Don’t get me wrong, I have nothing against leaves. They’re beautiful in all their frond-ish,
billowy, colorful grandeur. I just
happen to like them better when they’re still on the trees.
So today, on this typical Texas winter (very unlike actual
winter) day after Christmas, I set out to soak up the mid-70s by raking up the
wreckage of Spring draped heavily on our struggling yard. I actually enjoy that annual rake, and this
year it’s helping me deal with the gloominess of the Holiday In-Between.
That’s actually a thing, I’ve decided. The Holiday In-Between – that week between
Christmas and New Year’s Day.
For my whole existence, I’ve carried a kind of subconscious melancholy
during those days for some reason. I was
sharing that with my husband this morning, and he said something like, “Really?
Huh?” which is a nicer way of saying, “I love you, but you’re kind of weird.”
I’ll own that.
You see, all while growing up, I would put up a tiny, wilted
plastic tree in my bedroom early in every Christmas season. I even had a whole box of my OWN ornaments
that were only to be used on that pitiful tiny tree. I was all about some Christmas! But once
December 26th hit, the tree came down.
Immediately. For some reason, I
couldn’t shake the feeling that it was just time to move on. As in, a brush-off-your-hands, “Well that’s
done. What’s next?” sort of feeling. Now, of course, we keep the tree up much longer
in our house, and, sure enough, inescapably, the day after Christmas sets that
strange limbo in motion in my heart.
I cannot seem to escape it.
I can’t even really describe it.
It’s definitely a sadness . . . well, sort of.
It’s like, from the day after Thanksgiving, all the world is
riding this glittery, tinsel-strewn wave into December 25th, a great
crescendo of shopping and wrapping and singing and baking and decorating and
giving and getting and joy to the world.
A Yuletide explosion of celebration! And then we crash.
And way on the other side of The In-Between, lies a shiny
New Year’s Day, which pretty much everyone agrees is the universal signal for a
ceremonial do-over; a crisp, white blank sheet of paper, resolutions and new
beginnings and excitement of getting up to brush ourselves off and try this
thing again. Head high, we march on,
ready and determined. On mission, y’all!
So I guess I just don’t know how to feel right now or how to
spend the days In-Between. I’m serious,
until the New Year dawns (God willing), I will carry an underlying stress, an
angst. It really is weird. And, just like every year, I will try to talk
myself out of it and cover it up with doing and being, but it will still rest
its wet blanket on my soul for those few days.
This is the first year I’m really trying to understand why. God is mysterious, and the way He programs
each of us is mysterious. I’m pretty
sure that not everyone feels this way (judging from the husband’s response), so
what’s up? What could this signal, and can it (or should it) be fixed?
I’ve got my figurative pen in hand, and I’m trying to sketch
out some parallels to eternal truth. Here’s
what I’ve got: Could this dreary cloud
just be a reminder of the greater limbo we live in – the “already and not yet”
of God’s Kingdom? Seems to fit,
maybe. We super cool modern folk exist
in the in-between of the culmination of God’s great redemptive plan: post-Messiah, but pre-All Things New
Eternity.
It’s limbo. And there
really is an ache, isn’t there? And that
eternal ache rears its head in the simplest, but most profound of ways.
This Holiday In-Between business is small potatoes compared
to the great Story, but maybe it’s a tiny echo of the real longing in the
hearts of man. I’m not sure, but I’ll
hold on to that possibility during the next few days. And, while I’m at it, it’s probably a good
idea to pray for joy and meaning and mission while trudging through this and all
the other In-Betweens throughout our time.
You know, I really do believe that, if we search for them,
we can hear those echoes of eternity lacing their way through our daily
grind. If we listen, if we measure them
by the Word and seek for them, I just know we’ll hear some holy whispers
bouncing off those mountains, the ones that don’t seem to be moving just
yet.
In the In-Betweens, let’s listen.
And maybe rake some leaves.
It’s good therapy.