Wednesday, November 4, 2009

"When Your Cup is Empty, You Can't Give Anyone Else a Drink."


Today I heard a woman say, "When your cup is empty, you can't give anyone else a drink." That statement resonated with me, especially as we move toward a busy time of the year.

Now that the calendar has turned to November I feel myself gearing up for the marathon that starts in a few weeks and lasts through January 2. I also find myself dreading all of the extras that bog down the holidays and take the focus away from what I really want to relish in. Things like being thankful and celebrating the birth of Jesus.

It seems I have a chronic, seasonal disease. I'll call it Empty Holiday Syndrome. The number one symptom of EHS is, as the name implies, a nagging sense of emptyness. The disease does not respond to the remedies we have been told will fill any void in our lives. For example, popular elixirs such as overeating, overflowing your shopping cart, pages long shopping lists, even longer wish lists, over indulgence in holiday cheer, and overspending just seem to exaggerate the symptoms.

The disease is highly contagious. No one in their right mind would sleep on the sidewalk all night just to be first in line for the chance to overpay for the lastest gizmo if they had not caught this dreadful disease somewhere. I've decided the best thing to do is stay in isolation. No risky trips to the mall for me.

In many ways, the annual Christmas shopping season is like any other sport season - highly competetive, not always the best example of sportsmanship and usually maintaining its intensity until the last buzzer sounds. I see others succumbing, and initially they do it with enthusiasm. Groups of friends calmor into cars and head to the store, eager to outshop and outspend each other. What starts off as a fun-lovin' shopping trip too often ends in a mountain of materialism that doesn't quite convey the message we truly hoped to send.

This year, I'm radically implementing a mostly "homemade Christmas" rule at our house. If you can't make it we won't take it. I'm writing a story for each of my four children. I'm also painting them pictures to hang in their rooms. They are busy thinking up things to make for each other. I've overheard some of their conversations and they're cooking up some real doozies. It should be fun; and far more meaningful than what they're selling at the mall.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not anti-Christmas present or Anti-Santa. Cashmere has brought me plenty of Christmas joy and the man in the red suit will surely slide down our chimney again this year. What I am opposed to is how easily we get wrapped up (pardon the pun) in the things that burden us during what really is "the most wonderful time of the year."

I remind myself, Son of God + Born in manger = Less is more. God showed us the power of keeping it simple. The true Christmas story should be more than enough to fill every wish, every need, every thing. When did we decide it wasn't? When did we make it about us? When did we become so detached from the importance and purity of the story that we feel physically empty, even ill? And why, why, why do we keep up this empty overindulgence year after year?

I am not an innocent observer of all of this. I'm more of a recovering addict. I can't tell you how many times the Christmas spirit has turned into sheer panic when the credit card bill arrived in January. How did it all add us so fast and did most of those "must haves" really matter at all? I've been the mom who wants her children to have piles of gifts. Funny thing is, most of the time what they've been given has been far more than they every hoped to recieve. And really, what are we giving them? Are we just passing on our own empty Christmas to the next generation? Come on, ladies. We know better than that.

Women typically carry most of the burden for the holiday planning, shopping, cooking, cleaning, and organizing. We are the ones who are most likely to feel that holiday overload has us running on empty. If the social pressures and brilliant marketing starts you down this path, remember, when your cup is empty, you can't give anyone else a drink. We are gearing up for the most magical season of the year. Our cup, no doubt, runneth over. We live in a world forever changed by a baby born in a barn. We don't need to dress up Christmas. There is simply no way to make the story anymore beautiful than it is.

Set a new tone for your Christmas this year. Step back, reconnect and regain control of this most important time. Prayerful celebration, loving anticipation, generosity that conveys love without overpowering the real message, and an earnest effort to simplify will bring more comfort and joy than any "things" possibly can.

Let's keep our cup full and share that sense of satisfaction with the people we love and care about. It's the best gift we can give them, and ourselves. Cheers!

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