This Christmas I had over 70 gifts to buy, and I vowed not to go to the mall for any of them. Any gift I could buy in a crowded store, I could buy cheaper online. Any toy, scarf, or coffee maker I could stand in line for, debating if it was the right choice, I could read hundreds of reviews about online. I could drive around the mall, fighting for a parking spot, or I could have Amazon deliver my gifts straight to my door.
By CyberMonday I was pretty much done with my shopping. The malls were filling up, Target was chaos, and I was home with my porch was full of Christmas gifts. In the middle of the parties, pageants, and programs, our shopping was the only efficient part of Christmas.
Then last night I met a friend for dinner at Houston’s most crowded, over-the-top commercialized shopping center. After looking for a parking spot for thirty minutes, I joined the masses of Christmas shoppers–thousands of moms loaded down with packages, bewildered men wandering into jewelry stores, and even teenagers, traveling in loud gangs, taking selfies with Santa in the background.
Guess what? They all looked so happy. They were celebrating Christmas in the American pre-holiday ritual of going to the mall. A grandpa walked past lugging a huge stuffed lion from the toy store. His grin was a big as the lion’s scowl. Joy.
I sort-of hate to admit, but all of this is really part of the Christmas experience. When else do public sound systems play songs about Jesus? When else do crowds of people come to the mall with the same goal–to find the perfect gift to give someone else? Christmas might be the most commercialized holiday, but at the center of every gift exchange is a little bit of raw hope. The humbleness of making someone happy. Again, the grandpa with the stuffed lion. You can’t get see that kind of excitement shopping online. The hope, the energy, the love is contagious.
This time of year, shopping online or shopping in a mall is the difference between a quiet, Advent devotion by myself and singing Joy to the World with three thousand other people at the Really, Really Big Christmas Show. Yes, there might be more germs spread with all those people, there may be more traffic headaches and crowds. But seeing those other believers singing about joy ministers to me. Being part of the Christmas-buying frenzy, hearing cashiers wish me a Merry Christmas, seeing the hope for a happy Christmas on everyone’s face, is part of the Advent experience. Like it or not, this time of year is about community.
What’s next? Realizing making Thanksgiving dinner from scratch is a more valuable than serving Stouffers turkey and mashed potatoes? What realization will come after that? That baking cookies together as a family is more important than grabbing a dozen from the grocery store? Finally admitting that wandering always offers the more valuable lessons? Finally saying that efficiency never really wins?
Like it or not, America, the mall is part of our country’s Christmas traditions. Next year, I’m not paying for shipping, I’m going to the mall. I’m going to celebrate by listening to The Little Drummer Boy on the sound systems. I’m joining the Starbucks line and smiling my best Jesus-Loves-You smile.
With my smile, I’ll say, “Merry Christmas. I’m all in, you crazy crowds. Let’s Do This.”
