Getting Choked Up

These are difficult days, goes the refrain for those who are struggling during the holidays. The lights, decorations, and music are emotional triggers for some, and instead of being a season of joy it becomes a season of sadness.

As I listened to someone getting choked up talking about it, I thought about why this season carries such power. While I have always adored Christmas, there’s a deep longing and sadness that lie beneath the surface. Thinking of my childhood and Christmases with my children, I can get pulled beneath the surface of the season and closer to my soul’s deepest longings. Like my friend, I get choked up easily at this time of year.

Fred Buechner, one of my favorite spiritual writers, said that when we get choked up, when our hearts ascend into our throats, we should pay attention. It’s then that our defenses are lower, and our souls are closer. In a season when we talk about God being with us, when we’re reminded of the gift of family and friends, when the losses of life point us to the sacredness of every minute, it is little wonder why we find ourselves getting choked up.

To be unable to sing a carol because our heart is in our throat is a reason to give thanks for the gift of this time of year. It's difficult because it matters. The petty stuff we so often focus on slips away and we face the memories, blessings, and longings found only in our souls. No wonder we get choked up.

May it always be so.

Advent I: Becoming expectant

Expectations are the kiss of death. As they say in 12-step recovery circles, “Expectations are premeditated resentments.” No matter how hard I try, I find myself walking through life with countless expectations. I rejoice when they’re met and groan when they are not.

Nowhere is that more apparent than during the holidays. Whether fueled by romantic views of my childhood, or a deep longing for things to be “just so,” I come to this time of year with a sleigh full of expectations. No wonder I’m often frustrated and disappointed. I end up seeing what isn’t, rather than what is.

This year I’m trying to change my perspective by altering my stance. Instead of standing back, leaning on my heels with arms crossed waiting to see how this Christmas season doesn’t meet my expectations, I’m unfolding my arms and leaning on my toes as if peering over a wall to see what this season might bring. I’m trying to give up my expectations so I can become expectant

With such a changed stance, the season itself becomes a gift. I unwrap it, not wondering if the giver had listened to my instructions and bought what I specifically asked for. Instead, I celebrate the mystery of the gift itself, knowing the giver knows just what I need.

Thanksgiving 2022: Who's at your table?

One of my favorite episodes of Modern Family is when they try to replicate the Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving painting. As you can imagine, nothing goes right and by the time the photograph is taken the audience gets the point: no Thanksgiving gathering is perfect. More than that, however, is the deeper point that within all the imperfections is something sacred.

It leaves me wondering about this year’s Thanksgiving and who will be at our tables. Will it be a collection of family members trying to replicate an ideal painting? Will people dress up and only bring their “acceptable” selves? Will the couple whose marriage is on the rocks smile as they try to get a picture for the Christmas card? Will the person unhappy at work tout his most recent success? Will the anxious child pretend such gatherings are easy? Will the one who drinks too much at family occasions wait until people leave to crawl inside the bottle? Will the grieving spouse refrain from looking at the empty seat on her right?

Like the television sitcom, it’s tempting at this time of year to present the edited versions of our families and ourselves. Such perfection is impossible, such striving exhausting. Maybe it’s time to give our imperfections a seat at the table. Who knows, maybe in doing so we’ll find something sacred.