It's that time again ...

I used to hate New Year's. In addition to the outrageous price hikes and getting trampled by the masses vying for your spot in the bar, restaurant or parking lot, it all seemed so forced to decide because the calendar was on this day instead of that day that we were going to decide collectively to improve ourselves. That being said, I'm no fan of St. Valentine's Day for the same reason. The commercial underpinnings and emotional manipulation of consumers makes my stomach turn, but more importantly, the celebration of love and our loved ones should be an intentional *daily* -- not yearly -- act. The world would be a better place if we kept that as a focus.

My dislike for Valentine's Day remains, but my feelings for New Year's have changed. I now see the merit in setting aside time to reflect and resolve to be better. It's far too easy to let each day melt into the next and let inertia root us in the status quo. Setting aside time at regular intervals -- even if it is 365 days -- to pause and hold oneself accountable is a healthy habit that I am sorry I ever criticized. It may be true that most of us fall away from our resolutions temporarily or permanently during the year; but the fact that we don't succeed at a perfect record shouldn't negate the value of the effort and the worthiness of the cause. For that reason, this year I have decided to have New Year's every day: that is, to reflect nightly on what I did right, what I did wrong and what I could do better tomorrow. I've been doing it for the last couple of evenings and noticed a marked improvement in the amount of awareness I bring to each day, the baby steps in growth and the feeling of being more alive. In this way, too, the bite-sized efforts to grow daily allow me to focus on those other habits I might have made a vague resolution to change but felt overwhelmed or unsure of where to start. The structure is the vehicle for change.

Detour to Truth

I've struggled this season with letting the joy in. I had difficulty reconciling the airbrushed reality of Christmas carols with the headlines I face each day -- 112 murdered in an instant in Iraq; the vulnerable dying on our streets under our noses. "Peace on Earth," "Goodwill to men" rang hollow to me, as if we've allowed ourselves all a few weeks of denial.

I began to pray, but the words were heavy and clung to my tongue. They felt irritatingly earthbound, unable to defy gravity as I looked up to Heaven frustrated by the perceived distance between my once-faithful heart and God. I asked Him to help me truly "get" the season, to take a detour around the distractions and arrive at the meaning.

My prayer was answered. While reading Advent reflections by Fulton Sheen, I found this: "If there is no peace in the world today, it is not because Christ did not come; it is because we did not let Him in." Twenty hours later, I was driving home from work covered in goosebumps, hearing this song for the first time.



From the haunting piano, string and choral parts to the masterfully written lyrics, the song captivated me. Here was a Christmas song that sprang from zeitgeist, resonating with my struggling soul, but comes to encouraging conclusions. The heavy lifting has been done already. Christ came in the least intimidating form possible: an infant, swaddled in humility, completely dependent upon a human mother. God began His time on earth the way we all do. He came, saw our reality with human eyes (and a divine heart) and then conquered death with incomprehensible love. If there's two things we can take away from this, they're (a) we are so loved, and (b) the awesome power beneath the surface of our fragile lives.

Christmas is not about slipping into denial, but rather awakening to the potential packed into each individual and our ability to impact the world around us. "You must be the change you wish to see in the world," Gandhi said. I don't have the power to deactivate a suicide bomber's vest or to feed and warm every homeless person around the world. But I do have the ability to choose how I react to the people surrounding me and to be loving even in the moments that try my patience.

I've learned that Christmas is about the power of presence (over presents). The thing that has meant the most to me as a growing believer in Christ is the fact that He came in the first place. Any struggle I bring to Him is not a distant reality, but one that He understands with a divine heart and has seen with human eyes. It is up to us to hear the bells ringing and the hopeful message He's brought, and also, to carry that tune to the rest of the world -- whether that be a smile, listening to someone who's hurting, offering our time to serve someone, or speaking truth when someone needs to hear it. Unwrapping this season's trimmings reveals what's inside the box and presents this surprise: Christmas is a time to comfort us, but also to challenge us out of complacency and cowardice. It is up to us to shape the world we live in. To hang back and lose hope because we cannot solve every problem creates a vacuum, leaving space for evil to gain ground. We must beat back daily the decay of our hearts and our society by being that change we wish to see in the world and being content that "I am only one, but still I am one. I cannot do everything, but still I can do something; and because I cannot do everything, I will not refuse to do something that I can do." (Helen Keller)