I'm the Real Live Grinch You've Heard Them Tell About

I'm a grinch when it comes to Christmas, and I am totally unashamed to be called one by those who love Christmas. I'm not the kind of grinch that goes around stealing little kids' presents or candy. I don't paint myself green or spike my hair to look more recognizable. I just don't like Christmas. I don't think I'm mean, and I try to keep my feelings quiet, though I do have to admit I've never been very successful in keeping quiet about anything. There you have it. But, before you begin to hate me for being a grinch, please let me explain my side of it, at least.

One of my fondest memories of Christmas is 1965 when I was seventeen. I had summer and after school jobs, so I had my own hard earned money to spend on my parents. I lived in a small town with the county court house and main street that you see in pictures. That Christmas memory is of walking the sidewalks of that main street. The snow was falling and crunching under each step. As I visited each shop, the sun was setting. Pay attention and you'll hear the Silver Bells ringing.

My hometown, Falls City, Nebraska as painted by
native John P. Falter in 1946 for Saturday Evening Post

Time warp to 2015 and today's Christmas shopper. The malls and the "super centers" are overflowing with people in a hurry, angry people. Some have walked for so long that their feet are throbbing, their backs are aching. They've had it with the other rude shoppers and the store clerks who are either just as rude or else non-existent. Shoppers are grabbing anything that looks remotely appropriate for their task, and cheap enough to pretend it will fit in this year's budget. But, frankly, the "so-called budget" was left behind long ago. And the credit card debt keeps rising higher and higher. Let's not talk about the parking situation, okay?

Have you taken a look at the houses up and down your suburban block after 7 p.m.? Or maybe you've been carefully watching so as not to fall behind the Smith's across the street with your decorating. They have maps from space that show how brightly lit U.S. cities are at Christmas time. Year after year the Smith's increase their strings of icicle lights by five strings. They add another Santa Claus somewhere on the lawn and two more lighted snowmen. The rest of the block sees the additions, and the next day you'll see an increase of the electric bills for every house in sight. Make way, now, for the fifty cars per hour strolling leisurely through the neighborhood, blocking local traffic, and totally disrupting the theme of "Peace on Earth". The cars are simply following all the lighted stars perched on top of all the houses in the community. 

Inside those beautifully decorated houses Dad and Mom are scratching their heads and wondering why they hadn't been more diligent about paying off last year's Christmas bills. Little Johnny and Susie are in the living room arguing over who's going to get the biggest and most expensive presents this year, and still complaining about the handmade gifts that grandma made for them last year. And she actually had the nerve to buy them some clothes!

                 

I'm seeing all the negative, aren't I? But, that's what I see when I see Christmas hovering near. Maybe it's my age, but I want Christmas to be about Jesus again. I want to see the innocence of Norman Rockwell paintings, and Mom and Dad actually buying just ONE very inexpensive fun toy. I want to see them give their extra money where the money is so scarce that the kids don't get a Christmas ham or a toy. I'd rather see the kids in the suburbs sprawled around the room with their family, reading the Christmas story, laughing and talking, playing games with grandpa. I'd rather hear kids tell me what they're giving as gifts rather than what they want to get. I wish Christmas to be about Jesus again.

So, looks like I'm gonna continue to be a grinch about Christmas. I'm not very confident about all this changing soon, and I just don't feel much like celebrating what Christmas has become. I'm trying to give gifts to my family off and on during the year and not be extravagant, as I have in the past, with my grandchildren who are thankfully not very materialistic. My Father is teaching me what and who is important. My family is rich when compared with most in this world. 

Shame on us for wanting more. But, we do. It's the American way. I want to do what little bit I can do to make my little corner of the world different. And, the only way that I believe we can change our materialism is to change our hearts. And, the only One who can change our hearts is Jesus. That's why I want to see Jesus put back in Christmas again.