For the Love of Footie-Pajamas

I awoke this morning realizing it was first of December, meaning that the month of joy, yuletide, and cheer has entered to clear the fog that accompanies final exams. But to be honest, I wasn't feeling it. To me, it felt like any other day. Fear struck my heart as I heard that whisper inside my head . . .

It's just like any other day. 

My mind began whirring with the scary questions that this phrase prompted. Had I outgrown Christmas just like some kids outgrow their footie pajamas?? Was I destined to become a female version of Scrooge who would yell 'Bah Humbug' and refuse to sing Christmas carols or get a Christmas tree? Would the Christmas season never again excite my soul and bring light into my life and the lives of those around me? Was Christmas gone forever?

I placed a hand to my heart to make sure it was still beating. Okay, clearly it was still thumpin' away and even beating a little faster because of my sympathetic nervous system kicking in. It had, in fact, not turned to stone. Funny. What was wrong with me? I had gone from being the jolly Ghost of Christmas Past to being the scary Ghost of Christmas Future without pausing for the Present.

With these troubling thoughts, I headed off to my first class. As I looked around the campus, fully decorated for Christmas, I struggled to find the warm glow that usually accompanied the Christmas season and thoughts of the Lighting Ceremony where Christmas carols were sung and the Christmas lights brilliantly lit up the area . . . but no glow came. Only my dark shroud of normalcy remained as I trudged on to class with a heavy heart.

Classes came and went; Christmas stayed away. But then I opened the door to the back office where I work. And I immediately yelled, "CHRISTMAS!!!!" For you see, at that moment, when I walked into that place that I love and saw it decorated with Christmas trees and lights, that, my friends,  THAT was the moment that the Christmas spirit of cheer and joy burst from beneath the gloom of everything else around me. It felt great. It felt glorious. I wanted to sing a Christmas song . . . or twelve.

So now I’m sitting doing homework, listening to Christmas carols, and wishing for snow. I’m glad my Christmas spirit appeared, because I don’t want to be Scrooge. Also, I don’t want to accept that I’ve outgrown footie pajamas. And I definitely don’t want to ever outgrow the joy of Christmas, because that is something too special to ever let go.