KA-CHINGLE BELLS
by
Phyllis Palmer
    It all starts much earlier, of course, but the frenzy phase of Christmas shopping kicks in the day after Halloween around here.  Overnight, the stores change their decor from bewitching  black and orange to the magical red and green of Santa-land.  The spidery cobwebs become glittery angel-hair, and ghosts turn into angels, as the first waves of dedicated early-shoppers sweep into the well-stocked stores.  These are often the well-organized types with lists in hand who know exactly what they are looking for, and intend to complete their shopping long before the rest of us sluggards have come out of hibernation to clutter up the malls.
    Most of them are probably nice people – in fact some are among my best friends.  But there are always those who delight in asking, long before Thanksgiving, if I am all ready for Christmas.  While I am still rolling my eyes or trying to assemble an excuse, they smugly inform me that all their presents are bought and wrapped, their cards mailed, and their 17 varieties of Christmas cookies already baked and frozen for the holidays.  When they launch into a description of the fun they’re having this year lavishly decorating the house for a Victorian Christmas, my eyes glaze over and epithets like “Martha Stewart” come to mind.  One of these years, I may succumb to the temptation to reply haughtily, “I don’t do Christmas!”  
    Trouble is, I do – or at least I try.  And I must admit I’m more than a bit jealous of these creative, energetic, over-achieving superwomen.  But I like to think that my values are in the right place, that I know what’s really important -- like resting up so I can enjoy the holidays with my
family.  And after all, isn’t Christmas supposed to be a more spiritual celebration of Christ’s birth, instead of a frantic orgy of competitive spending, doing and decorating?  So I resolve self-righteously that we are not going to go overboard this year.  I refuse to believe that my child will be emotionally scarred for life if I can’t get my hands on “Tickle Me Elmo,” or whatever is this year’s “absolutely must-have” toy.
    After Thanksgiving I decide it’s time to start thinking about preparing for our “simplified” Christmas, and I wander into the malls looking for just the right gifts for my loved ones.  Much later, frazzled from the battle for parking spots and clerks’ attention, numbed by the constant jingle of lively Christmas music, and overwhelmed by the multitudes of choices (none of which is quite right),  I return home exhausted and empty-handed, swearing off materialistic Christmas observances once again.
    But I know I can’t get off that easy.  The kids (not to mention the “grown-ups”) will be so disappointed if there’s nothing for them under the tree.  I’ve got it!  Calls instead of malls!   Let’s order from catalogs this year in the relative peace and comfort of our home, instead of fighting the elements and fellow shoppers out there.  What a great idea!  With a few free and easy phone calls, my shopping is practically done.  Now I can work on the cards and other preparations while I wait for the packages to arrive.  Who knows, I might get my cards out before Valentine’s Day for a change!  I might even have time for candy-making this year, or decorating the house!  Wait, let’s not get carried away here!
    Two days before Christmas, most of the orders have arrived safely, but a few are still missing.  An ominous letter comes from the company where I ordered fruit to be shipped to Aunt
Margaret in North Dakota.  Sorry, they’re out of that particular item.  Would I like to order a different assortment, or perhaps some Valentine’s candy, for my aunt?  Two other missing gifts
 are back-ordered and expected in by mid-January.  So it’s back to the malls, and the crowds.
    As  the countdown of shopping days proceeds, media sources keep us updated on the current temperature of the retail sector, and if the pace is less than feverish, the usual experts are called in to diagnose the problem.  And of course, there are the obligatory interviews with last-minute shoppers the TV stations rely on to fill news time when there’s a holiday shortage of shootings and other “hard” news.  This year I could become one of those public failures, my shame exposed before the whole community.
    Ready or not, Christmas Eve arrives -- a blessed oasis of calm, like the eye of the storm.  If we have things pretty well under control by then, we go to the early service at our church.  More often, we still have presents to wrap, so we attend the late service, the one that used to be a candlelight service until the fire marshall vetoed it.  Even without all the candles, there is a  magical quality about this service.  The lights are low as the real Christmas story is retold, the Advent candles are lighted, and the carols which annoyed us in the mall, now take on a sacred aura, as we join in singing them with our friends and loved ones.  Here, at last, is what Christmas is all about.
    Next year, I resolve, we’ll cut through the hassle right to the heart of Christmas, and try to  make it through the holidays with our Christmas spirit intact.  If we share our blessings with some folks who are less fortunate, that wonderful spirit could last all year!

(This was published in the ADDvance Magazine for women with ADD under the title “Much AD-Do About Christmas.”)