No Grinches here, but let's be a tad confessional.

"I hate this time of year," one friend said recently.

Ahhhh, yes. Honesty. It ain't always a silent night, this Christmas-holiday thing.

It should be. Perhaps it once was.

And my friend?

She's a superstar mom, one of the most loving and generous people I know. Saint, not Scrooge. But she's admitting something others are also whispering: it grinds you down, this season.

Why? It's roots aren't exhausting, but redeeming. The story of a tiny baby born in a barn with shepherds nearby is essentially an agrarian story. Yet, it has been hijacked into a mountainous pressure cooker of shopping, obligations and Santa.

Christmas is too often served overcooked in America.

Yes, of course: there are moments of sweetness that only happen at Christmas.

But you have to go against the stream to find them. If you float along in the lazy river of Christmas culture, you end up exhausted and hungover.

Are my friend and I alone in this? Do others feel it, too?

So, on Christmas Eve, we're glad to offer a tiny piece of wisdom from that Kentucky Jedi, Wendell Berry.

"We need the experience of leaving something alone," he writes in The Unsettling of America.

Not a Christmas essay, but instead, he was writing about our approach to the land and wilderness. Can we position ourselves as secondary, humble, able to be acted upon instead of always acting?

We need those places.

"Places that we accept as influences on us, not the other way around," he wrote.  

These are always quiet places. Here, silent night is standard.

When I shift this way inside, it feels like a bit of a removal from the machine. I let Christmas find me, instead of the other way around.

I learn to leave it all — the pressure, obligations, rush-rush mess — alone. A more genuine form of Christmas now has a runaway, albiet small, from which to launch.

Sometimes, it's as simple as holding hands around the table.

Or an email.

Not long ago, Luke Stepney knocked on my inbox with this:

"My partner, Kenny Bell, and I are providing a home-cooked meal for the homeless on 11th Street this Christmas Eve," he wrote. "We're hoping to spread the word."

The two friends and graduates of Boyd Buchanan School — shout-out to Melissa Owens — are serving food today on East 11th Street.

Why? How?

Luke's a pre-vet major at University of Tennessee at Martin; Kenneth, biology and pre-med at Coker Univ. in South Carolina.

When they return home on breaks, they meet up and discuss goals: personal, professional, spiritual.

This year, they decided to spend Christmas differently.

The pair partnered with Blue Orleans and The Chatt. Foundation to prepare a Christmas Eve meal for 200 folks.

The event starts at 11.30 am today.

Luke says it represents where he wants to go in this life.

"A mindset of building, serving and creating opportunities for others," he wrote.

Hopefully, this event will become part of our city's Christmas story. Thanks, Luke and Kenneth.

• Looking ahead to next week?

On New Year's Eve, Easy Bistro, Main Street Meats and Little Coyote will all be open.

The folks at Easy will offer a special New Year's Eve menu, with white truffles, caviar and a chef's tasting menu.

On Jan. 1, Main Street Meats and Little Coyote will open, with MSM serving some Hoppin' John and collard greens.

Start 2026 off right, or say goodbye to 2025, with a meal at one of Chattanooga's Michelin-awarded restaurants.

• Still shopping?

Consider a donation to FeedNooga, one of our favorite new nonprofits.

Our Sunday story profiled Brea and Morgan, who are cooking warm, rich meals out of a duplex apartment kitchen for families across the city.

A gift in honor or memory of someone would be well-received by them.

Another gift idea?

As a writer, I have to recommend the most entertaining, can't-put-down book of my 2025.

Joe Hill's King Sorrow.

If you like dragons, PG-13 horror and a 1,000-page epic that touches on modern foreign policy, the rise of caustic Internet culture and genuine friendship, well, my friends, this is your book.

Joe Hill is Stephen King's son. More honesty: I like his writing better.

Plus, King Sorrow gives an entirely new meaning to Internet trolls.

Amazon may not get it here in time, but your friends at locally-owned Book & Cover have copies.

Most of all, regardless of whatever tomorrow brings, you've got three folks — well, five actually — here in your corner.

We're grateful for you. Wishing you all the best Dec. 25 ever.

Story ideas, questions, feedback? Interested in partnering with us? Email: david@foodasaverb.com

This story is 100% human generated; no AI chatbot was used in the creation of this content.

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