Someone stole my neighborhood and turned it into Whoville. Large elves, masquerading as competitive men, have ambushed our energy resources and hung up enough LED lights to have the streets aglow with a garish gleam as bright as the sun.
My first indication that our new neighborhood might go a little “over the top” at Christmas was during a conversation at my son’s baseball game. My neighbor asked me if I wanted to join in on the lift rental.
A “lift” rental? Seriously?
She assured me that it was a normal occurrence in our neck of the suburban woods at Christmastime, and that all the neighbors cooperatively shared the expense and used it for the soaring high icy peaks of our two-story homes. I could see desperation in her eyes that I grab onto her vision, but I wasn’t taking the bait.
I said “maybe” to the lift. Silly me…I’m so old-school thinking a ladder might be sufficient.
So, a few weeks later, the foretold lift arrived and our neighbors got busy stringing lights on the trees and peaks of our little borough. My family was out of town that weekend, so you can imagine our surprise when we returned.
Remember that song, “I wear my sunglasses at night?” Think bright — stadium-bright — and you just might get the picture. Every nook, corner and cranny burst forth with Christmas paraphenalia. And that’s just the lights!
The inflatable army has also come out in full force — Frosty, Spongebob, Mickey, and Santa bluster and blow about depending on their robustness or lack thereof. Sparkly reindeer, candy-canes and the angelic hosts have all joined the cast of characters on our street.
So, not wanting to feel left out, the next weekend my husband risked life and limb on an extension ladder to string a Charlie Brown strand from our roof to our neighbors. We highlighted one simple peak on the second story, strung lights around the porch, added a few multi-coloreds to the bushes and called it a day.
We were so proud of our simple accomplishment. We had fun, experienced a little danger on the extension ladder and laughed a great deal at our slightly cheesy and ghetto attempt at illuminating design.
That is…until we walked to the tract across the street. Some of our neighbors, concerned that we didn’t quite grasp the seriousness of the “decorating spirit” encouraged our family to travel over to Sarasota, where apparently the big Christmas dogs come out to play.
So, we bundled up the baby, grabbed some coats and mittens, and the family ambled out of our tract into the neighborhood just across the street.
And this is how we got schooled in the Ned Flanders way of Christmas.
We could hear the roar before we even crossed the street. Three lifts were at work. About fifty people were out, from kids to grandmas, and all were busy decorating. This was definitely the bigger the better, and anti-less is more school of thought.
Every tree was being wrapped in lights. Some of the homes had music synchronized with the lights to create shows. I’m pretty sure I saw a real sleigh and a chorus of angels. Music blared from loudspeakers. There were Christmas banners, themed homes and lights strung across the street from roof to roof creating a tunnel of extreme awesomeness. It was the North Pole, a fairy tale, and a child’s Disney dream!
As my son and I reveled in the majesty of our Costco culture, laughed at the over-commercialized decorations, and took in materialism at its finest, my husband on the other hand, turned sour. The Grinch face was starting to appear.
“It’s too much,” he said, “too competitive, too garish. They’ve lost the Christmas spirit.”
I nodded my head in agreement while secretly plotting ways to spruce up our own lawn.
“So how about an inflatable Jesus on roller-skates?” I suggested.
At least I got a smile out of him.
Deep down, I know it’s the posture of our heart that matters at Christmas. If we are decorating our neighborhood as a gift to the community, then the gift — whatever it’s brilliance or lack thereof is enough. If we are decorating for approval, applause and to win the association’s contest, then shame on us.
If I am to be honest, I desire both. I want to be content with a little. I also want to compete and win.
I struggle with my inner naughty; this duality of the Christian walk and the daily battle between choosing humility or competitiveness. I think I might have caught my neighbor’s desperation. I’m pretty sure it’s viral.
Praise the Lord that Jesus doesn’t keep a naughty list like Santa or I might get some coal in my stocking. Because, when my husband goes out of town, some elves just might drop by our house too!