“Shop, shop, shop” is the mantra blaring at us throughout the holiday season. But I am not drawn to the traffic-packed mall and the big box stores (except Hobby Lobby and Home Goods) on the south side of Eau Claire, where locals shop in droves in the weekends preceding Christmas. Instead, I’ve been mildly addicted to a documentary video of German Christmas markets (titled, ungrammatically, “Germany Christmas Explore”) on Prime Video.
It’s visually rich, thousands of lights and evergreen boughs draped across ornate stalls selling toys and décor and woodworked crafts and pastries (and wursts, lots of wursts) and many other things. There’s a vintage carousel at the Rathausmarkt in Hamburg, the first stop; the lighting is gently filtered and best of all, quiet Christmas carols play in lieu of the real-life din. I find the overall effect rather hypnotizing, like a tiny, beautiful Christmas village sprung to life.
Contrast that with reality. During ad breaks, Amazon peddles myriad products and techy gadgets (with that “helpful” button that, with the accidental mishandling of your remote, places it directly in your shopping cart). You get a few moments of relaxation, watching a Christmas movie or whatever, before “shop, shop, shop” is back in your face. I feel my stress levels rise just thinking about it.
We are all drawn to beauty. It’s the reason my 4-year-old daughter insists on wearing her pink princess dress nearly every day. It’s the reason my sons take great pride in their (admittedly shaky, wonky and somewhat gaudy) bedroom Christmas trees. Being bathed in beauty (and also chocolate) is the best part of the season. The question is, how do we bring more of the beauty, depth and richness, and less of the “shop, shop, shop,” to our homes during this brief season?
I received a complimentary copy of Megan Alexander’s “The True Gifts of Christmas” (Loyola Press) in October – in it, she anchors Christmas traditions to their Christian origins, reflecting on how “The evergreen, with its always-green needles, reminds us of our everlasting love of God, even in the dead of whatever ‘winter’ of our lives we might be going through,” and “The growth cycle of the poinsettia, with its dormant phase followed by a seemingly impossible reflowering, metaphorically reflects the death and resurrection of Christ.”
Organized into a 25-day Advent calendar of the season’s gifts – tinsel is the Gift of Joy, gingerbread cookies are the Gift of Warmth, candles are the Gift of Light, etc. – the book offers suggestions for families looking to incorporate traditions that keep the focus off the Christmas gift wish-list. Her ideas include placing lit LED candles near photos of late loved ones, hanging holy cards as ornaments, hosting a Twelve Days of Christmas party and holding a candy cane hunt (Sprinkle candy canes all over the lawn, then invite kids to hunt for them with flashlights after dark).
It’s a pretty coffee table tome, which I appreciate, but also an annual reminder to celebrate Advent instead of charging madly toward the Christmas finish line. I was thinking, as I paged through it, that I really should leave a Christmas stocking for our 60-something bachelor farmer neighbor – why do we simply give him a bottle of wine and a card (when we remember, I am ashamed to admit), when I know he likes baked goods and prefers beer? Why don’t we make more effort to greet him face-to-face during the holidays?
I think that’s the value of pausing and taking our time in this holy season – “Waiting Well,” as Aly Aleigha’s new song goes. It’s a chance to embrace intentionality in our preparations, thereby dodging the mindless, blurry whirlwind that can otherwise engulf us.
A blessed Advent and a merry Christmas!
