Advent Reflections: Grace and Bling

Unfortunately, Nordstrom has sold out
of their sandals. But if you think the man
 in your life would LOVE a little bling,
 these can be purchased at Neiman- Marcus.

I’ve long considered laughter one of God’s best gifts to people. In my Advent reading, I discovered Ann Voskamp feels much the same way. In fact, she calls laughter “oxygenated grace,” and I agree it's exactly that. How else could we survive all this Earth-generated insanity without moments of  belly-holding, tears-flowing exuberance? 

For about a week, I’d been planning this post, thinking about what poignant and insightful thoughts I could share on the subject. I fear I was headed toward a post that was more likely to evoke tears of boredom than tears of laughter, but then my daughter Kristin called. Fortunately for you, my plans changed. While I hope you see this as more of an offering of “oxygenated grace” than an opportunity for Grammy Dee to tell about her precious grandsons, in reality it might be a bit of both.

Kristin called to tell me about going Christmas shopping with seven-year-old Brooks. (Yes, Master Brooks is seven now!) On a mission to pick out a present for his dad, she and Brooks somehow ended up in the high-dollar section of Nordstrom—the section with designer clothes bearing designer price tags. Before Kristin figured out her mistake, Brooks had already zeroed in on the perfect gift for his dad. “Oh, wow, Dad will LOVE these!” (Brooks hardly ever lacks for enthusiasm.) He picked up a black leather sandal, all blinged out with gold studs.

Kristin could only stare, struck speechless by the disconnect between her son’s perception of his dad’s fashion sense and the actual thing. Among the statements she could make with certainty about Brad, “Bling is not his thing,” would be a near the top. How could she explain that his dad would appreciate a pair of black leather, gold-studded sandals about as much as he would a new pony? Fortunately, the problem solved itself when Brooks turned the shoe over and saw the price tag, for while he might be enthusiastic he is also practical. 

“FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS FOR A PAIR OF SANDALS?!!!” His astonishment resonated throughout the entire first floor. But not easily daunted, he moved on to another pair of shoes he was sure his dad would “LOVE!!!” A pair of designer red suede sneakers. 

Kristin determined that this store was clearly not going to fulfill their shopping requirements, so she ushered Brooks down the mall to Dillard’s where—his enthusiasm in no way daunted—he wasted no time picking out some more perfect gifts: a snow globe or a shiny gold cocktail plate. Once again, he assured Kristin his dad would “LOVE!!!” them. 

At that point, Kristin saw this shopping expedition was going nowhere and suggested they meet up with Brad and Bennett, who were happily ensconced outside the Hickory Farms store scarfing down popcorn. Five-year-old Bennet had finished his Christmas shopping many days before at his preschool, where he and his classmates had purchased minimally-priced gifts from among items donated by parents. (Think white elephant sale.) 

Brooks was not happy about this halt to his endeavors. I mean, a guy’s enthusiasm can stretch only so far. He’d made several wonderful suggestions only to have his picky mother veto them for no good reason. 

Back at their house, the Christmas tree is still lacking a gift from Brooks to his dad, but thanks to Bennett, Brad is not giftl-ess. Nor is he bling-less. Kristin has it on good word—from Bennett—that come Christmas morning, Brad will be the proud owner of a shiny gold chain.

I’m sure he’s going LOVE it! 

In Defense of Elf on the Shelf

                Something has been bothering me this holiday season, and while I can’t right all the injustices in the world, I can take a stand on at least one. Quit picking on Elf on the Shelf. 

            I haven’t always felt this way. In fact, I used to find Elf-boy annoying. He seemed a bit Eddie Haskell-ish to me. (If you don’t know who Eddie Haskell is, this blog is probably not age-appropriate for you, but here's a link to help.) When I first saw Elf-boy on a Facebook post a couple of years ago, I breathed a huge sigh of relief—not for the first time—that there were no longer youngsters in my household. I looked on the elf as just one more self-inflicted pressure for mothers to add to their already over-taxed lives. As if the holidays aren’t hectic enough, now—along with shopping, baking, decorating, party-hosting...—mothers must think of original locations to place Elf-boy, clever ways to pose him, and entertaining stories of how he got in said place and position. For proof, go here. If that doesn't convince you, try here.

            Don’t think for a minute I’m judging today’s moms. My sympathy is real. We had our own version of Mommy Olympics back in the ‘80s, and I threw myself headlong into the competition. I still shudder to think of the guilt participants faced if we failed to acquire the must-have Christmas toy of the year (think waaay over-priced Cabbage Patch doll), to throw the most unique birthday party (think backyard beach “ball” in the middle of Oklahoma), or to “assist” with the best Thanksgiving project (think 6,000 assorted beans glued on a giant turkey poster). The saving grace for mothers of my generation, however, was we didn’t have the added responsibility of sharing our accomplishments—or failures—with half the world on Facebook or Pinterest. And we didn’t have Elf-boy.

            This year I’ve noticed Elf-boy’s fame turning to infamy. All of a sudden, it is popular to tag him with labels such as “creepy” and “tattle-tale” and to insist you’re glad you never bought into the whole elf frenzy in the first place. (Like I’d believe that.)  Some so-called experts have even accused him of traumatizing innocent little darlings and turning them into compliant victims of a “panoptic surveillance” society. Huh?

            Frankly, I think these mean-spirited accusations are a bit over the top and this name-calling borders on bullying. Furthermore, the piling-on is unwarranted. Sure, Elf-boy is annoying, but really, what has he done that’s so terrible? Unlike certain celebrities whose defrockings are the result of their own bad behavior, Elf-boy is simply a victim of his own popularity and, I suspect, frazzled mothers pushed to their limit. His intentions are honorable. All he wants to do is remind children to be on their best behavior and to make a few million bucks in the process. But as often happens with climbs to fame that are meteoric, they fizzle just as fast. Elf-boy's decline will be quick, and soon he will be as obsolete as a Rubik’s Cube Christmas tree ornament. For that reason, I can’t help but feel a little sorry for him. I hope he’s taking consolation in laughing all the way to the bank.

From the expression on his face, I don't think Elf-boy is taking 
recent criticism too hard.