That’s what Christmas means to many of the people we cross paths with every day.
Or it’s a hectic, expensive activity we endure half-heartedly — or we unrealistically expect it to provide some form of fulfillment or satisfaction, to meet some inner longing of the soul. But we, generally, just end up being more broke, disillusioned, and depressed than the year before.
For many of us it’s a reminder that our lives are not what or where we would like for them to be, that we have failed again to fulfill goals or aspirations—and that a large number of the people we care about really don’t reciprocate our affections.
When we truly look, we see empty eyes, empty souls, unmet longings, deepening insecurities.
Many people see that in the mirror.
For me, there is too often an emphasis on what’s been lost during the past year; I can spiral downward, moving emotionally farther and farther away from the joy and hope and security I long for—and that the season theoretically offers. In my dark moments, I can be blind to anything but short days and long, cold, dark nights.
Is there a light in that deep darkness?