NaNoWriMo and Christmas

      I should finish my NaNoWriMo novel Tin Man Dark tomorrow. I'm very close. Just a little over 1000 words, and I'll be done. I don't seem to feel accomplished, just relieved. It's been a frantic, stressful month, and I'll be glad to have it over. I'm all written out today or I'll try to end the book now.
      I've done nothing except write today. Not much to tell you. Yesterday my friend Randall dropped by on his way back to Texas. We bummed around town a bit and ate at a local restaurant before he headed on to the Lone Star State, also known as the Gulf of Oklahoma.
      My Oklahoma State Cowboys went down in defeat to the University of Oklahoma Sooners this afternoon, but the Cowboys made them sweat right down to the final seconds of the game. The only bright spot is that the Sooners will now play for the Big 12 Championship. At least it's an Oklahoma team.
      I feel overwhelmed by my list of things that need to be done. The holidays always seem to come like a steamroller. I just have to keep reminding myself that some things are important and others are just nice. Do the important things. Do the nice things if you get time.
      I'm already had an idiot at my job trot out that tired and intellectually and spiritually bankrupt theme of: "I hate Christmas; it's so commercial." I used to try to explain that it's only commercial if you make it so. That you can volunteer at a thousand organizations that need help during the holidays, like soup kitchens, the Salvation Army, the Red Cross, Meals on Wheels, etc. That you can carol at the nursing homes or go and visit shut-ins. I used to think I could explain. But now I realize those complainers lack the capacity for compassion; they don't volunteer at any other times, either. I don't waste my time with explanations now. But neither will I listen to their gripes about Christmas. If they really wanted to change things, they could. They don't. They just want to stew in their tiny, self-centered world. Here's the deal: I won't bother them about Christmas if they won't bother me.
      I like Christmas. Not because I always get what want. Not because I'm surrounded by friends and family. Not because I don't get depressed or sad as the cold nights deepen. Not because it answers my dreams or grants my wishes. Not because I wander around unaware of the world's problems and sorrows. I'm not blind. I face Christmas with my eyes wide open. But I like it anyway.
      I like the manger -- however inaccurate historically it may be. I like the wise men -- whether there were three or thirty. I like that birth in Bethlehem. I like the glorious hosts and the shepherds. I like the young couple cherishing their first child, filled with that terror that grips every parent. I like the joy at that beginning before the sorrow that would follow years later.
       I don't expect Christmas to solve my problems. I don't expect it to redeem my year. I don't expect it to be anything except what it was meant to be. And so on a cold December night, I will stop and close my eyes at a Midnight Mass and I invite in that overwhelming mystery, that awe, that brief glory that deigned to touch the earth two thousand years ago.
      Good night all.