The best way to spread Christmas cheer...

... or, How Many Pop Culture Christmas References Can I Make In One Post?

Am I the only one not really feeling the holiday spirit this year? Maybe my heart is two sizes too small.



Perhaps I'm a cotton-headed ninny-muuggins.



Or maybe because my Christmas tree - if you really want to call it that - looks more like Charlie Brown's



than Martha Stewart's



(not that I've ever had a tree that looked like Martha's, but... well, let me have my dreams). Or the fact that I've left most of my Christmas decor in boxes because it just seems like too much trouble to decorate my tiny little apartment. And yes, I know that Christmas is about more than trees and presents and decorations. But you try getting in the spirit without ornaments and lights, mmmkay?

I know. I have such a hard life. First-world problems and all.

But while we're talking about Christmas, let's talk about the main character: Santa (Ha! Thought I was gonna go all holy on you and say Jesus, didn'tcha? I'm sneaky like that). I have a confession to make. I love Santa. It's true. Now, I am not going to go all Brittany-from-Glee on you and tell you that I still believe in Santa. Actually, I don't remember ever believing in Santa. My parents were a little late to the party on that one and I am pretty sure I remember them trying to convince my enlightened and far-too-old-for-this seven year old self that Santa had left gifts for me. I was all, psh, puh-leez. I am too smart for this stuff. Fat man + chimney = bwahahahaha.



But I love Santa movies and elves and sleigh rides and the North Pole and smiling. Smiling's my favorite. There's just a feel-good charm about the whole thing. It's adorable and magical and there's plenty of room for imagination to run amok. And you know what? I've decided I'm a big believer in imagination. It's good for the soul. A little creativity never hurt anyone. We were wired to create, to wonder and to be thrilled by things. Let's run with that a little more, mmmkay? And Christmas is the most wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, wonderful time of the year to do that.



Now I have a few friends who are parents or about to be parents who are probably thinking about how to handle the Santa thing with their kids and to tell you the truth, I might feel differently about Santa if I was a mom. I'm not wild about letting my (fake) kid sit on a stranger's lap, tell him what they want for Christmas and then expect him to deliver on that. I don't know that I'd let them write letters addressed to the North Pole. I would definitely be emphasizing Christ in Christmas (I'm all holy like that, you know), but I also think that I would happily read them "'Twas the Night Before Christmas" and we would watch "Elf" every. single. day. between Thanksgiving and Christmas.



It's a cute story, really. A jolly old elf, flying reindeer, a magical sleigh with a sack bulging with presents. the naughty and nice list and a toy workshop. Adorable. Some people like wizards and Hogwarts and Narnia and lions and hobbits and rings and glittery vampires and russet werewolves (I mean really, people. Go back and read "New Moon" and count how many times the word "russet" is used to describe Jacob. Get a thesaurus, Stephanie Meyer. And with that, now you know one of my dirty little secrets. I read the whole freakin' series). I happen to like Santa. It's fantasy and whimsical and just plain fun.



So. There.

What puts you in the holiday spirit?

Entitlement

Happy Post-Thanksgiving!

Here's a math problem for you. All I did was make one batch of mashed potatoes, yet when all was said and done, I had four giant bowls soaking in sudsy water to get all of the potato-ness off of them, approximately 9,000 utensils scattered in the sink and took out two bags of trash in the last six hours.

How does that happen? If Rachael Ray or Martha Stewart ever need a replacement... don't call me.

But the potatoes... oh. my. word. They almost didn't make it to my aunt's for Thanksgiving because I may or may not have kept sneaking tastes. They are full of bad things. Heavy cream. Buttttah. Cream cheese. Don't look at me like that. It was a holiday. Go with it.

Annnnnyway, Thanksgiving. I feel like I won't be a good American unless I list all the things I'm thankful for, just like everyone else is doing. But that seems so... so... routine. Don't get me wrong, I am thankful for a lot of things. I understand the value of a grateful heart. But I'm wondering if I really know what thankfulness means.

I came across this Thanksgiving poem last week that just rubbed me the wrong way. It starts out like this:

Even though I clutch my blanket and growl when the alarm rings, thank
You, Lord, that I can hear. There are many who are deaf.

Even though I keep my eyes closed against the morning light as long
as possible, thank You, Lord, that I can see. Many are blind.

I think you can imagine why I found that a little offensive (!). The poem goes on to give thanks for things like family (because there are many who are lonely), food (because there are many who are hungry) and work (because there are many who don't have a job).

It's okay to be thankful for those things. But the motivation behind the gratitude in the poem is all wrong. Being thankful that you have something that someone else doesn't isn't really gratitude, but superiority.

The whole poem is really just one complaint after another. Paraphrased, it is basically saying something like:

"Poor me, I have to listen to my alarm shrill at me day after day, and I'm forced to leave my warm, cozy bed and work for The Man just so I can come home to crying children and a demanding spouse and burned toast in a modest house... but at least I'm not like those people! Even though I'm not really getting what I want, that's okay, because it could be so much worse."

Are we really that backwards that instead of truly being humbly thankful for what we do have, we're begrudgingly noting that at least someone else is worse off than we are? What we're really doing then is assuring ourselves that we're still awesome, that we've still got one up on everyone else. This isn't really a poem of Thanksgiving, but one of entitlement. It assumes that life should be free of restrictions and authority and cold and ruined food and illness and trials. That we are special and awesome enough to deserve a perfect life and have right to pitch a fit when it doesn't go our way.

I know this because I get behind the wheel of a car every day. I don't know what it is about driving that makes me act like a three year old, but it does. I mean, people are driving in my lane. What is up with that? I did not tell them they could be there. Why are they driving so slow? Don't they know that the speed limit thingy is just a suggestion? I have someplace to be and they are slowing me down and don't they know I will be late for work if they don't MOVE. IT.?! I act like I'm the only person on the highway who has schedule to keep. All of a sudden, everything becomes about me and my need to get somewhere and everyone who stands in my way is an enemy.

And the truth is that I live my life this way too. I don't know how to be thankful because I assume I'm entitled to live the way I want. It's hard to say "thank you" when you're distracted by the fact that your internet connection isn't fast enough or that the kitchen isn't big enough or the weekend isn't full enough. Then trying to fake an attitude of gratitude (cue cheesy sound effect) by mumbling, "Well, at least I'm not like that guy!" just doesn't cut it.

I think true thankfulness starts with humility, with recognizing who you really are (a sinner, not awesome and yucky), what you really deserve (wrath, hell and death) and what you got instead (grace, mercy and life). Only by breaking the illusion of entitlement will I really be thankful.

Which means I've got a long, loooooooong way to go.

And you were dead in the trespasses and sins in which you once walked, following the course of this world, following the prince of the power of the air, the spirit that is now at work in the sons of disobedience — among whom we all once lived in the passions of our flesh, carrying out the desires of the body and the mind, and were by nature children of wrath, like the rest of mankind.

But God, being rich in mercy, because of the great love with which he loved us, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ — by grace you have been saved — and raised us up with him and seated us with him in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness toward us in Christ Jesus. For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast. For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them. - Ephesians 2:1-10

If I could hear, would I...?

Note: I decided to go back to the old format for now. The reason I include Random Facts and In Other News is to show that I think, feel and do things just like everyone else. (The Hearing Aids part, obviously, is where it gets different.) Losing my hearing didn't mean losing me.

Random fact of the day: I love Hot Pockets (okay, Lean Pockets). My freezer is full of them. They were $1.79 at Target yesterday and I'm going back tomorrow to see if the sale price is still in effect. Nomnomnomnomnomnom. Oddly, though, I usually only have them for lunch. I feel like it would be taboo to have them for any other meal.

Hearing Aids: I think it's natural to wonder sometimes what it's like to be hearing. How does it feel to not have to look at someone to understand what they're saying? What does it sound like? How is it possible? But mostly, I wonder what I would be like if I was hearing. Would my personality be the same? Does hearing loss shape who I am as a person or does it not have any influence whatsoever?

I think it's somewhere in between. I can be kind of a ham. When I was in college, I got the normal jitters of having to give a speech or presentation in class but I got over it pretty quickly because I didn't mind talking in front of people. I won't say I looooove doing it, but I don't dread it like a lot of people seem to. And I could even have fun doing it - I like making people laugh and I always had a captive (eh, as captive as college students could be) audience. But I'm not always like that day to day. I stay quiet more than I'd like to because in a group, there's always that chance that the topic isn't what I think it is and chiming in with an opinion on Fox News when everyone else is talking about Team Coco is pretty embarrassing. I also don't speak up because, depending on the size of the group, I'm not sure if someone else is talking and I might be interrupting. So I'd rather just not say as much. Now sometimes I do have good days. I don't know what makes them "good." Maybe I slept really well the night before and have more energy to focus on what's going around me. Maybe new hearing aid batteries make more of a difference than I realize. Maybe everyone is just talking extra clearly. I don't know. But I do have good days where I can keep up, I can contribute, I can participate and ham it up. Some days are a mixture of both... silence and joining in.

When I'm in a group of people, I always assume there's information I'm not getting, which is what keeps me from speaking up. Did someone change the subject? Who just said what? Did they say "is" or "isn't"? Little nuances like that can drastically change my level of understanding of what's going on. And because I pretty much live in a constant state of assuming there's something I'm missing, I think this spills over into other, non-hearing-related issues. For instance, I like to think I'm quicker to give people the benefit of the doubt. If someone snaps at me for no reason, I assume there is information I don't have about why they are acting like that and that are other things going on in their life. On the other hand, I am pretty quick to assume that people are out to get me (in the sense of be rude to me, not out to get me, Jack Bauer-style) more often than not. Is that my regular personality (to take something personally) and losing my hearing has influenced that and made me a little more patient than I would normally be?

On the flip side, I have a hard time trusting people, precisely because I always assume there's information I'm not getting. Even when people pay me compliments or are nice to me or encourage me, I think a little part of me is just waiting for the other shoe to drop, to grasp that one piece of information I didn't have in the first place.

I really love to help people but sometimes I feel like that's a stifled desire. I remember when two (of three) of my college roommates were running around like crazy trying to pack up before graduation. I had finished most of my packing and, empathizing with the task before them, asked if there was anything I could do. They both said no, packing's really only of those things only the packer can do. Totally understandable. But then I felt frustrated when the third roommate was able to jump in and help them because she could hear them muttering, "Where's my brush?" or asking each other "Have you seen my shoes?" But I couldn't pick up on that, so I couldn't help. And I felt like I couldn't be part of their final time at college. I couldn't have those last few minutes with them as roommates. And I think sometimes it's not so much that I want to help as it is that I want to be part of people's lives and helping is a natural way to do that. Now I'm hesitant (though not for lack of desire) to pitch in because, once again, I worry that there's something I don't know. When I was in high school, I was in a play and part of the requirement was to participate in set construction. So I was helping these girls paint a piece of the set. Without warning, they left, but no one told me anything so I just kept painting. One of them came back and incredulously asked, "What are you doing?!" Looking back, I have no idea what happened or what I was doing wrong. I just remember feeling like I was doing something I was not supposed to be doing. So anyway, would I be more willing to help people if I didn't wear hearing aids?

I am one of the laziest people I know, even though I note that I feel much better when I keep active. I'd much rather go home after work and not move from the couch all evening. I don't make a lot of effort to seek other people out. I'm exhausted, man. I've spent all day trying to keep up with my co-workers, ignore the buzz of the office (confession: sometimes I just turn off my hearing aids altogether), constantly on edge when someone walks by and wondering if I'll be engaged in conversation. So by the time I get home, I don't want to do anything. I don't want to go to the grocery store and wonder about announcements. I don't want to go shopping and worry about the cashier with the accent. I don't want to try and meet someone for coffee because the cafe will be loud. Would I have more get-up-and-go if I could hear?

Finally, when I read back through these anecdotes, I see one thing in common: fear. I'm afraid of doing the wrong thing. I'm afraid of being embarrassed. I'm afraid I will (unintentionally) hurt someone's feelings by saying the wrong thing. And so on. I don't know that those fears will ever completely go away but I have to decide not to let them rule my life. Taking risks - now that's a good lesson to learn from hearing loss. Sometimes you just have to step out there and do things you're not sure are okay.

In other news: I finally took my ornaments off of my Christmas tree!! Now I just have to put the Christmas tree away. Baby steps. It's not that I've had a hard time letting go of Christmas... I'm just lazy like that. ;) Now, onto Valentine cheer!