It was around Halloween when I noticed it. Near my kids’ elementary school on the corner of 17th and Toledo Streets someone had put a pumpkin on top of a stop sign.

Even if you’re not normally aware of your surroundings, your brain takes note of things like a pumpkin on a stop sign.

It stayed there longer than I expected. Surely the street department or a neighborhood resident would remove it. But it remained for at least a couple weeks till I saw it smashed on the street, a messy clue fingering kids as the disposal crew.

Whoever put that pumpkin up there had another one. Because a day later the stop sign was once again sporting an orange gourd hat. I laughed when I saw it and wondered how long this one would stay perched.

People were either too lazy to take it down or just got used to seeing it there because it survived the entire month of November. And into December. Looking quite resiliant, I might add. Definitely the freshest looking pumpkin I’ve ever seen on a stop sign after seven weeks. But it is December. Pumpkins are supposed to be gone long before the holiday fruitcakes show up.

Dropping my kids off at school the other day, it was still there. Except someone, in the spirit of the season, had painted it gold. Now it fits in with the Christmas lights. It’s still a pumpkin on a stop sign. But it’s spiffed up now. And I think anyone who sees it turned out for the holidays would have to agree that the stop sign would be under-dressed without it.

Can I say it? Christmas the event, the birth of Christ, is joyous. Christmas the season, with all its stress, is not. For most of us, our level of angst during this time of year is high as the North Pole. Every unresolved situation, every strained relationship, every financial hardship, every unmet goal, every failed resolution bubbles to the surface. Somehow we hope “the most wonderful time of the year” will fix everything that’s broken in our life. We try our best with carols and cards, parties and presents. We cover our houses with everything that glitters and glows.

Yet more often than not, it simply illuminates how undone we are.

All my adult life I’ve hoped for the perfect Christmas. That just once everything in my sphere; relationships, goals, finances, mindset and emotions, situations and circumstances, would be as perfectly synchronized as the blinking lights on the tree.

Is it a big surprise to say it’s yet to happen? I’m always disappointed. In fact, several of those years have truly been “The Nightmare Before (and during and after…) Christmas”. You’d think I’d adjust my expectations. But every year, sure as stripes on a candy cane, my hope for the perfect Christmas appears.

So what to do? Abandon hope? Embrace cynicism? Quit on Christmas?

Those are options. Many people have chosen one or all of them. Having been there myself, I can’t blame them.

I’m moving toward another solution. To accept, as best as my kicking and screaming self can, that that this side of heaven my life will never be in sync. I’m a broken person living in a broken world. My idealistic expectations are getting in the way of my potential joy.

Reality is, this side of heaven, my Christmas (and my life) will more often look like a pumpkin on a stop sign than the star on top of the tree.

So the best I can do is paint the pumpkin. To dress up and turn out and not worry about the frayed edges of my life. To express sentiment without fear. To celebrate what is instead of bemoaning what isn’t. Most importantly, focus on Jesus. The One who loved this out of sync world enough to leave His throne and show up as a baby so He could live our life and walk our walk.

Jesus our Savior, born for us.

Immanuel, God with us.

The One who understands that painting the pumpkin gold is sometimes the best we can do.

Merry Christmas.

“The Word became flesh and made His dwelling among us. We have seen His glory, the glory of the One and Only, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.” – John 1:14

Todd A. Thompson – www.ASliceOfLifeToGo.com

They achieved success by selling hundreds of thousands of people on the idea that their lives would be complete if they could lock and load garden produce like clips in an M-16 and fire cucumbers slices into a bowl at 120 rounds per minute. What do you get when you cross a tomato with a Tommy Gun? The Salad Shooter™.

America is a world power. In the marketplace. On the battlefield. And in the kitchen. We lead the world in salad technology. While other countries toss their greens with primitive wooden spoons, we prefer to fire at our lettuce from point blank range with electric pistols. All the safety rules apply. First and always, check to see if it’s loaded. Is there a potato in the chamber? Don’t point it at anything you don’t intend to slice and dice. When not in use, be sure the safety is on. This prevents accidental firing. All it takes is one slip of the finger on the trigger; one unfortunate blast of bacon bits and life as you know it is never the same. It’s all fun and games until someone loses an eye.

In sales, we talk about “need based selling”; the importance of explaining how the product or service will fill a need that the customer has. While the concept is valid, practically speaking, America hasn’t been a true need based society for over 60 years. In America, our economy is primarily driven by wants. It’s both the luxury and the curse of living in a land of plenty. Most Americans, while perhaps not yet at the income level they desire, are far beyond earning money for basic survival. For example, in 1950, 10 percent of all income in the United States was spent for luxuries. By 1980, 30 percent of all income went to luxuries. And that was 20 years ago.

Madison Avenue doesn’t sell needs. It sells wants. The best sales people today aren’t need fillers. They are want creators. No one needs a Salad Shooter. We may want it, but we don’t need it. With their creative and persuasive commercials, the marketers of the Salad Shooter have brushed aside the inexpensive practical efficiency of a simple kitchen knife and created a desire to see mushrooms flying out the end of a barrel. Tossing a salad is old fashioned. Shooting a salad is 21st century. Using a knife to cut your veggies is passé. Electric whirling blades are high-tech. Fulfilling a need is boring. Fulfilling a want is exhilarating.

Sometimes conversations about needs and wants imply that satisfying a want is a bad thing. Follow that line of logic and it’s easy to see the problems. Who determines the break point? Who draws the line between necessity and luxury? If fulfilling a want is bad, then is God displeased with everyone who lives beyond a stripped down utilitarian existence? I don’t think so.

The place to start, as always, is to allow God to define Himself by His own terms. God says that He owns it all. God also says that He is a loving, generous God who enjoys providing for us. Jesus Himself said that He came so that we “might have life and have it more abundantly.” In our American consumer culture we’re too quick to equate abundance with material gain. To point at Jesus’ words and say, “See, Jesus wants me to be rich!” is (besides a gross misinterpretation of the text) to miss the point.

Jesus had something much better in mind. He knows that it’s possible to fulfill every want and still not have what we need. Jesus understands we face the deadly possibility of fulfilling every want we have to the point of gaining the world, and in the process lose our soul. Or, as the bumper sticker says, “He who dies with the most toys…still dies.” In the end it’s our soul we need to keep.

Jesus knows our needs. Jesus also knows our wants. When we begin to experience the abundant life He wants to give us, it’s easier to discern the difference between the two.

Something to think about next time you’re firing hollow point croutons at your spinach salad. (Wear your safety glasses.)

“The thief comes to steal and destroy. I have come that they might have life, and have it more abundantly.” – John 10:10

While their older cousins plowed through piles of presents, Annie and Emma amused themselves with the old silver coasters they found on the end table, the same coasters they had been playing with for several days. The twins had their share of gifts to open. We tried to get them excited about it. Annie seemed to understand the concept of the initial rip, but then continued to tear the same bit of wrapping paper into smaller bite size pieces. The two of them had no desire to see what was inside their packages. Instead, Annie and Emma happily “gave” each other coasters. “I put one in your hand and you put one in my hand and we both get excited!” They spent their time gathering the old silver coasters the way a raven gathers shiny objects for its nest; oblivious to their relative value.

Watching my girls play I recalled their first Christmas last year. Babies, 2 months old, in red flannel sleepers snuggled together holding hands during an afternoon nap. And I thought about next Christmas when, God-willing, they will join their cousins in the merry mosh pit. What a brief and unique stage of life they are in. At 14 months of age they are too young to know better than to be anything but content with what they have. This year a silver coaster. Next year, a coaster wagon.

Are we happier after Christmas than before? Are we happier after receiving what was on our Christmas list than before we put in our request to Santa? In the days prior to December 25th we’re told and sold that we will be.

Marketers spend hundreds of millions of dollars to convince us that the perfect gift brings happiness to both the giver and the receiver. What they don’t tell us is that happiness is a moving target. The gadgets that hit the bulls-eye this Christmas will miss by a mile next year. Were that not true, we’d all still be enamored with our 8-Track tape players.

Inherent in anything labeled “new and improved” is a Trojan horse of discontent. If what they have is new, then what you have is old. If what they have is improved, what you have isn’t as good as it could be. The screaming Pentium 3 computer that made you happy last Christmas is now a daily reminder it’s not the speedster that is a Pentium 4. Who would have guessed that our level of technological awareness would become so focused as to be irritated by a two-second delay in processing time? Thirty years ago, the phrase “slow computer” would have been an oxymoron. God help us if we have to go back to electric typewriters and carbon paper. Because in our hard drive world I don’t think there’s anyone left who knows how to change a ribbon.

Are we happier after Christmas than before? Perhaps we can ask ourselves that question when we’re replacing the batteries on our Christmas Palm Pilots. Certainly there is value in giving and receiving, even if the good feelings are temporary. To watch our gifts bring smiles and excitement to those we love warms us. To open a gift and know that we are important to someone else is a wonderful honor.There are inherent blessings in giving and receiving, not the least of which is expressing our love to one another. We can always look for new and improved ways to appreciate the people in our lives.

Are we happier after Christmas than before? Annie and Emma showed no decrease in joy. They just kept playing with their coasters. Then again, they aren’t mature enough to appreciate that this may well be the purest, most innocent Christmas they will ever experience.

Happy are the toddlers, for no one has told them they shouldn’t be.

The 20-something brother and sister were looking through a stack of Phoenix Suns shirts.

“Who knows? We’re buying for our mother. She’s really picky.”

“Don’t you have the “it’s from my daughter, I’m sure whatever it is I’ll love it” thing going for you?”

“You don’t know our mother.”

“So it’s more like, “You’re my daughter, you should know better” that you’re dealing with?”

“Exactly…This looks like the right size but if it shrinks it’ll be too tight and she’ll be upset. If I go a size bigger and guess wrong she’ll open it and say, “What’s this? Do you think I’m fat?”

The brother speaks. “She likes Diamondback stuff. Get her the World Series DVD. She and Dad can both enjoy that.”

“But that’s really more of a present for Dad. And we already got him a shirt. Which means Dad would be getting a gift and a half and Mom would just be getting half a gift.”

“So buy a shirt for her and the DVD for both of them and it’s even.”

“What if I get the wrong size?”

“She can always return it.”

“From Minneapolis?”

A few minutes later they left the store carrying the weight of Christmas present in a two-ply shopping bag.

The holiday music floating above our heads proclaims this a season of comfort and joy. A quick check of the facial expressions in any mall during the month of December and you’ll see that many of us aren’t buying it. Retailers do their biggest business around the holidays. So do counselors and psychologists. Stress and the holidays go together like red stripes and candy canes.

We open more than neatly wrapped packages at Christmas. We also open up the emotional boxes we’ve been stuffing in our closet all year. Or, perhaps more accurately, Christmas opens them for us. There’s something about Christmas that shines the light of reality on our relationships. Be they good, bad or ugly, we’re more aware of our perceived success or failure with others this time of year. And our awareness presents itself…in presents.

The preferred year-end relationship therapy of Americans is to buy something. The perfect gift, we tell ourselves, will make everything better. The perfect gift will communicate what I haven’t been able to say this year. The perfect gift will make up for all my mistakes. The perfect gift will reconcile me to the one who pulled away from me. Or to the one I pushed away.

On December 24th and 25th people from New York to Newport Beach will gather in living rooms and sit in front of fireplaces, anxiously waiting for their perfect gift to land on the lap of the one they love. Or the one we wish loved us. Or the one we’ve never been able to get along with and wish we could. Or the one we’ve been trying to please all our life. Or the one we hurt. Or the one who hurt us. Or the one who keeps us at a distance.

In a few days, many of us will live or die by the expression on another person’s face. Our success or failure depends on that microsecond flash of non-verbal feedback when they open our gift. If in their eyes we see happiness and affirmation, we win. If we don’t, we lose. Until that moment, our perfect gift sits under a tree like a time bomb and we’re praying it’s full of confetti.

For many of us, “the hopes and fears of all the years” are wrapped in ribbons and reindeer paper and sealed with Scotch tape. The perfect gift, we tell ourselves, will make everything better. It will break the communication log jam. It will be the key that opens the door to a locked heart. It will win us the approval we desperately seek. It will close the gap and heal the hurt. That’s an awful lot of weight to put on a cashmere sweater from Sak’s. Or a socket set from Sears.

There’s something about Christmas that shines the light of reality on our relationships. Some 2,000 years ago God shined His light on a broken, hopeless humanity. His preferred method of relational therapy was to give a Gift. And God knows all about the deep desire for a gift to be well-received. Every day He watches the eyes of His created humans for that expression of affirmation, that confirmation that His gift of forgiveness has been accepted. It’s the grandest gift money can’t buy. Accepted, it closes the gap, heals our hurts and heads us toward heaven.

That’s an awful lot of weight to put on the shoulders of a baby in a manger.

And that’s the miracle of God’s Christmas present.

“And the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for behold, I bring you good news of a great joy which shall be for all people; for unto you this day in the city of David is born a Savior, which is Christ the Lord. And this will be a sign for you; you will find the baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.” – Luke 2:10-12