Reclaiming A Meaningful Christmas

It’s a warm and balmy 70 degrees. My children are what feels like a million miles away at their homes in Idaho, possibly making snow angels or catching snowflakes on their tongue. And I am cozily nestled in my writing nook, savoring the sound of rustling leaves as the breeze dances through the trees outside my open window. It is Christmas Day and I am spending it in chosen solitude. There was talk of plans with friends for the holiday; food, movies, what have you, but my month has been full of traveling, adventures, birthday celebrations, toffee making and other festivities, with a few more parties coming up, so I decided to just take the day and be. No promises, no commitments, definitely no cooking. And it’s given me the luxury of time for reflection. 

I am a Christmas girl. Through and through.

I don’t have a single memory of Thanksgiving growing up. Not one. As an adult I’ve never really cared for it much either, although I’ve shared lovely moments cooking with my children, family and friends. Thanksgiving was always more of a gateway holiday to Christmas, which has been my favorite as far back I can see. My mother became happy and hopeful and she was never happy and hopeful. The house was filled with tinsel and magic and endless possibilities. It was extra special to my young girl heart because my birthday was a week before Christmas and we would decorate the tree then, as if it were just for me. Oftentimes, I got the short straw for presents because nobody could afford both birthday and Christmas and I never got a cake, but somehow that was all okay too, because I still grew up loving my birthdays. I don’t remember Christmas being about the presents, although I recall vividly the year there was a guitar for me under the tree. I just remember the world feeling wonderful and whimsical. I remember that blissful feeling of believing in something. And it wasn’t Santa. I remember knowing that Christmas was about service, giving and sharing. That must have come from my mother, that beautiful intrinsic goodness in her that she had a hard time finding the rest of the year because it was buried beneath the rubble of brokenness, mental illness and pain. Christmas was like a portal, some kind of miracle time machine, where she read us stories and her hazel eyes lit up like twinkle lights. I think that is the closest I ever came to understanding what my mother might have been like as a child. Those feelings all stirred together were the enchanted elixir that carried me through the difficult times. So I inhaled them deeply and held them in as long as I could. 

The saddest thing I hear throughout the month of December is that people hate Christmas or they’ll be glad when it’s over. They dread the obligatory family visits, the inevitable arguing and the greed, they detest the commercialism and expectations. Then all the magic and the wonder that is Christmas gets lost in the unrealistic ideals. Ideals that don’t even belong to us. I decided a long time ago that I wasn’t going to let anything ruin my holiday. I was a young mom once with small children and lots of family that pulled at our time and attention or wanted to shower the kids with too many presents and activities. We struggled with finances, time and energy. It was up to me to be protective, intentional and make boundaries. That meant slowing down and deciding what I wanted and what I didn’t. It required paying attention to what worked for our family, especially when a divorce was thrown in the mix. As our children grew and our family expanded we learned to adapt and flow with the circumstances, which was such an important skill when our children had families and partners of their own. I always knew one thing, I wanted the essence of Christmas to be simple and fulfilling. Yes, like now, we loved the gifts, the wrapping, the fun little surprises and especially the stockings, but it wasn’t about the money. I wanted my kids to remember the way they felt, not the things they got. I wanted them to experience seeing the look on someone’s face who got a gift when they were expecting nothing, whether it was a widow or a needy family that we took under our wing. I wanted my daughters to carry a deep sense of joy from giving and service. Everything else was window dressing. That has served them well as adults. 

New Year’s Eve is right around the corner which means all of our obligatory resolutions are bubbling to the surface, maybe even some unfinished ones from 2015, and it’s got me thinking about what’s really important. Do me a favor and just take a moment, close your eyes and ask yourself this….how did your last 6 weeks feel? If it was everything you wanted then go ahead and learn that new language or lose that pandemic pooch, or whatever lofty resolution you want. But if your spirit fell flat or you’re drowning in exhaustion right now, ask yourself what was missing from your holiday. Did you feel nurtured and loved by the people you spent your time with?  What were your stress levels like? Were you shopping the week before Christmas when you wanted to be home making cookies? Did you have time to watch holiday movies that you love or were you too busy finishing your to-do list? Are there family members that you would like to not see every year, or ever again? Here’s a secret, we don’t have to say yes to everything, in fact, we can say no to anything we want. That’s right. 

Stop saying yes to shit you want to say no to. 

Yes, you’re allowed to do that. This is your one and only freaking life and this time and these holidays belong to you. Full Stop. You don’t have to love it like I do, but please, please don’t let somebody else suck all the joy out of it for you. You can create the Christmas that you want. Let go of the pressure, change the expectations and take a good look around because there are plenty of ways for you to give back and lean into the beauty of this holiday. There is so much good to be done and so many happy things to take part in that have nothing to do with forced or self-imposed obligations. I promise. Do you really want to spend a month to six weeks dreading and hating an entire season? Do you really want credit card debt that you’re going to be paying off until next Christmas for presents that no one remembers? Wouldn’t you rather create something meaningful that you can enjoy? Even if it means saying no to nosy Aunt Martha or your insistent mother-in-law. Or taking a family vacation instead of buying gifts. Or refusing visitors until another day, that is not Christmas, so your family can have some peace and quiet.  You’re even allowed to take yourself off the family gift-giving list and decline politely with no explanation, while drinking a glass of eggnog. Spiked eggnog. You are entirely allowed to not open your home to anything or anyone that does not provide you with the energy that you desire. That’s a big one for me. My peace matters to me and I am fiercely protective of it, so if you can’t get on board with that, or your vibe is off then you don’t get to spend time in my space.

The point is, don’t let anybody else steal your joy. For Christmas. For Life. For Anything. 

It’s easy to pack away your holiday decorations along with all the stresses and the reminders of how miserable you’ve been and forget about them. Then next year rolls around, you’re knee-deep in Christmas drama again and you have no idea how to redirect your holiday and make the madness stop. So if you start now, while it’s fresh in your memory, you can make a resolution that you want more peace and then you can start creating a plan for how that looks. And whether it’s just you or your immediate family, you can use this opportunity to take some steps toward creating boundaries that you’ve been unable to meet. Those steps will become practices that you will do again and again until you’re comfortable with them. And before you know it you’re going to get the holiday that you want and deserve. You can expect push back if you have a family that’s in any way demanding, and that’s okay because you’ll be sure of yourself by then and you’ll be able to honor the new boundaries that you’ve made. Merry Christmas and here’s to a peace filled New Year with holidays that you love.