When it comes to the Christmas season, I like to think that I maintain a fairly even-keeled approach. I try not to put loads of pressure on myself to make memories and start traditions and create Hallmark moments.
My husband and I do our best to keep Jesus at the center of our celebrations, and I make a point to keep a loose hold on any presumptions about who can or cannot be with us on Christmas Day. In fact, when we became parents about 10 years ago, I vowed that I was not going to put any pressure on our extended family to plan their Christmases around us. I was going to roll with the holiday punches, so to speak, and cultivate an easy-breezy approach to a time of year that can err on the side of chaos. But then all my laid-back intentions slammed rightinto the Christmas season of 2009.
A Perfect Storm
In retrospect, I was sitting smackdab in the middle of a perfect storm for holiday disappointment. I turned 40 a couple of months before Thanksgiving, and in an effort to be low maintenance and keep my expectations in check, I downplayed the occasion to the point that we really didn't celebrate it at all. My husband and son tried their best to make my 40th special, but by late afternoon I'd changed into my pajamas and spent the rest of the big day watching college football while I folded clothes. It was fine, of course, and truth be told, I got exactly what I asked for. But make no mistake: I rolled into my 40s with a big ole whimper. And then there was Thanksgiving.
We normally host at our house, but since my brother was days away from turning 50, we'd all agreed to just meet in Memphis, Tenn., a week later for his birthday party. That meant that we essentially had no Thanksgiving plans, and while I tried to anticipate the absence of family on that day (I invited every person I could possibly think of), everyone had somewhere else to go. I reminded myself that there are no guarantees for having a house full of people for a holiday, and as I half-smiled my way through a Thanksgiving meal with no extended family or friends around our table, I comforted myself with one repeated assurance: Christmas will be better.
A Christmas to Remember
So, yeah. About that. A couple of weeks before Christmas, it became increasingly clear that the plans, they were changing. We found out that my parents were going to be with another branch of the family. My brother, sister, and their families were spoken for, too, and we didn't have any flexibility on our end because of work schedules, so traveling wasn't an option for us. A few days before Christmas, I started to have that sinking feeling. The realization that our living room wasn't going to be bustling with the merriment of family slowly settled in. And while I knew that the whole point of the season was Jesus and not, you know, preparing a lovely dinner for 18, I was just plain ole bummed, for lack of a better word.
And listen. I would love to tell you that Christmas 2009 ended up being our best one ever, and that by the time we ate our Christmas dinner I was overflowing with gratitude because I totally underestimated what a special day it would be for our little family. But I can't tell you any of those things. Because the reality was that I missed my people like crazy. And while I kept reminding myself about Jesus' birth and the real Gift, I was sad. I told myself that there were far worse holiday scenarios — I wasn't dealing with a loved one's death or illness or abandonment — but the fact remained that my mental image of what Christmas Day should be like was at odds with that year's Christmas reality.
Perspective
It wasn't my finest hour, but in the weeks that followed, I can honestly say that my sadness started to shift into something that had been woefully absent for the last few months of 2009: Perspective. And that's where God is just so sweet to all of us, you know? Because no matter what we're dealing with during the holidays — or at any time in our lives, now that I think about it — God faithfully teaches us deep lessons about His character and His love. Even when it hurts and we cry and we feel lonely and we wish our circumstances were different, we really can trust God to transform our perspective.
And as our perspective shifts, we start to see glimpses of how He's always working out circumstances for His glory and for our good. It's just like 2 Corinthians 1:3-4 says: "Praise the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and the God of all comfort. He comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any kind of affliction, through the comfort we ourselves receive from God."
As it turned out, Christmas history repeated itself in 2012. We celebrated Christmas Day without any of our extended family around us, but do you know what? It was wonderful. We deliberately planned a couple of activities that got us out of our house and face-to-face with folks who needed some encouragement. I repeatedly asked the Lord to prepare my heart and my mind so that I could maybe even see the blessing of December 25th being a little bit less chaotic than what I typically prefer.
And when our extended family finally arrived at our house on the 27th, I felt recharged and ready to love on 'em like crazy.
This article is courtesy of ParentLife Magazine.