Lisa is a new member of our editorial board. This is her inauguration post at Blog Segullah. She lives in Highlands Ranch, Colorado with her husband and five children ranging in age from 1 to 17. She married the love of her life, Bryan, at the tender age of twenty, followed him wholeheartedly to BYU and willingly abandoned her dream of becoming a world-class bassoonist in favor of raising a family. She returned to college in 2007 after an eighteen year break and is currently pursuing a B.A. in English. Lisa, a highly distracted and early-morning autodidact, canusually be found picking up holds from her local library, playing her newly-acquired Baldwin grand piano, or typing away at her laptop. She is adept at ignoring the burgeoning ironing pile or putting off the inevitable trip to the grocery store. She blogs at Brainy Mama. Welcome Lisa!
Nestled between the hullabaloo of Halloween and the chaos of Christmas lies neglected November. In our commercial society, as soon as the rotting pumpkins hit the trash can, all the Christmas decorations come out. Frankly, I’ve never been able to put up my Christmas tree before consuming the Thanksgiving turkey. I just can’t do it. I don’t like to be rushed and November is just too precious to be treated as a mere bridge on the way to Destination Christmas.
In contrast to our material world, everything in the natural world says “rest,” “slow down,” “quit producing.” But in our grocery-store-ripened lives, suburbanites, such as myself, are cut off and utterly detached from the agrarian concept of the harvest. The idea of fruition and the subsequent cessation of the growing season elude me as I continue to accumulate and indulge. Just when I most need to focus inwardly and conserve my precious stores of energy and strength, I am forced to expend them—often on things that deplete my peace and sanity rather than replenish them.
As the fall days grow darker, cooler, and shorter, my circadian rhythms respond accordingly. Although society urges me to gear up for the holiday season ahead, I feel sluggish and languid. When I contemplate the upcoming mental demands of Christmas, how I wish I could lay dormant underground like the tulip and daffodil bulbs I planted several weeks ago or find a den to hibernate in for the winter.
Unfortunately, I don’t have that luxury. For the past twenty years, I have fought the ambivalence and weighty responsibility that comes with being a woman in charge of orchestrating the holidays for her family. In my younger years, I compared my paltry efforts at festivity to the grandiose productions of other LDS women and reaped only exhaustion and frustration.
But now, as I mature and ripen in ability and perspective, I’m finding that I look forward to the fallowness each November brings. I learn to let go a little more, gearing down my expectations and finding more satisfaction in simplicity. Slowly, I’m beginning to internalize the empowering message found in Byrd Baylor’s poetic children’s picture book entitled I’m in Charge of Celebrations. In the story, a young woman who lives in the desert finds joy in her encounters with nature. She alone determines which occurrences in her life warrant celebration and sets the parameters surrounding how she will treasure and remember each valued experience.
Likewise, I want to take back from the advertisers my freedom to define, seek for, and celebrate my own inner joys and holy days. Perhaps November could be a desert place for me—a space unobstructed by unchecked growth, a plain of clarity that invites reflection and revelation.
I think the prophet Jacob had this kind of introspection in mind when he said, “Wherefore, do not spend money for that which is of no worth, nor your labor for that which cannot satisfy…come unto the Holy One of Israel, and feast upon that which perisheth not, neither can be corrupted, and let your soul delight in fatness”¦remember the words of your God; pray unto him continually by day, and give thanks unto his holy name by night. Let your hearts rejoice” (2 Nephi 9:51-52).
The melancholy autumn breeze of November, alternately biting and warming, fills me with longing as I continue to search for meaning in the seasons. As I choose to resist overload and opt for the stillness of the Spirit. I will not neglect November’s message echoed in the chattering leaves on the aspen tree: I’m in charge, I’m in charge.
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Here in Australia we’re moving into summer. I live in the tropics, so the heat and humidity is kicking in as well. So no Thanksgiving dinners, and no hibernation weather either!
I’m finding myself resisting the momentum into full activity of Christmas (decorations/Santas have been for sale since October) – as you said, I’m in charge of celebrations, and I’m choosing how to react, and how to celebrate Christmas.
Thanks for the reminder and perfect saying to remind myself that I am in charge of celebration.
I love November, it’s such a cozy month. I love the harvest mentality and the thanks we give for another year of bounty. Thank you for the gentle reminder to observe before we plunge into December.
I like this November because we’re not really freezing yet and it’s still so beautiful outside.
The first year we were married, we decided we couldn’t afford a tree. The second year we put our tree up on November 9th or so. We are back to waiting for Thanksgiving to pass now.
I like your idea of November being a desert place for you, a “plain of clarity.” Thank you for your calming thoughts.
[...] I wrote a blog post for Segullah yesterday. Check it out here… [...]
I loved this thought: “November is just too precious to be treated as a mere bridge on the way to Destination Christmas.” I so agree. For me, it’s not just that November is overlooked…it’s as if, in the rush toward commercialized Christmas, the last days of autumn are wasted. I start doing some shopping during November for Christmas, but only gifts, never decorations; I refuse to buy anything holiday-themed until December.
Thanks for writing this—I will continue to think about it.
I want to close myself up in my house, with my family all tightly inside, and repel the constant barrage of advertisements that assail me.
The New Era this month has a MormonAd that shows the whole world for sale.
“Don’t Buy It!” is proclaimed.
I don’t want it.
Amen.
Every year I check out and read Bill McKibben’s Hundred Dollar Holiday. (I don’t know why I haven’t bought it for myself, yet.) I’m still not where I’d like to be, but that book has helped me simplify things somewhat and always gives me the needed perspective I need going into the season. Unplug the Christmas Machine is another good book I have revisited several times. I also participate in Buy Nothing Day (which isn’t all that difficult for me since I hate to shop anyway!)I can’t wait to see that MormonAd, Justine. It’s going on my fridge.
I haven’t got it figured out yet. Last year I was involved in our stake’s Christmas program, which brought a wonderful spirit to these months. This year I am more on my own. I am trying to temper my gimmes–I love to look through toy catalogs and imagine my kids playing with all the fun things. I have to take a step back and realize that they can only appreciate a few things on Christmas. Sometimes more is less.
I am sad the way that November has all but been shut out of the celebratory world due to $$$$$!
pjb