Hello Friends:
Once again it is that time of year of “hustling and bustling” and all things “merry and bright.” The holidays are approaching quickly and I am once again reminded of holidays past. Oh the joys of getting together every year to share the holidays with the ones we love. Every year I envision the perfect holiday season, straight from the script of a Bing Crosby movie, only to have it more likely resemble the Griswold family Christmas. I look back, and remember my holidays, pre-children. Back when I literally had time on my side. Everything glistened and shined. The air was pungent with the smell of pine and Bing Crosby was playing on the stereo. Christmas villages with their tiny windows all aglow twinkled from the corners of the room and the Christmas tree was also aglow with crystal white lights, porcelain bisque seashells, crystal snowflakes and red velvet and gold wired ribbon. I had spent weeks preparing for this festive occasion. Elaborate Christmas cookies, cakes and desserts, and gourmet entrees covered our holiday table. I would set the table the night before with all our good china, silver, and crystal and then sit back, enjoy a glass of wine, Watch Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas,” and admire my handy work. Even Martha Stewart would be impressed. I would then go outside into the cool frosty air to take a few pictures of my husband’s handy work outside. He has done a splendid job. Twinkling lights, and decorations on the lawn, beckon holiday visitors. A beautiful wreath of fresh greenery, berries, and cinnamon sticks, hangs on the door and says “Welcome”. Oh come all ye faithful! I was ready to bring on the Christmas masses.
Fast forward to present day. Christmas is approaching and I’m already exhausted and filled with anxiety. Two children later, Christmas has taken on a whole new meaning. Instead of preparing days ahead of time in preparation for Christmas guests, I find myself scrambling. I’m wrapping gifts, sending out last minute Christmas cards, and doing surveillance, checking to make sure the puppy hasn’t peed on the throw rugs, making sure the four year old has clothes on, making sure the baby isn’t chewing on the Christmas tree ornaments, and checking that there are no stray guinea pig poops on my dining room floor. The gourmet holiday feast has been replaced with Chinese takeout and pot luck, and the cookies are store bought. It is during these moments that I take time to pause and reflect on the Christmases of my past and wonder if this one will be any different.
Last year, we scrimped and saved, and put a second mortgage on the house to buy presents and give our children a Christmas they would always remember. And though I swore I would never buy into retail commercialism, and vowed my children would only play with wooden toys and color books, it was instead, the Christmas of “Stinky the garbage truck”, and a dinosaur action play set complete with blood and guts accessories. Instead of spending weeks decorating Christmas cookies, I found myself running to the grocery store on Christmas Eve hoping they still had some cookies left. And instead of preparing my table and feast the night before, I was scrambling around 30 minutes before the first guest arrived, looking for a current copy of the Chinese takeout menu. Some last minute decorating was going on as well. The Christmas tree was only decorated from 2 feet off the floor up, in an attempt to keep the puppy and the cat out of it, however, the three year old had decided to do some last minute decorating of his own, and now the tree had the appearance of one that had survived a mugging. The dog helped himself to the cookies on the coffee table and since I wasn’t sure which ones he licked, the whole batch had to be thrown out and replaced. I took a deep breath and tried to remember what the true meaning of Christmas was all about, and as I peered over at my beloved nativity scene, I observed they were all lying on their sides. I looked inquisitively over at the three year old who informed me “They’re taking a nap.” I fished out a few stray Christmas tree balls that the cat had rolled under the couch and realized that I only had about 30 minutes to take a shower before my family arrived. “White Christmas” playing on the TV was replaced with twenty four hours of “A Christmas Story” and I was seriously considering opening up the bottle of wine I was saving for dinner and consuming the entire bottle myself, within the privacy of the shower.
I looked out the window into the cool frosty 28 degree air to see my poor husband, freezing his hind end off while curmudgeonly trying to recreate the Christmas masterpiece he put together 2 weeks ago. What was once a fine display of holiday twinkling splendor, now looked like a crime scene. Bits and pieces of white fabric that was once an inflatable “Frosty the Snowman,” were scattered among the remnants of candy cane fencing and bits of shrapnel that were once holiday ornaments. No one would admit to being responsible for this crime, however, the Boxer looked highly suspicious. My husband came in from the cold with a red nose and a deep wrinkle in his brow. “How’s it going honey?” I asked him. He didn’t say a word. He just got a cup of coffee and returned to the scene of the crime, this time with a ladder. It seemed the icicle lights had blown again for the third time that season, in the same spot, and of course it was on the highest peak of the house. “Just leave it.” I told him. “I can’t.” he said. “It will look like crap.” I looked out the window and surveyed the carnage in the front yard. I couldn’t help myself, and I started laughing. As if fixing the lights would make it all look better somehow. Santa looked like he’d been the victim of an assault, and there were bits of wire, and red and green fabric strewn about the flower border. I think they once were lit up Christmas presents, however now, I can’t recall.
And just like that, in a wink and a flash, it was all over. The family had come and gone and the food had been devoured. The children were nestled all snug in their beds, passed out, in a sugar coma, and having sweet dreams of all their newly acquired, battery operated joy. There were bits of shredded gift wrap and stray pieces of Chex party mix scattered everywhere, and the entire first floor of the house looked like a war torn battlefield. I felt sick from all the rich food I’d eaten, and despite the fact that there were dishes stacked 3 feet high in the kitchen sink, I just wanted to crawl upstairs, and go to bed. I looked warmly over at my husband who looked like a worn and tired war survivor. I smiled and said, “Just think baby…only 364 more days till we get to do it all again”
Yet in spite of it all, I love Christmas and all that it stands for. I am so grateful that on this day, my Lord and savior was born. I am so grateful, that because of him, I am promised salvation and eternal life. I am so grateful for my children, all the joy that they bring me, and the charm that they add to the holiday season. And despite all the hassle, I still enjoy the holidays. I still look forward to the smell of Christmas greenery, and baked goods, time spent with family and friends, and the joy and delight in the eyes of the kids on Christmas morning. And for that one special day, I too, feel like a kid again. For despite the many casualties that come with the season, I wouldn’t change a thing. Christmas is, without a doubt, one of my favorite times of year.
So… from my family to yours, I send you warm wishes and happy thoughts. May your holiday season be filled with Faith, Hope, Love, beautiful memories, and a bounty of blessings.
