anyone's feelings, not yours and not mine.
Christmas isn't about my need to feel happy, it's about the birth of our Savior. And if I remember that, if I embrace it, then I will find my Christmas.