(edited three times; final draft 12/19)
twinkly lights, christmas songs, santa claus, wintery wonderylands, sleigh bells, mistletoe, shopping malls, holiday sales, bows and ribbons, presents, decorations, trees, wreaths, little elves--- bah humbug. this year i could do without them all. i've been asked many times about what i want for christmas, and i don't have an answer. i want to just forget it all this year.
this year i can only see the materialism, commercialism, self-absorbed consumerism, selfish ethnocentric arrogance, and a preoccupation with a gluttonous, ravenous, excessive desire for
things. i decorate the house every year with garland and candles and a door wreath, i buy a real tree; but this year there is only an advent wreath my roommate made and a fake christmas tree that stands in the corner decorated solely with silly string and marshmallows (long story). i want to sell everything and get rid of all the waste that just takes up space.
this year i can only think of something we discussed at the church i attend now-- advent as a little lent, a time of repentance. i see the depth of fallenness within me and the world around me. i sting with disappointed hope. melancholy creeps in and i respond by wallowing in it. depression calls for fire and heaven to make its claim on this earth.
this year i feel deeply alone. i am about to lose the best roommate i have ever had (a dear friend) to politics and red tape. my singleness feels highlighted by glaring, flashing marquees as those nearest and dearest celebrate with a significant one. i celebrate for them and with them though my heart is cognizant of its longing to be loved.
so, this year, i buy less for others and require less from others. so this year, i repent and confess, forgive, offer grace. so this year, i try and hold my head up knowing i was made to love and appreciate those who have shown love to me.
the advent lament does end. i've been playing jeff buckley's 'hallelujah' all afternoon weeping over brokenness and my own broken-ness. ah, but... there
is reason to hallelujah. it may be a weak one right now, but it's a hallelujah.
(i've changed this blog three times. i want to be true and honest to how i was feeling but remain hopeful. but i know there is reason to hope. i cannot deny it though circumstances cloud it. like, for example, there is anticipation. and there is redemption. there is a remembrance that glory fell, grace came, and the heavenlies descended to the dirtiest, grimiest places among the broken. two arms, two legs, two eyes, placenta, and a cry; and love, made perfect, takes his mother's breast in a bittersweet embrace. this is what frees the soul from being eternally locked in a monotonous, drab existence. radiohead- no surprises- shows a resignation to life as it is, an empty happiness. believe me, there are many things i can find joy in and over. but without some kind of saving grace, it is all truly meaningless.)
2006 Yellowstone National Park by micah holcombe