We're gonna get through this, Charlie Brown.

Last night Trent and I sat down with Lillian and watched the Charlie Brown Christmas Special. We had this plan that if she could sit through 25 minutes of Charlie, she might be able to get through a viewing of "The Princess and the Frog" in a real, live theatre.

Yeah, that is not going to be happening any time soon. She was good for about 7 minutes. Then she sort of ran around in circles and climbed on our laps and poked Trent in the eye with her finger and tore all the DVDs off the shelf. A typical 20 minutes in the life of Lillian. We loved it; we also decided she's probably not ready for the movie theatre just yet.

In any case, as we watched Charlie Brown trudging through the snow with Linus, his comments struck a familiar chord. As they walk to the ice skating pond, Charlie confesses to Linus that sometimes Christmas depresses him. He loves getting cards and presents and all, but something about the season is just a little unsettling. For the next 25 minutes, Charlie Brown fights commercialism and sadness and his friends' jeers regarding his sad little tree. Fortunately, Charlie Brown turns out okay in the end. And, for the most part regarding the holidays, so did I.

Once upon a time, though, when Christmas rolled around, I felt a lot like Charlie Brown. A typical Christmas moment from my past might illustrate my point: I was driving in my car through a particularly barren desert landscape. The only radio station I could get service for was playing some sort of crazy country-western Dolly Parton version of an overworked Christmas song. Hot, angry tears sprang from my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as I fumed over the more shallow, materialistic, and lonely aspects of the Holidays.

Whew. Just typing that made me remember my personal aptitude for drama. Nice. I am a country song myself, I think.

Drivin' down this long lonely road
With nothin' but Dolly to keep me companeee
Feelin' said about the sadness of the season
And that no one but my cat cares about meeeeee.

Anyway.

What is it, exactly, about the holidays, that can send one who is teetering on the edge of frustration into a freefall of doom and gloom? Is it expectation of what you think the holidays should look like, and the recognition that they don't quite turn out how you plan? Is it a lack of focus on the things that matter most? Is it that Christmas time shows some people what they don't have, instead of reminding them what they do?

I don't know. I do know that as the years have passed, the sadness I used to feel at Christmas time has gradually been replaced by calm and and peace. Aspects of the holidays that used to bother me (like when radio stations do 24-7 of Christmas carols starting the day after Halloween. And dont even get me started on that emotionally manipulative song "The Christmas Shoes.") are now fodder for a lot of laughter. And the aspects of Christmas that do seem to matter most: family, friends, giving to others, and reflecting on my faith and blessings seem to grow yearly in poignancy and meaning.

This Christmas season has seemed particularly pleasant. I don't know why. It dawned on Trent and I about 2 days ago that we hadn't done one special thing for Christmas--by special I mean our usual Christmas activities like going to see a performance of The Nutcracker or Handel's Messiah, or the night we went to hear Compline. In fact, this year we've wholly neglected our Christmas traditions, our Christmas cards are going to be a week late (just so you know), and we've spent the last 5 days with the stomach flu.

Even still. I've loved Christmas this year. It's felt magical. It's felt wonderful. From the outside looking in, not much has changed. But, like the Grinch, I think my Christmas heart has grown a size or two. And as it has grown, I've found the magic of the season working on me in the simplest of moments.

I've felt the Christmas spirit as I've danced with Lillian in the sunroom to Mel Torme crooning "Chestnuts roasting on an open fire..." spinning and twirling and bobbing our heads to the classic music.

I've felt the Christmas spirit as I've scotch-taped Christmas cards to our kitchen door, remembrances from those whom we love and miss with all our hearts.

I've felt the Christmas spirit as I watched out my window eagerly to see our garbage man and postman find the plate of cookies we left for them.

And I've felt it almost daily as I drive home from seminary around 7 am. It's still dark outside but there's a glow of warmth coming from the homes in our neighborhood. It's quiet, peaceful, and still. Christmas music fills my car as it pulls into my driveway. I enter silently and crawl back into bed. Trent stirs, asks, "how did it go?" and then wraps his arms around me to chase away the cold I've brought. I've laid there with my eyes closed wishing I could freeze the moment forever.

Christmas can be crazy. It can also be wonderful. I think it has a little less to do with the extrinsic things we do and more with what we allow to come into our hearts.

I hope your Holidays are all you need them to be.