You better not pout, I’m telling you why. Because somebody will snap a pic and post it on social media and you’ll have to live with that face forever. And ever.
That’s why I try not to show my seasonal angst. And still…every time. Every time I look awful, I run into my most together friend. HER. That altogether all together friend. I try not to let it, but it surely can make me cranky. And angsty. Crangsty.
One time when I looked my absolute worst, I saw HER at Target. Her hair was perfect and her purse matched her shoes.
I was wearing holey jeans (not the trendy kind of holes and not the good kind of holy). I also had on the reindeer sweater from last year’s joke gift exchange. Three sizes too big with a big stain on one of the reindeer’s eyeballs.
Me: Oh hey…heh heh…um…I don’t usually wear…er…well, laundry…… Hey, how ‘bout that Christmas shopping? You getting through your list?
HER, with a musical chuckle: Oh sweetie, I finished all that before the end of September. Had them wrapped, of course, in October. That way I had plenty of time to sew matching Christmas outfits for my children. Plus teach them French. And hey, those homemade candles are not going to dip themselves, am I right? Oh, you have a little something on your…
Me with undertones of crangst: It’s called a stain-deer, Julie, and why don’t you even have one.
I was happy for her and her finished list. And her perfect hair and her French-speaking children. Really I was. OK, mostly I was. She was crangsting me a little.
If I’m honest, though, I know that no one can crangst me, not even HER. Not only because crangst is not a verb – or a word – but because when I’m crangsty, it’s because I’ve crangsted my own self.
A little too much scrolling through everyone else’s perfect pics, and a few too many comparisons, jealousies, and frustrations over not being nearly as “Julie” as we would like to be, and we can find ourselves in the crangstiest pout of the year.
Maybe it’s time for a reminder that even the Julies have bad hair days now and then. Everyone experiences difficulties, unmet expectations, and times of feeling utterly overwhelmed and ill-equipped. There’s room in a merry Christmas for grace and mercy. No room for envy.
We mature as we follow Paul’s instruction to “Rejoice with those who rejoice” (Romans 12:15), and as we learn from his words in 2 Corinthians 10:12 that, “measuring themselves by themselves and comparing themselves to themselves, they lack understanding.”
Learning from the examples of godly people and following their cues helps us grow. The same Paul said, “Imitate me, as I also imitate Christ” (1 Corinthians 11:1). But when we drift from learning into the trap of comparing, we set ourselves up for a blue, blue, blue Christmas, full of pouty, cranky angst.
Comparison can be a place of exasperating misunderstandings. We can either walk away puffed up by a false sense of our own goodness, or line ourselves up against every Julie and walk away in an out-of-balance sense of defeat and inadequacy.
Celebrating Jesus, focusing every aspect of our day, our list, our season on Him, cures the crangsts. Let Him fill you with the joy He intends for you as you celebrate Him. Think about what the birth of Christ has done for this world. For HER, yes – and that’s joyful – but also for you. Add “give thanks” to your list. Cranky can’t survive thanksgiving. Swapping crangst for “thankgst” – that makes the picture-perfect Christmas. We can live with that. Forever. And ever.