I hope it’s not too late to say this.
Be nice today.
Be nice at the return counter at Target.
No glaring at the clerks while you’re waiting to take your Christmas gifts back to Dillard’s or Walmart or Scheels.
The day is over.
And who is tired?
All those many, many people who have been on their feet waiting on you all this harried, frantic, sale-shopping, cart-stuffing, debt-inducing month and are back at work again today to help you spend your gift cards and trade your unicorn slippers for a bottle of wine.
Who else?
Parents, preachers, nurses, firefighters, teachers, cops. Everyone at Amazon. Mail carriers. UPS drivers. Mall Santas.
People are also reading…
Me.
You, probably.
I bet Mary was tired the day after Christmas, too.
I bet she didn’t rush out to hit the 75% off sale at the mall to get a jump on next year’s Christmas.
I bet she snuggled with her boy Jesus, made Joseph feed the donkey, told the wise men to return with something more practical.
So here’s to tired, overwhelmed moms today. Moms who can no longer rely on Elf on a Shelf for a few moments of peace. Kick the Christmas boxes to the side, My Dears, put your feet up. One foot at least.
Here’s to those who mourn, who are missing someone today and every day, the weight of holidays without a husband or a sister or a daughter or a parent. Here’s hoping Christmas held joy.
Here’s to hope.
I’m writing this before the big day, the morning of Christmas Eve, before the bustle of last-minute buying -- food and flowers and stocking stuffers to fill the empty spots.
Sometimes, Christmas feels empty, despite it all. It comes at you fast and then it’s over. So you try to slow down time and remember why you celebrate.
The birth of that baby.
Every Dec. 24, I sit in a pew at Redeemer Lutheran and listen to the Christmas story, Bible verse by Bible verse, hymn by hymn. I’m there with the wayward souls and the weekly faithful, my own faith tiny as a mustard seed, clinging to the idea of redemptive love in a broken world.
It’s hard not to feel the heaviness of that world right now and to be overwhelmed by it.
That’s why I keep photographs of babies in front of me. My own grown-up babies and their own growing babies. Lights of the world, every one.
Like all babies.
We claim to care about children and yet here we are, turning our eyes to their plight in ways big and small.
Jesus preached radical love. Love God. Love your neighbor (all of them, not just the family on the other side of the fence).
Love your enemies. (Democrats meet Republicans. Republicans meet Democrats. Can we get a Sign of the Peace, please?)
Christmas always reminds me that we have so far to go.
And may we start here, on the day after Christmas with our day-after-Christmas-shopping and a message from a friend who spent years standing behind a counter facing the public.
“Retail chips away at your faith in humanity until you have nothing left to give.â€
And so ends the reading of the Retail Gospel.
I’m not sure Santa’s still watching, but be nice today anyway.