Welcome, old friend! We’re glad you’re here, even with the changes

Christmas has come again, like a lifelong friend who won’t give up on you.

You’re glad to see her—full of laughter and happy memories and goodwill. She helps you believe the good she says she sees in you. But sometimes she expects more than you’re able to give, with demands for your attention and energy that leave you almost exhausted by the time she gets out of town.

And so you often have no choice but to pick and choose among all that Christmas wants from us, especially if you’re a caregiver.

Cutting back

My cutback this year was Christmas cards. I believe this is the first time in 49 years of marriage we haven’t sent them. I felt pretty good about the decision until the mail began bringing more and more of them every day starting sometime last week. As I opened another batch this weekend, I calculated what it would mean to renege on my resolve, but I decided to stick with my decision. (I am, however considering a New Year’s card!)

Do you see the dark spots?

I also thought about not lugging the eight-foot prelit tree up from the basement, along with two boxes of ornaments. But the whole family will be here, and our tree has always been beautiful.

It’s nice this year, too, but the one string that decided not to light is a problem. When I tested all the sections before I put the tree together, every single light burned brightly. They stayed lit while I placed all the ornaments and for two days afterward.

Then one morning, from the next room, out of the corner of my eye, I detected a flashing on and off and turned to see that one strand was actively dying. Soon the lights stopped flashing and went dark, and I knew, now that the tree was completely decorated, they were finished. (Death never comes when you want it.) The tree is in a corner. All the lights on the back of the tree are shining, but this dark strand is front and center. (You can’t choose your disappointments, either.)

Bright enough

As I’ve thought about that tree, I’ve decided it’s a symbol for my Christmas this year: nice, but not the way I would have wanted it. Bright enough to suffice, but not quite like the one we’ve enjoyed so many years in the past. At first glance there’s nothing wrong with it, but look longer, and you’ll soon see the dark spots.

You may notice a similar lack of luster in the right-hand picture of the two below. Evelyn and I posed Sunday in our church lobby, wearing outfits very similar to those for a Christmas picture (left) taken there 6 years ago. Compare the second picture with the first, and you’ll see that Evelyn is still as pretty as ever, but her smile is somehow not as bright. (And I’m looking a little tired, too).

But like our Christmas tree with the burned-out lights, this is the best we can do.

Rarely perfect

I don’t mean to whine, and I refuse to complain. I know about so many situations where sickness or some other loss is threatening Christmas brightness.

In fact, Christmas is rarely perfect for anyone. Financial limitations may curb generosity. Work responsibilities may threaten to intrude on holiday cheer. Family conflict is hard to avoid even if it is Christmas; in fact, sometimes the holiday makes old wounds hurt worse.

But even though burned-out lights may make us think in new ways about this old friend, one thing doesn’t change. For those who see Christmas as something more than merry-making or nostalgic cheer, Christmas can truly bring comfort. For those who not only remember a baby but also celebrate a Savior, Christmas never fails to offer hope.

Remembering faithfulness

Earlier, when I thought of writing a family Christmas letter this year, I decided to include lyrics from a worship song recently popular, titled “Same God.” It hearkens back to the birth mother of Jesus, with this prayer:

“I’m calling on the God of Mary
Whose favor rests upon the lowly
I know with You all things are possible.
I’m calling on the God of David
Who made a shepherd boy courageous
I may not face Goliath
But I’ve got my own giants.”

It repeats a refrain that brings me to tears whenever I hear it, because never in my life have I more deeply felt the truth of these words:

“O God, my God, I need You
O God, my God I need you now
How I need you now
O Rock O Rock of ages
I’m standing on Your faithfulness
On Your faithfulness.”

If I can stay there, standing on God’s faithfulness, I’ll be less likely to let Christmas disappointments push to despair. Mary’s God was with her through an incomprehensible birth because he loved her—and brought Jesus to us through her because he loves us! And the God who guided David hasn’t stopped helping anyone who trusts him for strength and nurture. It’s true even for caregivers—often weary, sometimes afraid, regularly frustrated—like me.

Christmas will be different this year, but old friends have the capacity to bend with the circumstances. And even with so much change in our lives, even more has stayed the same. I’m glad to welcome Christmas once again.