Better Watch

“You better watch out. You better not cry. You better not pout I’m telling you why. Santa Claus is coming to town.” We had this joke in my family that arose around the time my brother and I entered the sullen teenage years. In early December, at some point, one of us would make a snarky comment or just generally be bratty and my mom would say (not sing) the words of this song at us as a warning. That’s how we knew we’d officially entered the Christmas season. It was all in good fun and we’d have a chuckle whenever mom started her, “better watch out” bit, but now that I think about it, the song really puts a lot of pressure on kids. If you’re not happy and nice, Santa will find out and Christmas is cancelled! Jeez.

This time of year, with its shiny lights and bright expectations, some of us find it easy to be filled with joy and good cheer. There’s time with family, fun parties, shopping and baking – plenty to busy ourselves with.  And for many people, all that cheer turned up to 11 carries the message of how we’re supposed to feel. When our mood doesn’t match the music, it can be pretty lonely. The shorter days can bring us down, hence all the focus on making spirits bright, so let’s remember to be tender with one another. Some of us have experienced loss recently or in the past, which gets stirred up especially at this time. Some of us don’t have as many loved ones around or aren’t able to make it to lots of parties. Some of us are holding terrible pain and sorrow that no amount of glitter, or elves, or candy canes or holiday lights can banish.

I am reminded every day that the greatest gift of ministry is not fixing or healing. It’s not about expounding or illuminating. Above all else, the most important function of this vocation is presence. My job, first and foremost is to hold the sorrow, to witness the grief, to help another carry their burdens. I can’t take the burdens away, which is the hard part. I can’t make sorrows disappear, but I can sit cross-legged on the floor next to you for a time and remind you that you’re not alone. And the beauty is that each of us can do this, for a time, not for every single person we encounter, but for some. And if each of us shares this responsibility – one for another – and if we turn down the volume, just a bit, on the expectations cast onto virtually every surface this season, I believe we can find our way through the darkness. In order to do that, we need to tend to our own hearts and feed our spirits. And this, for me, is the greatest challenge of ministry, to carve out enough time for quiet so that I can be a truly present companion. My promise is that I will continue to work on it and I invite you to join me in the practice of creating more quiet in our lives.

For now, in this season, I want you to hear that you are not alone and, you know what, you can pout and cry if you need to. You are already good for goodness sake, even when you’re sad or grieving or just plain mad. And let’s try to watch out for each other, whatever Santa decides.

Yours with love and in faith,

Eileen