I was in 7th or 8th grade. It was a couple of years after I learned the truth about Santa Claus, but a couple of years before I got a job and people started expecting adult-type things from me. The Christmas season flooded in with a gust of cold wind and snow, as it always seems to do in the north. On the other side of Thanksgiving, the advent season had long been full of making wish-lists, snowball fights, singing carols, and eating as many candy canes as I could handle. The month of December was marked day-by-day by sweet treats and the countdown for that mound of presents on Christmas morning. Even once I learned that it was my sneaky parents who stacked those gifts, I still found joy in helping my younger brother set out milk and cookies and weaving the tale of Christmas adventure.
But on this particular year, in the midst of my junior high years, something changed. Suddenly, December was the month of the Christmas dance, and all my concerns were wrapped around finding the perfect dress and deciding what boys I might like to dance with. Instead of family gatherings with ham and mashed potatoes, I wanted to go to Starbucks with my friends and drink hot cocoa with peppermint crumbles on it. Instead of toys and games, I hoped for clothes and make up and things that would make me cool. I loathed the idea of holing up with my family for even 24 hours of Christmas. Suddenly my parents and Santa Claus weren't cute bearers of Christmas joy but were rather deceptive, out-of-touch old people who told the same stupid story every year. The same was suddenly true of my church: the same old Christmas carols were getting boring; the quiet dark Christmas eve service made me sleepy and bored; I couldn't handle anymore versions of O Holy Night, bad or good.
And the stories of Christmas were old and quite frankly full of plot holes. There are millions of small children; it's utterly impossible for Santa to visit all of them in one night, magic or not. And isn't it creepy that Santa knows what you're up to - doesn't this crack-pot old fool have better things to do with his time than to spy on little children? Even the story of Jesus' birth had lost its luster for me. I felt bad for Mary, being as young and alone as she was. Giving birth to the savior seemed like a lot to ask of one person, especially a young girl. With raging hormones and knowledge of sexually active teens around me, the idea that Mary was really a virgin was suddenly difficult for me to believe.
Suddenly, Christmas wasn't my main event the way it once had been. I became a wallflower at Christmas events, at church and at home. I watched the young kids squeal with glee at the snowflakes and the cookies and the elves; I watched the adults sigh contentedly at the repetition of Christmas traditions. But I didn't have a place myself. It was as though I were observing Christmas as it swirled around inside a snow-globe, but I could not get inside, I could not embrace the joy or the magic as I once had.
It came with out ribbons, it came without tags, it came without packages, boxes, or bags...and it came in spite of teenage angst...
In spite of the angst I brought to the Advent season, I managed to enjoy some things at Christmas as a teenager. We got our first family computer when I was in 9th grade, and my brother and I created Paint art on it all of Christmas day (until we ran out of ink in the new printer...which at the time was about an hour). I got the professional wooden clarinet I had asked for, which I used for college auditions and honors band and recitals; I cherished that gift. I began baking the Christmas dessert, which was a chance for me to experiment with new recipes in the kitchen. In fact, Christmas came whether I was annoyed about it or not, and it brought with it an undeniable happiness, even when I tried with all my might to dislike it.
I wish I could say that my discomfort with Christmas was something I grew out of quickly, but it has taken some time. As I grew older, I began to work in retail during the holiday season, which was exhausting and disheartening. Family began to ask questions about colleges and majors and offering their own opinions about where I should end up, something that made me cringe with anxiety. When I came home for the holidays during my time in college, the questions were all about when I would get married and what job I would have and how much weight I had gained or lost. It can be difficult to be fussed over in that time, when you are transitioning and you don't have answers and people want to advise you on things when they don't know half of what you've gone through.
When I graduated from college and entered true adulthood, I came back to loving Christmas. I find such great joy in our traditions, especially at church. I love to cook and bake and invite people over for gatherings. I get great joy in selecting gifts for people to enjoy, and having a few days off is a delightful respite in this dark time of year.
I'm guessing you might have a teenager at home experiencing some Christmas angst. It is very difficult for teenagers to find a place in the holiday season. There comes a point when the stories feel old and the magic feels stale; there comes a point when they feel they've been lied to about Santa Claus and may question the truth of Jesus. They are not yet adults; they haven't yet figured out their personal joy in the holiday season. They might retreat to a place of quiet and distance, becoming a wallflower to Christmas joy and festivity.
How to deal with your teenage Grinches...
I think the first thing about teenage grinchy-ness is that we need to acknowledge that it exists and it is normal. All too often I find that we lump teenagers either with the mystic crazy children who are frantically looking for Elf on the Shelf and wake up at 6am to open presents or with adults who give gifts and enjoy "O Holy Night."
It is truly OK for the Christmas season to lose some of its magic so that teenagers can deconstruct their experiences and reconstruct their future love and joy from Christ's birth. It's a bit like the story of Joseph in Matthew. At first we are told the good part of the story: Mary is going to have a baby through the Holy Spirit and that child will be the Son of God and the savior of the world. Then we learn that Joseph was a bit skeptical and had planned to dismiss Mary quietly and move on with his life. Joseph asks the difficult, cynical questions: "How did this happen?" "Why do I have to be involved?" "What's the point?" And only God can and does provide Joseph with the kinds of answers he longed for. Only God can and will provide answers for our youth: "How does this happen?" "Why do I have to feel joy at Christmastime?" "Where do I fit in the Christmas story?" "Why do we do this?"
The second thing about teenage grinchy-ness is that it is a front. It's likely that you won't immediately figure out whether your teenager is truly angsty about Christmas or still enjoying certain parts because it is simply not cool to be overly joyous about anything that involves the entire family getting together. Students might say things they don't fully mean or ask challenging questions to test the limits of Christmas and see what it is we believe. When we get angry or bitter toward our teenagers, we aren't helping them to discover a deeper joy for Christmas; rather, we are helping them to discover a deeper grinchy spirit. We perpetuate the confusion for them that they are no longer children but are not yet adults.
Third, we know that our youth look to us to be examples of how we behave and act. When our students see us give of our time and money for charitable causes and church events at Christmastime, they learn that these activities bring us joy and peace. When our students see us joyfully retelling the story and happily singing Christmas hymns, they know that the old story has meaning. When our students see us mourning family members no longer with us at Christmas, they know that family is an important part of the holiday and is something to be cherished even after death.
Contrarily, when our students see us stressed to the point of panic over ribbons and boxes and middle-of-the-night deals, they understand that Christmas requires a loss of sanity and relational value. When they see us spend hours on Christmas cookies but seconds on advent devotionals, they understand that the true meaning of Christmas can be found in material things. When they see us bored and tired with the advent wreath or the Christmas Eve service, they learn that the church's concept of Christmas is boring and tired.
And so I challenge us this day to invite Christ to come to us this Advent season in a new way, in a vibrant and vital way, in a way that blows our minds and changes our lives, so that we might witness to Christ's birth throughout the Christmas season and the year.
Some helpful links...
No comments:
Post a Comment