The Spectrum of Christmas

For me, Christmas is a complicated holiday. I can't see it as a monolithic event with one meaning and one path, but as a spectrum that overlies time. A rainbow that covers that part of my mind and heart that assigns meaning and significance to thoughts and constantly shifts and replaces its colors for those it pulls from the connections of my memory..

I can't think about Christmas without including and sampling little slices of all the Christmasses I've contacted before, real or imaged. All the movies and songs, good and bad. All the Hallmark sentiments, sincere and convenient. All the times, as a child, I sat on the hard pew of a church or a folding chair in a church basement watching a flannelgraph presentation of the Christmas story from the King James Version of the Bible. Hearing words that I accepted without understanding. When going to church on Christmas meant I would get to hold a small lit candle stuck through a paper disk by myself for a little while and and sing.

All the Christmasses as a kid when the decorated tree represented a place where beautiful wrapped boxes that could contain absolutely anything lay waiting for their moment on the morning of the day. The big drop that inevitably came after the day that pulled the color from everything for a week or two. Everyone walking around in a dulled, broken step silently keeping an eye out for something to replace the feeling they had for the time leading up to the big day. Something that could bolster their minds and make them feel like they belonged to a larger group than themselves. A family that stretched way beyond their puny range of vision.

Enough of this. Of course, I'm not forgetting "the true meaning of Christmas" made famous and repeated in every Christmas story plugged on TV. The reason for the season. My jury is out on that. I've heard the story of the miracles and the way He touches the heart but I've also seen more than I can forget about the wrecks along the side of the road on the way. I cannot deny the existence of a God but I also can't take on faith that he even knows we exist. The site of a little boy standing at the pinball machine pushing the buttons and believing that he is making the lights and noise happen keeps coming back to me.

Desperation and fear will always bring prays and pleading. Like everybody else out there, I'd like for there to be someone one the other end of the phone, But it remains a bit of faith that I don't have. Yet,

More later,