Christmas Cheer: What Is it, Really?

We all like to get into the spirit of Christmas. I know I certainly do. There's something inherently cozy and heartwarming about Christmas. A lot of people have their own little December rituals, like curling up with a classic Christmas movie from your childhood. (A Muppet Christmas Carol is my personal favorite.) The more nostalgic, song-filled and kid-friendly it is, the better. You let the film play, an idle, oh-so-satisfying wave of Yuletide bliss saturating through your senses and into the depths of your adult heart.

But this year? Christmas couldn’t be more routine for me. I've been working in retail for much of this month, like many young people in America, and have grown more tired of Christmas than the Grinch and Ebenezer Scrooge combined. But it has given me a new perspective on the commercial commotion that is Christmas in America.

This time of year, customers flood into the store five days before Christmas morning, looking for great deals. The lines at the cash register stretch all the way down from the toy section and start to bleed into the housewares section.

And in my experience, folks aren’t always patient.

For a few rare individuals, no amount of Yuletide cheer can calm their tempers while they’re waiting behind that one lady with a thousand coupons and no idea how to use them. Before long, verbal skirmishes break out. People bicker about the most trivial of things, over who was in line first, like hippos jostling for a space at the water-hole.

When I see these (thankfully rare) people, I realize, more keenly than ever, that everyone is striving to be happy, especially at Christmastime. Everyone's trying to get their fair share, their perfect Christmas gift, their place at the front of the line. The annual Christmas hype is basically a bunch of people trying to grab some happiness at the same time, like it's something to be bought off a shelf, like they've got to get it first.

Recently, I met a homeless woman. I don't think I've ever met someone with a more desperate desire for happiness, who felt it was rapidly running out of stock.

I met her while I was on my lunch break, sitting at an empty table in Panera Bread. Out of nowhere, she came right up to me and asked if she could sit down. Almost without introduction, she started pouring her heart out and telling me the story of how her Christmas was going. It was cold outside, and she had no home to sleep in. She was aching with hunger, and she had no money for food. She needed someone to talk to, but her family had left her homeless.

As I listened, I searched for sincerity in her voice and eyes. She could easily have been lying, trying to trick some gullible young person. Maybe she wasn't homeless at all. I attempted to "teach her how to fish," offering her suggestions and tips about how to keep warm, and where to get food. But all she would do was look at me pensively, and nod slowly. It became clear, as I talked to her, that I was calling from the top of a well, while she was trapped at the bottom, without the will to clamber back up.

My eyes wandered. I saw that it was snowing outside. Flakes were drifting through the frigid air. Only a few days left until Christmas. Christmas, the holiday where people give to their loved ones, where the poor are given food and asylum. The season when people think of Jesus Christ and the everlasting spirit of Christian compassion and generosity. The time of year when you get that warm, fuzzy feeling we've immortalized in Santa Claus.

I realized I couldn't leave that table without helping her.

In the end, I offered her what I could: a gift card with $15 on it. What I got in return was a smile and a hug. I’m sad to say, I walked away feeling stupid, feeling duped. I was afraid that I had been deceived. But even so, there was not a single knot of regret in my heart that I had done it.

Was that the secret, I wondered? Is that what makes us truly happy, just giving things away like that? Does happiness come when we're seeking to be happy, when we're buying ourselves a nice new jacket or a box of Christmas goodies? Or is it when we're tiptoeing through the living room at midnight on Christmas Eve, trying to sneak some gifts under the tree without waking anyone up?