The Speed of Christmas

Another Christmas when it scarcely feels like Christmas.

When I was growing up I remember Christmas as this magical time that seemed to go on forever, extending from Thanksgiving for some infinite amount of time until the actual day of Christmas.  Time, it seemed, continued to slow down until it was moving at a crawl.  We had the trappings thereof as well: first the boxes would come down from the attic and the lights would go  up on the tree, followed by various and sundry decorations and the presents as Bing Crosby crooned us on towards Christmas Eve.

Now?  December seems to move faster and faster every year.  Most of it simply seems to be that corporations, no matter how they like to try and extend their schedules across twelve months, always seem to wait until the last one to try to get everything done.  They have not heard of the concept of time slowing down into Christmas - instead, they tend to speed it up until it is racing by at a clip as I desperately try to hold on to the passing bumper.

This years seems to have been the worst of all:  we have some decorations and the stockings appeared and there may even be lights in front of the house but no Christmas tree has yet graced us: if we are lucky, we can get one five days before Christmas.  With everyone in the house whipping in and out for finals and Christmas concerts and parties and random events we seem to be in a blur of motion that does not seem to lend itself to the dignity of the season.  Instead it seems to be a race to the day with every day attempting to pick up a little more speed.

But activities and finals and school are winding down; by Sunday all but the last bitter day of work will remain.  The season will suddenly come crashing into my consciousness like an avalanche.  Who knows - I may even get my shopping done.

It bothers me of course - I keep believing that Christmas should be like I remember it being, a time of quiet wonder and beauty rather than the outward cyclone of activity that it seems to have become.  But then I recall the origin of it and realize that for Mary and Joseph things were probably quite busy as well.  It is all a matter of what the real purpose of the event was - and is.