From Christmas Lists to Joyful Stillness

So…someone’s been MIA at her computer, and it’s not you.

Holy moly, it's been a few weeks since I’ve sat and word processed (is that a verb?) about things that are meaningful to me. What has stopped me?

Like a 1,000-pound safe from the old movies that drops out of a window and lands on the sidewalk with a resounding thud…in drops…

…Holiday Shopping!

Apparently, it landed on my computer and made it impossible for me to work.

And I was onto the task like a mad woman. Before I could say leftover turkey, my past years of shopping madness took over and I was immediately in 5th gear. How do the commercials put it? Zero to sixty in 2.3 seconds?

First, it’s the list template of all for whom I need to buy gifts. Then the emails (to my kids) requesting their lists because I no longer have any imagination when it comes to something they may want – that went by the wayside many moons ago. Maybe a few texts to friends or other family members about what they might like. Once those are received, usually within a few weeks, the data received is then inputted into the list template.

Next, we begin the actual shopping via links provided for online purchases, checking costs, referring back to said template, back to the saved links, and back to template again which has now become a full-on checklist with checkmarks, prices, circles, asterisks, underlines, crossings off, adding on various colors to grab my attention now that the original pencilings have melded into one nebulous bowl of oatmeal. It’s a dance, I tell you. I have a feeling you all know what I’m talking about.

Then to the stores. No time for my workout? No problem, I can rack up all those steps and then some just walking through the parking lots. The physical list which spends time upstairs next to my desktop and downstairs next to my laptop now accompanies me from store to store, sometimes in my purse and sometimes in my pocket, pulled out and tucked back in another couple dozen times as each item and price is scrutinized and compared. Back and forth, from one store to the next, the list, now resembling a handicapped racing form, soon begins to wither a bit. (My parents played the horses and my dad made an art form out of covering the racing form with circles, asterisks, and underlinings.)

And don’t get me started on the gift card portion of the list – which cards, which denominations. Which is the BEST one for said recipient? Does Ralph’s grocery store have it or do I need to go into the specific store to get it? Then, if I hear that one of my kids already bought a particular gift card for another, I must now go back and figure out what to do with the gift card I have. Should I give it to someone else? What do I replace it with? Hows about we start scrambling the entire list around with a fun new game called Pass the Gift Cards? Aarrgghh! 

I know, I see you nodding your heads. You get it.

I start the day with the list, and I end the day with the list. I haven’t slept with it under my pillow (yet), but I guard it with my life. I actually once lost my list in a mall somewhere, and I never quite got over it.

As I sit here surrounded by a mound of packages collecting in my home over the last two weeks that either have to be opened or returned (with more to come), I am keenly aware that we haven’t even begun the wrapping process.

Stop. Stop. Stop! 

Slow down. Put on the breaks. Sit. Be Still. 

Breathe...

And I do. 

Somehow, in all that insanity (that I know bring upon myself), I have managed to maintain my centeredness in what author and spiritual director James Finley calls my “daily rendezvous with God,” a break from the full- steam-ahead of life, a contemplative sit, my morning practice.

So here I am, this moment, sitting upon the cushions in front of my second-floor bedroom window, gazing out beyond the little angel figurine that sits on the sill, taking in what is always there for me, always steady, always faithful and constant. I am sustained by the beauty of the two palm trees in the distance situated next to a row of cypress and various other trees, all tucked in and scattered around the rooftops of neighboring houses. Some mornings this vista is emblazoned by a glorious sunrise or a compelling clear blue sky. This day it is caressed by a blanket of cottony clouds of pale gray and white with hints of blue sky peeking through.

As I absorb the peace and calm of that which lays before me, the previously described holiday hustle and bustle fades and softens into whisps of sweet images of Christmases gone by, of moments as a child who gazed endlessly at the mesmerizing glow of the red and green and blue Christmas lightbulbs that surrounded our porch windows and filled our living-room tree, large old-school ones, not the small

twinkling lights of today. I drift into the memories of the awe I held as I contemplated the sweet faces of Mary and Joseph and the Christ Child of the church’s creche on Christmas Eve, later combing the night sky for a glimpse of Santa in his sleigh. The Spirit of Christmas, the true, foundational, and ever so simple point of it all, was a feeling deep inside. I know no other word to describe it but as Love.

All the faces of those who have gone before float by in my mind’s eye, my grandparents, my mom and dad, my brother, and most especially, my son, Eric. I see them opening gifts and smiling and I feel their joy radiating out all around them. I feel that pang of missing them and simultaneously enjoy their presence in my thoughts. 

And as all the lists and packages and gift cards of my day drift away into unimportance, I contemplate this feeling, this quiet, this…bliss…of all that has been, and I realize, a bit surprisingly, that all those people and experiences are with me still. They are all still a part of me. 

Yes, years have passed and times have changed. The shifting clouds remind me of that. As beautiful as they are in each moment, they do shift, they never stay exactly the same. Yet the beauty transforms into a new cloud formation, still containing the same droplets of water vapor. And in the same way, the love of all the Christmases past still flow into this Christmas today. The knowing of this truth settles me, grounds me, and reminds me of what matters most. It’s not all the doing, not all the buying, and certainly not the list. It’s the being in each little moment, each one shifting, each one exquisite, each one precious. With this renewed knowing I am reminded by someone in spirit very special to me to “look around.”

Inhale, exhale. I am restored, refreshed. I am grateful for this moment, this blessing. And even better is the knowing that it is always here for me. I don’t need to collapse under the pressures and expectations of the season. I can do whatever is do-able each day, I can focus on the lists and even enjoy some of the bustle, but I can also turn my focus from the purchasing of the Christmas tree to the trees outside my window, to the peace, the stillness, the love. And I can be reminded of all this as I take in the sweet faces of my children and husband who are right here with me, right in front of me, right now. That’s what matters most.

As I end my sit, my time of peace and contemplation, I set my journal on the UPS box next to me and get up. Yup, much more to do in the days ahead, lots of work, and lots of joy. But regardless of the outcome, all is well.

I hope you can find some of this same peace during this busy December, taking a moment to gaze at the trees outside your window, stepping outside to smell a rose, or leaning back to behold the endless sky above. You may get everything on your checklist done, but even if you don’t, I hope you recognize the joy within just like the Whos in Whoville did when they gathered in their town square and sang their hearts out even though the Grinch had stolen all their Christmas “stuff.” They knew it wasn’t the stuff, but it was something more. They knew what really mattered. That place of love that always resides within. Make time for it. Then share it with others. That is the true Christmas Spirit.

Happy Holidays.