The Spirit of the Season


If you are like me, then getting into the Christmas spirit seems more difficult each year. 

Yes, I am getting older, and sometimes find myself having to confront the fact that I am becoming what I never thought I would become.... 

Crotchety (never had to spell that before), a Killjoy, Old Fashioned. 

But I am certainly within my right to blame the commercialism of the holidays, crowded malls, Black Friday, Cyber Monday, Yellow Wednesday, and Santas in all shapes and sizes, and ages. Not to mention the new Christmas light thingy that projects images of colored snowflakes and such on houses, trees, and whatever else. I think it upsets me that those people took 6 minutes to put up lights, while it takes me the better part of a whole Saturday. 

So, how does a guy like me finally get into the spirit of the season? Well, it goes like this.... 

This little church we serve in the south suburbs of Denver has a tradition that started several ago. It began rather unassumingly. But now, I'm not sure the holidays can ever be the same without it. 

This raggamuffin group meets at a local nursing home, specializing in memory care. And, with voices of all volumes, abilities, and tones, we sing. We sing Christmas carols for an hour. Fathers and mothers, sons and daughters, we deliver the gift of song and music to a population who desperately needs their own boost of spirit. 

And let me say, it is magical. The Spirit of the season shows his face in these precious moments. And there is transcendence into a realm that you must see and feel to appreciate. 

Our congregation in these hours is made up of many folks who are struggling with horrible debilitations; robbed of their memories, the names of their loved ones, and in some cases their mobility. They are weak, and often expressionless. And some are wandering the halls unsure of what or who they are looking for. 

And then we be begin to sing... 

Away in a Manger. O Holy Night. What Child is This? Silent Night. 

The Spirit of the season fills the room. And folks who cannot remember what they had for breakfast are singing along.
For many, they know. They remember. For 60, 70, or 80 years these songs have meant the holidays are here. Some sing with joy, some just whisper the words. And when we sing Jingle Bells, well...let's just say the room lights up and the child in every one of us comes out. 

This year, I cannot get one gentleman out of my head. For an hour, he never moved. His face never changed expression. But we could know he was with us because he was tapping his feet, in tune to every song. 

And then, after Silent Night, he showed us another sign. It wasn't a smile. It wasn't a word, nor a gesture. 

He took off his glasses and wiped his tears. 

By then, I am now in the Spirit of the season, to stay. Because everything I abhor about the holidays melts away. And I am just thankful. Thankful for life, for my children, for my health, for my friends. And I am thankful because Jesus was borne in Bethlehem as a gift both to me and to that man who was moved to tears by the words, "sleep in heavenly peace," and "for Christ the Savior is borne." 

Please feel free to share what gets you in the spirit, and maybe those of us who have a tougher time can be inspired by your story. 

And have a Merry Christmas!


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