Christmas music before Thanksgiving

I have a rule in my house. It’s one of those not founded on anything except for my own personal preference kind of rules. We don’t listen to Christmas music until after Thanksgiving. 

There are several reasons for this. I’m not a multi-tasker, so I prefer to focus on one thing at a time. Thanksgiving comes first, and then it’s time for Christmas. I also hate the way Christmas is commercialized. Something tells me that decorations go up earlier each year for profit reasons, not to spread holiday cheer. Last but not least, it's tradition. I love Christmas traditions, and this is just one of many.

All that being said, I have a confession to make.

I broke my rule this year, and I am loving it.

It all started a couple weeks ago when I was feeling overwhelmed. There’s nothing wrong in my immediate household, but there is so much heartache in the lives of my family and friends right now. We share our lives with those around us, and I am sharing in their grief and struggle.

First on the list is the death of my cousin Adam. Cancer took him away at only 31 years of age. Cancer sucks. Adam was one of those brilliant guys that could blow your mind with a simple facebook status. He was someone that you could look at and marvel at the amount of potential one individual could contain. I have to admit that there has never been a time when I understood the way God works, but circumstances such as this make it especially difficult. He was the only son of his parents, the only sibling of his sister. He was loved. He is loved still, but he is gone for now.

I have another friend who delivered her son fifteen weeks early. He is so perfectly formed, but he is fighting for his little life. So many people are praying for him, and we are helpless to do anything else. He is in God’s hands, but sometimes (well, often) God’s plan is far from what we desire. We pray and hope, but we live in the reality of a fallen world.

My former pastor’s father was steadily declining in health a couple weeks ago as well. Two days ago, God called him home. (I told you cancer sucks.) Other loved ones have marriages that are falling apart, addictions, depression, financial trouble, and just the tremendous stress that our everyday toils can bring. Life is hard. And painful.

I have been praying for these loved ones, but my heart is still heavy for them. As much as I would like to sit and ponder life and God and pray all day long, I cannot. I have a husband and children that need me. I need to be functional, and I need to put my grief somewhere.

Now enters: Christmas music.

One day when I was feeling especially down, it occurred to me that Christmas music always makes me feel cheerful. And so, I cast my strict boundary to the wayside and created a Christmas station on my Pandora. I haven’t stopped listening to it since.

There is something about Christmas music that takes me back to carefree days of yore. It’s just one of those things. Kind of like how catching lightning bugs recalls a happy evening of playing in my great grandma’s back yard, eating homemade popcorn reminds me of sleepovers at Grandma’s house, or seeing a van like the one at the left awakens fond memories of my college roommate. (She thought they looked like jellybeans. It's a fair point.)

The Christmas music did the trick. Even more than just feeling warm fuzzies, the lyrics evoke peace in my soul. It’s hard to feel heavy-hearted when you’re singing about how the God of the universe took on flesh and dwelt among us. And yes, I used the correct verb there. If the music is on, this mama is singing along! (My poor children.)

O Holy Night is my all-time favorite. The soul feels it’s worth. Hope thrills us. The weary world rejoices. Chains will be broken, and oppression will cease. I can barely get through it without choking up every single time. (And as if that all weren’t enough, this clip was one of my family’s favorite commercials as a child. It was recorded on our trusty VHS tape, so it got lots of views.)

Another favorite is I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day. I guess you could say it encompasses everything I’m trying to express about the power of Christmas music. It tells the story of a man who despairs at the lack of peace on earth, but then the Christmas bells remind him of the truth.

God is not dead.

The wrong will fail, the right prevail.

One day there will be peace on earth. Even cancer, pain, heartache, and problems of every kind will cease. Until then, we find peace in Christ for the moment and hope in Christ for the future.

There are SO many more Christmas songs that I could list, but I will spare you. I don't think I've ever given the thumbs up to so many songs on a Pandora station.

Honestly, I have been surprised at how the Christmas music has enhanced rather than detracted from my feelings of thankfulness. This might sound cheesy, but I don’t think I’ve ever been more thankful during the Thanksgiving season than I have this year. Just being honest.

And just because businesses focus on Christmas for selfish reasons, doesn't mean that I have to. What they meant for profit, I will instead use for joy.

2012- Just before the fight broke out

As far as the tradition thing goes, trying new things has never been a big deal to me. There are plenty of other traditions that will continue, including the decoration of our tree just after Thanksgiving. Not to mention, listening to the Christmas music earlier can just become the new tradition. I'm just adding to it, not taking it away.

I’m not saying everyone has to convert to this way of thinking. To each his own. (Though it often seems the complainers, not the grateful folks, are most vocal with their anti-Christmas music sentiments.) I just know that in the future, I’ll probably be letting loose with some pre-Thanksgiving Christmas tunes. Christmas means hope, and hope makes me especially thankful.

Going over to the dark side has been far better than I imagined. If you give it a try, you might just be as surprised as I was. Unless you don't like Christmas music at all, in which case I have two words for you.

Bah humbug.