Taking down the Christmas Tree, packing away the ornaments in their respective storage boxes, and putting away all the Christmas decorations for another year is a very difficult day. First of all, IT TAKES A WHOLE DAY and sometimes spills over to the better part of the next…even without procrastination. Second, it is an emotionally taxing time. It is hard to face January after the emotional richness that attends December.
I am aware of the ubiquitous and preachy message (have even given some) that we should not ‘put away Christmas’ but instead be actively keeping Christmas all year. OK. I get it. But, the reality is that the tree, the trimmings, all the Christmas treasures collected over the years very much need to come down. The manger scene needs to be packed away.
Indeed, I am all for keeping the Christmas spirit all year. But such spirit-keeping is aspirational. The reality of 31 days of January with the first of those January days necessitating the packing away of the outward and visible signs of Christmas takes its toll.
This emotional toll is annual. But now, it seems, so are Covid variants along with unrelenting, global warming enhanced disasters and all manner of polarizing, political change. Aspirational Christmas spirit-keeping is even more, well…aspirational.
But in spite of it all and nevertheless, there are several things which I think about each year on the early January days when another Christmas gets packed away.
First, I very much like to remember that even Joseph and Mary had to be about the days after Christmas reality of changing the swaddling clothes on the baby – now often noisily restless – and lying in the manger.
There are no stories about that effort. There were no stories of shepherds stopping by to visit and see that not-so-holy-night reality which had come to occur in a city called Bethlehem. There are no stories of angels singing to accompany breast feeding time, either. Indeed, Mary was on her own. Just like we can feel we are alone with our thoughts or realities of January as the boxes get put in the attic, garage, or storage closet.
Second, I very much like to remember that after the Christmas story and Jesus’ subsequent not-so-silent-night of a circumcision moment, (there has never been much preaching on this event) the daily grind of life for the holy family and the growing up of Jesus is unmentioned.
With the possible exception of Luke’s stand-alone story of the pre-teen Jesus terrifying his parents as Jesus skips the family caravan and hangs out with temple elders, for the next 30ish years, Joseph, Mary, and Jesus are of absolutely no note or interest.
I like to remember these long, unrecognized years of holy family living and getting on while trying to get the Christmas boxes stored way in the storage space; a space which has somehow grown decidedly smaller since I hauled the boxes out just four weeks before.
In addition to such thoughts while putting away Christmas, I also like to remember the high moments of fun, laughter, and getting together over dinner and low-calorie desserts (not) experienced amidst the decorations now being put away. I like to think of the ghosts of Christmas Past and Present who, when called to mind, visit me as I jostle a box into its seasonal resting place. And I like to think about the promise – not the ghost – of Christmas Future.
Christmas, in spite of Covid, mid-term elections, and all manner of yet unknown things or personal life realities, will come again. Love will come down at Christmas. It will find me. It will find us. And at the manger, once again, we will find strength, courage, and PURPOSE in living our lives as they come to us.
Jesus will always be – in January or in any season – Immanuel. You just cannot pack that truth away.