My husband’s affection for me is regularly put to the test by the right lane of Poplar Avenue. I spend a lot of my life in the driver’s seat, so when he’s around, I’m happy to let him do the work of navigating Memphis traffic from behind the wheel.

However, “Efficient” is his middle name, and the right lane of Poplar represents everything an efficient Memphian loves about life. Folks like me do whatever we can to stay out of that lane. But for Jim, all that openness is like a subconscious magnet. He doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. Yet there we are once again, with nothing but a breath between us and the telephone poles — all in the name of efficiency. 

Wrap it up: A local buyer’s gift guide

It’s easy to see — with the naked eye — that the right lane is too skinny for the modern American minivan (if there is such a thing as a “modern” minivan), and the poor sad soul in the passenger’s seat must resist the urge to flinch every two to three seconds, which makes good conversation or even a hearty sing-along very challenging.

Those wooden poles are coming at us one by one, a steady threat to every side mirror in Memphis. If somehow our mirrors come out unscathed, then surely we’ve been driven to carsickness by the up-and-down dance of the drains in the ground. It’s a tough ride in that lane. 

But at least the recent paving was a gift. On a couple of occasions, I’ve found myself waiting for the light to change at Mendenhall Road or Tillman Street and brainstorming what the City could do to create a little elbow room on Poplar. Alas, it would take upending our whole major thoroughfare. And of course that seems daunting. “Upending” is not really what Memphis needs right now. So, the vast majority of us hang out in the left two lanes while those willing to play the odds cruise through town on the right. 

Lights — and questions — pop at Olive Branch Christmas display

Bless the right-lane-dwellers. They’re made of something special. 

Despite my love for left-lane-living, Christmas is one time of year when I’m tempted towards efficiency at all costs. There’s just so much to get done. The calendar, the school parties — second only to the school programs, mind you — the friend parties, the family plans, the church festivities, the neighborhood gatherings, the long-standing traditions, the caroling, the food, the decorations, the tree, and — heaven help us — the gifts.

As if we need more stuff.

It’s too much for one person — or even one family — to accomplish while maintaining some semblance of Christmas cheer. But, every year round about this time, I find myself dashing at breakneck speed down the right lane of Poplar, my to-do list ever-growing on my phone as I scramble and scurry to make the magic happen. Productivity becomes the name of the game in December, and for me, that sucks the nectar right out of good living. 

Whitehaven raises funds to replace ‘Charlie Brown’ Christmas tree

This time of year, what I long for is the opportunity to reflect and celebrate. A sunrise spent drinking coffee in my yellow wingback with the Psalms in my lap suggests that, mercifully, fresh starts are available on the regular. An afternoon spent dancing to Pentatonix with my family as we bake cookies with no clock ticking in the background — that’s good Christmas-ing from where I sit. A winter evening spent taking in the depth and breadth of the night sky reminds my heart that this whole big story that’s happening in time and space is not about me — and what a relief that is! And a Christmas Eve spent singing songs like “Silent Night” with nothing but candlelight reflecting off the faces of my church family? That’s all it takes to make up my favorite holy moment of the year. 

At this point in the article, my husband Jim is nervous that he and his “Efficiency Guild” might get thrown under the bus. Heavens no! We are all aware that without the people who get things done in a timely manner, Memphis — and all of America — would still just be somebody’s good idea.

But for me, the art of slow living (to borrow a phrase from a friend) creates space for Christmas to settle into my soul. Words like “cheer” and “merry” and “bright” are printed on big bolts of wrapping paper. But adulthood has taught me nothing that can be wrapped will fully satisfy. And that is a de-pressing realization when it first hits home. If the stuff in the boxes — the stuff I flew up and down Poplar looking so frantically for — won’t satisfy, what will?

Arlington High students’ designs chosen for National Christmas Tree

And that’s where the Truth of Christmas comes in. 

It’s where the stars and the Psalms and the dancing and the holiness all find their place. It’s what traditions and festivities so often flow from. It’s why we bother with candles and singing and church at all. It’s who the real Gift is. And thanks be to God, the Christmas present of knowing him is one that’s open to every single soul cruising up and down Poplar Avenue — no matter which lane they prefer. 

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Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls.

Matthew 11:28-29

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