A time when celebrating Christmas early makes sense
It's called "the Christmas Creep."
In an attempt to maximize their holiday sales, retailers start decorating their stores for Christmas long before Halloween. It's so predictable.
What is just as predictable is my grousing about this ungodly tendency. What has crept into our culture really bugs me. With Scrooge, I'm tempted to say "Bah, humbug!"
Fortunately, not all stores are so "creepy." I applaud Nordstrom's corporate policy that refuses to allow store managers to "deck the halls" until after Thanksgiving. Christmas shouldn't be unpacked until the ghosts, goblins and pilgrims have been put away. Christmas isn't quite as merry when it's creepy.
That said, my annual campaign against "the Christmas Creep" is a bit less vocal this year. I have come to see that there is a time and place to be "creepy." Let me explain.
A few months ago, my friend Priscilla was diagnosed with inoperable cancer. Her doctors gave her a choice. She could endure the consequences of chemotherapy or opt for quality (instead of quantity) of life. She chose the latter.
Recognizing their mom would not likely live to see Christmas, Priscilla's adult children tangibly expressed their gratitude for their mother's love three weeks before Thanksgiving. Hauling down decorations from the attic, they transformed her condo into a Christmas wonderland.
When I stopped by to visit and pray with Priscilla, I had no idea what her kids had done. I was totally surprised to see a Christmas tree trimmed and lit. My octogenarian friend proudly walked me around her place showing me her treasured collection. Priscilla beamed like an 8-year-old.
After we prayed, I suggested we stand by the tree and sing some carols. Our voices lacked perfect pitch, but I dare say "Silent Night" never sounded so sweet.
Allowing my friend to celebrate Christmas early was truly a gift. Why shouldn't Priscilla spend her final weeks of life basking in the glow of tree lights and enjoying the soundtrack of her favorite season?
After leaving her condo, I reflected on what I had experienced. A woman stunned by a doctor's unexpected diagnosis was at peace. The message of Emmanuel (God-with-us) had made itself at home in her heart. I realized the truth of Christmas isn't seasonal. It's a truth that is applicable year-round.
Christmas announces that light has invaded darkness, that love overcomes hatred, that reconciliation wins over alienation, that acceptance outlasts prejudice and that life ultimately defeats death. No wonder at the heart of the Christmas story we find old wise men bowing in submission to a newborn baby.
Calling on Priscilla that day also brought to mind the importance of visiting those whose days on earth are few. The light in Priscilla's eyes conveyed her gratitude for my stopping by long before she thanked me with words as I left.
My presence meant more to my friend than any present I might have given her. When death is drawing near, what tops a person's gift list is time with people they care about. They would rather unwrap memories of shared experiences while sipping a cup of tea than open a box filled with something they won't have time to enjoy.
Chances are you know someone who is in the process of celebrating their very last Christmas. Perhaps they won't make it to Christmas Eve. Unlike my friend, your friend or family member may be in a nursing home or a hospital room devoid of decorations. What they long for this Christmas is your presence. A visit from you would likely deck the hallways of their heart with joy.
While I still balk at "boughs of holly" in a department store before Halloween, seeing the same in the home of a dying friend is enough to leave me humming "Joy to the World."
I'm guessing it will leave you humming, too.
• The Rev. Greg Asimakoupoulos is a former Naperville resident and Neighbor columnist who wrote regularly about faith and family.