1.24.2009

christmas

Prologue: Mone told me she saw fake Christmas trees on sale for 600,000-800,000 tugruk which is around $550-$750. Real trees don’t even cost that much. Maybe a few feet of the Rockafeller Center tree…but not ones that can actually fit through your front door.

There are certain traditions kept by me at Christmas that this year I’ve had to pass over. They are quite childish so I’m a little embarrassed to document them publicly. But for the sake of the holiday, I’ll let you in on some of my favorites: 1. Often I will count each present under the tree and organize them according to size so the largest are in the back and the smallest are in the front. 2. If there happen to be siblings spending the night (now that we’re older and out of the house), it is my job to wake them up…early. Coffee has helped enormously in this area. 3. It is then our duty to stand at the end of the hallway leading to our parent’s room and count to three before breaking into a sprint, exploding through their door, and leaping onto their bed to wake them up with a good dose of Christmas spirit.

Now at 25, I will spend Christmas 13 hours ahead of my family, 5,000 miles away in Mongolia. So this got me thinking. And I have a confession to make: nothing I love about the Christmas season has to do with Jesus.

I don’t like writing that. I hate admitting it. But it’s true. So much of this season for me is wrapped up in the past and good memories and traditions. Jesus is actually quite absent from it all apart from Christmas Eve services. I live Christmas out in feelings and memories and traditions. Those things are not bad, but they are empty (which is hard to accept) in light of the incredible reality of Jesus’ birth.

I suppose around middle school something about Christmas changed. Middle school is such an awkward time for many reasons and it’s made worse because parts of you are still a kid but parts of you are growing up. The kid-parts of me still cherished the magic I found in Christmas. The growing up-parts of me suspected there was more to the holiday than the kid-parts of me clung to. There was a mish mash of feelings I didn’t know what to do with as an 11 year old so I just decided to do what was normal for me during the holiday – I reverted to silly habits and put all Christmas’ worth in a small box labeled ‘Xmas Decorations.’ I tried to convince myself that nothing changed and I could live quite happily in illusion.

But this year, my grown up-parts must have gotten sick of doing all that. Why settle for illusion, Alissa, when a grand miracle is staring at you from a baby’s face? God’s face.

I don’t know. I still love to bake cookies and listen to my Twisted Sister Christmas album and wrap presents and jump on my parent’s bed. Those things are still a very large part of Christmas for me. But they are not its purpose. And I have to learn how to celebrate Christmas in that reality.

So at 25, 13 hours ahead and 5,000 miles away, I’m unpacking the small box labeled ‘Xmas Decorations’ and following a star and seeking God’s face.

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