Perplexed Perspective

I am a Christmas Nut! I plan gifts and decorations months in advance. I impulse buy all manner of red and green paraphernalia all year long. I have a Christmas Jam playlist - and yes, it even includes N'Sync's 1998 smash hit cd Home for Christmas.

Why is Christmas my FAVORITE time of the year? Duh, it's the Spirit.

It's the peer pressure that causes even the grumpiest of us to take a break from humbugness. It is the one time a year I can, publicly and acceptably, crank Joy to the World to the rafters in my car, roll down my window and get traffic singing along. The Christmas Spirit lifts the weight of the world for so many us. And even under the most dire of circumstances, Christmas makes us happy.

Of course this year, things are different.

As a mom, as a Christian, hell, as a human being, Friday, December 14 has shaken even my over-the-top Christmas Spirit. Friday, December 14 confused and worried me. It made me fearful and sad. And even though I've gone back to happily gifting my way through the season, every time I look at a news site or hear about a memorial service, that gray cloud of confusion floats back onto the horizon.

Like so many of us, I have hung on the news of who, when, why, how. I have soaked up the addresses and responses. I have read, with teary eyes, the poems and tributes written and circulated a hundred different ways. And I am still confused.

I am confused that this is evolving into a conversation about gun control.

I am not a fan of the NRA. I believe the Second Amendment was meant to staff militias that we haven't needed in this country in over 100 years.

I also don't think our government has the right to tell it's responsible, tax paying citizens that they can't own guns. However, surely we can all agree that this is not a case study in a responsible, tax paying citizen owning guns and going nuts with guns, can't we?

Can we not all agree to focus on the illness, rather than the symptom? Are we so blinded by our collective affluence-induced arrogance that we don't get how simple the problem is? I'll give you that I can be simple-minded and unrealistic on any given day, but...

Where is the perfectly simple morality that my parents made sure I got and held onto from kindergarten? Where are the simple rules that have been the foundation of every great society in the world for, well, ever since they were written? Where is the "Thou Shalt Not Kill" in all of this?

I believe that the reason God gave Moses the Ten Commandments is because it is in all of our nature, from the moment of original sin, to do the things that God eventually decided he needed to tell us not to do. I believe that at our basest nature, we might all kill to get what we want. Or steal to make our families safe or happy. God gave us these rules to save us from ourselves.

God recognized that letting our basest nature lead us didn't make for Merry Christmases. It leads to confused and sad holiday seasons.

As a mom, as a Christian, hell, as a human being, I am COMMITTED to making sure my kids understand these most basic of moral codes. They may not understand the Constitution or Gun Control Legislation, but they do and will understand God's Law for us. It's simple, clear and in ten bite-sized pieces.

Finally, I think the best honor I can give and the most healing activity I can perform, is to make this Christmas season about LOVE. Because there is no doubt that LOVE is bright, and healthy and healing. It bears fruits of Gratitude and Graciousness. It yields prayers of Thanksgiving for what we have and prayers of supplication for those that have not.

I will actively LOVE and appreciate those close to me. And I will pray that someone close to the families in Newtown LOVE them like Jesus would.

Gifting

It's Christmastime. The concept of gifting seems pretty clear and simple.

1. Ask/Listen for what loved ones want.
2. Go buy what loved ones want.
3. Wrap what loved ones want in pretty paper that matches your Christmas tree.
4. Gloat over the joy of opening Just What They Wanted on Christmas morning.

Only, it turns out the real gifting, true generosity, isn't really clear nor simple, nor about following the above formula. The true meaning of a real and significant gift, at Christmas or any other time, is as deep and involved as anything else we do for each other as humans.

Do you remember, really remember, the joy of finding something you didn't dare ask your parents for under your tree on Christmas morning from Santa? Because I am essentially a 10-year-old girl in a thirty-something year old body, I do. I remember the inability to squelch my high pitched scream when I first laid eyes on that Barbie Dream House.

When I was a child we were poor. We were blessed to never go without food or clothing or the basic creature comforts. But things like Barbie Dream Houses were way out of my league. Rich little girls in big brick houses got those types of gifts. And knowing that money was tight in our house, I would never have burdened my parents with my heart's desire.

But somehow, whether he and Jesus share secrets or he perfected spy cams long before the CIA, Santa knew. He knew that no matter how impractical, no matter how quickly I'd outgrow it, at that moment in my life, I needed a Barbie Dream House to feel special, important and loved.

Before and since that Christmas morning, I have always been a stickler for gifting. No cheating. You have to do the work and get the right gift. The perfect gift. And no guys, that doesn't necessarily mean the most expensive gift.

Here's what the Howard family will be focused on during this Christmas gifting season.

• Loving, and giving a gift to someone, is hard work.

You can't get gifting right if you're not examining your heart and theirs. Do you really know what your spouse is thinking about as you go into the holiday season? What is your mom most concerned about? What new hobby has your brother pawning his vintage Playboys to get money to fund? You don't have to be a mind reader. You just have to spend some time talking to your loved ones. And no, that can not be done via text or Facebook. Get close and get personal - you're likely to get a greater gift from this exercise than you end up giving.

• Great gifts don't necessarily cost more.

Yes, I am a woman and I don't think that all that glitters is gift worthy. I will always treasure the bracelet my son made me in my favorite color to go with my new favorite sweater more than the diamond bracelet my husband gave me. Don't get me wrong, I am thankful for both. But my son's gift was about he and I's relationship, him knowing my favorites. My husband's was about his responsibility to give a winning hubby gift.

• Just because they want something doesn't mean it's a great gift item.

On Christmas eve a couple of years ago, my husband was visibly upset. He was so proud of the gift he had ordered for me, only to have it not arrive in time for Christmas. The shipping company had messed up the order and it would be late. So imagine my excitement three days later when a big box arrived from FedEx with his name on it. I excitedly called him at work and asked if I could open it. He asked to stay on the line so he could here my reaction..."Um, honey, what is it?" - the first sign that your gift might not be a hit. It was the muffler for my four wheeler that I'd offhandedly mentioned months before that I wanted. I choked back my disappointment and thanked him. He knew he'd struck out. In his defense, he gets points for at least listening. Unfortunately, he wasn't listening with his heart or he wouldn't have given me a muffler as a gift. Men, vacuum cleaners, except for Roomba's because they're wicked awesome, dish washers and flannel robes all fall into this DON'T GIVE category of gifts.

• Joy is the point.

That's the only part of this that's simple. Your gift should elicit the Barbie Dream House kind of joy. The "OH! I would have never bought myself that in a thousand years" kind of joy. It is not the "Oh, I really needed one these" kind of joy. Because he really needs help this year, my stepson will get what he needs. But because I know their hearts so well and love them so much, all of my boys will get gifts given out of real love to elicit pure joy.

My mother-in-law got tickets to see an Elvis tribute show with her son and grandsons. She couldn't have gotten a better gift. Others in our family will get handmade or personalized gifts made and given with love. And some of us will even get an expensive item or two. Regardless of the price tag, we will be gifting with our hearts and investing in each other so deeply to make this our best Christmas ever.

After all, God didn't ask us for a list before sending his son. And while the price of his gift was the ultimate sacrifice, it was for the joy of our hearts that he gave it and wrapped it in a manger.

Christmas Makes Me Cry

Our house looks perfect. The ribbon in the living room matches the tree in the dining room and wreath on the front door. We have a new 8' snowman standing guard over our yard and a rather large Christmas sock monkey to keep him company. If you come to my house right now, it is clear I have this Christmas thing under control. Heck, my wrapping paper even matches my tree!

So with all of this togetherness, you may be surprised to learn that Christmas makes me cry.

That's right, from Christmas songs on the radio to the pageants and concerts at church, I spend most of the Christmas season weepy and teary-eyed.

I should preface this story with the fact that I am not Catholic. Nor is my heart for Mary based in religion, though I may have come to my understanding of her later than my Catholic friends.

My son was four month's old for his first Christmas in 2002. While as a first time mom I was consumed with cute Christmas outfits and pictures and perfect gifts, at some point I was hit with a deep conviction I had never experienced before. It brought me to sobbing tears and changed how I would see Christmas from that moment forward.

You see in my mind, the Christmas story had always been about God's gift to us - a celebration of gifting. I reserved deep thoughts on faith-focused topics like sacrifice and sorrow for the Easter season.

But this particular Christmas, for the first time, I experienced this season from the perspective of a mother to an infant son. I FELT Mary's heart. And Christmas took on a far deeper sense of sacrifice and sorrow than I ever imagined it could have.

When Hunter was born, the minute he was born in fact, I said a thousand prayers for his future. David and I were filled with all of the hope and happiness in the world. This little bundle of joy could do anything, be anything. He was Potential personified.

I imagined Mary, sitting cold, in pain, afraid and feeling pretty alone in the world, having a very different experience.

First, Mary officially gets the award for the bravest woman in all of history. She listened intently to angels - who by all accounts can be pretty intimidating. She told her fiance the truth of what she'd heard, even though she had to have thought he would have her hauled out and stoned. She got on a donkey and rode cross country, with no thought of shaken baby syndrome or accidental inducement. She just kept moving forward. I don't care who you are, that's incredible bravery.

But, more importantly, she moved forward and gave birth to and raised her little boy KNOWING. She had been told - there was no mystery or imaging in this birth. His path was clear. His life was going to be hard. And he would have to be incredibly brave himself.

I don't know about you, but if an angel had come to me before Hunter's birth and told me that my son would face any of the challenges he faces today, I'd have at least thought twice about bringing him into this world. If I had known for sure people would be mean, life would be too hard and circumstances wouldn't let him grow up to be whatever he wanted to be, I would have paused.

While the Easter season is a clear demonstration of painful sacrifice, I am completely overwhelmed at the Christmas season knowing that this time is a clear demonstration of courageous sacrifice.

Whether Mary knew how her son would die some 33 years later is unclear. As a mom, that thought is unbearable. But she knew enough to know that this child, her child, would be set apart in a way that couldn't be easy for any of them. And she quietly carried herself and her family through the rest of what would be one of the most beautifully tragic stories of all time.

So Christmas carols about a baby in a manger, or the first noel, make me cry. I thank God that my son was born a blank ball of potential and I don't have to bear the responsibility of KNOWING the way Mary did. And I grieve for a mother that had to make such brave choices and changes to let Love come into our world.

In our house, Christmas is as much about sacrifice now as it is about gifts. He may not understand why, but Hunter is compelled to sacrifice some of his gifts each year so that children less fortunate than he can know Christmas happiness too. We spend more time talking about what we will give away this holiday season than what we're getting. And I tear up. Because he won't have to wait until he has his own children to understand the amazing sacrifice in Jesus' birth that was made for him.