I have a confession. I'm kind of mad at Christmas. Before you get all cranky with me, let me break down my bah-humbug.
First, there was something about Christmas every year as an adult that was such a precious moment. It was walking through the front door of my parents' home. Their home was always beautifully decorated, smelled divine, and had Christmas music floating through the air. But those are not the things that I miss most. I miss the joy of coming home. Being greeted by my parents with open arms and pure love. I no longer have that experience. Though Christmas is more than that, it is loss for me.
Second, only two of the four sisters' families will be gathered for Christmas. In years past it has been three or four of us gathered together. For my kids, for whom "cousins" is the greatest word in the English language, it will be a decidedly smaller gathering this year. And another little loss.
Third, and probably the most disappointing: it's not that I don't like Christmas, it's that I don't like the way I do christmas. The busy. The fretting. The intent to focus on Jesus without the follow through. Too many things I want. Too much money spent. It's like it has become an opportunity to get and give things, rather than an opportunity to worship. And that makes me really sad.
I read
this post from Ann Voskamp, and my heart cried out "YES!!!!!" while simultaneously crying out "NO!!!!!" How can I teach my children to celebrate the Giver, not the gifts, when I am honestly not sure that their mother does?
As usual, there is a bit of a war going on inside of me. I am trying to get into the spirit. The real Christmas spirit. We decorated our home for Christmas...
being sure to pull out the nativity last and set it up together.
I have prayed over the names on my gift-giving list while shopping for them, hoping that my focus will be on their hearts instead of their present.
We have tried to beef up our Advent activities at dinner but with only minimal success.
I just keep needing to remind myself that life is not about making memories but about making disciples. Though I am called to do that with my children, I need to do that with myself first. I stumbled across a real-life example the other day that may be a breakthrough in a worshipful Christmas season for me this year. While walking out the front door, I stumbled upon this...
Yes, that's baby Jesus out in the snow. We were playing a game of "Hide the Santa" (kind of like The Elf on the Shelf). Only, in true Kollar form, we couldn't find the Santa from last year. So I suggested we hide baby Jesus. I intended for us to talk about ways we "hide" Jesus in our lives, but (also true to form) I forgot. One of my sneaky kids must have hidden him outside, so proud that no one would find him there. And no one did. Until days later when I was headed out for busyness and BAM! There He was. Outside of our home and Christmas celebration. Not at all where I want the real Jesus to be.
And so I put him in my pocket. All day long, I would reach in for my gloves and I would feel him, which would cause me to feel HIM. Jesus in my pocket reminded me of Jesus in my life. Jesus in my gift-giving. Jesus in my grieving. Jesus in my everything. Because Jesus is my everything.
Jesus is not meant to be kept in a pocket. He ever be contained like that. He's actually not meant to be a little plastic toy either. But I am hopeful that this experience will help me to experience the real Jesus really this Christmas. The King of kings and the Lord of lords. My King and my Lord. And that's the merriest part of any Christmas.
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