I took a sick day on Monday.
But because I can’t seem to relax anymore, I poked
around under the basement stairs, found some left over paper from last
year and wrapped the few gifts I’d bought for Shaune and the kids so far.
Once wrapped, in the very opposite way Martha Stewart
might have done it, I laid them neatly under the tree, grouped together by
their intended recipients. It was my small attempt to atone for the lack of
effort I’d put into bringing the season into our home this year.
A small thrill of excitement lit through me as I
imagined the kids running through the door, notice the pile of presents, and
then excitedly ask who they were for.
What I hadn’t imagined was Naveen crying for four days
straight because I’d had to break it to him that they were not to be opened
until Christmas morning.
It stirred in me two things:
The first was sympathy for this three and a half
year-old of mine, who had with alarming grace and composure, watched his older
brother only a few days earlier, open an enormous pile of birthday gifts and
who was now expected to understand that this here pile was not to be opened
either.
And the second was a mild sense of guilt that I hadn’t
yet discussed the true meaning of Christmas with my boys this year. There’d
only been non-stop talk about what each hoped Santa would bring. And on my part
a lot of warnings that Santa would bring only socks and underwear if they didn’t
behave. What can I say? I like to make the most of an opportunity.
Mixed in with both of these sentiments was that same
old malaise I always feel around this time of year: that feeling that I’m not
so sure myself what this season is about.
Lately I’ve felt an even greater clarity that for our
family at least, Christmas is not about the birth of Jesus Christ. And it’s not
because I don’t like the story of Jesus. I like it just fine. I get that’s why
we Christians say we celebrate Christmas. I grew up Catholic after all. I teach my kids Christian values all the
time: be kind to your fellow person; treat others as you’d want them to
treat you; give to those who have less than you.
I even own a Nativity set.
I just don’t feel right about making the connection between
Christmas and Jesus’ birth. It doesn’t
make sense for our family. We don’t go to church. We don’t talk about any
orthodox religions on a regular basis in our home. There’s not a crucifix or
religious photo in sight.
The thing is, my God, the one I commune with daily,
well, he is very private. He has very little resemblance to anything I’ve read
about in the Bible. He’s a higher power I’m not sure can be attributed to religion.
I'm not even sure he's a he. A sacred and safe place inside me, for which I feel ill equipped to
explain to a six and three year old.
I like the idea of giving
as the true meaning of Christmas. But let’s face it, mostly we’re giving gifts
to each other and I’m not sure my husband needs another set of tools. And
besides, real giving, the kind we’re trying to teach the kids about, well, that’s something we talk about all year long around here.
So it occurs to me that I can tell the kids what Christmas
has been about for us and our family. A time to spend more time with their
extended family. A time to refresh their toy supply. A time to appreciate each
other. A time to decorate the house and feel festive. A time to believe in the
magic of Santa. A time to create family traditions.
When I think about it that way, I can relax and enjoy the season.
* I got the idea of the title from one of my favorite bloggers.
I don't think I'm going to get a chance to do Christmas cards this year. If I change my mind, these pictures might be contenders.
Poor Shaune's been sick as can be for the last two weeks. He put the tree up even though he could could barely stand.
Most of the ornaments are this low on our tree. Like so many moms in the same predicament, I fight my urge to spread them out.
As usual we had Deaglan's birthday party early since his real birthday is Christmas Eve. Here we are at Adventures on Wonderland.
Poor little cousin Leo - "Stop pushing on my bloody face Naveen" is what I imagine he'd say if he could talk.
As usual, Shaune kept me humble with his photography. In the photo above please note the extra roll around my hip area.
In this one I like that I look like I'm listening to my sister-in-law Chrissy while actually just stuffing my face.
And finally, just in case you didn't know that I don't have a flat stomach...here's a reminder.
We haven't discussed "the true meaning" of Christmas either, but my oldest goes to a Catholic school so I'm hoping they can explain it better than I can.
ReplyDeleteI think that's the difference Barbara, your little guys will be entrenched in those messages, it'll be right to talk about Christmas in the way it is traditionally meant to. My guys won't have that context.
ReplyDeleteMy kids didn't have much in the way of religious upbringing, and our holiday was not religious. We talked, in fact, of religious traditions from around the world, and our own religious backgrounds (mine Episcopal and Unitarian, their Dad's Catholic), and the Buddhism and Quakerism we stumbled into later in life. I'm not a theist, but I still see it as a spiritual time. I trust that all of that has lead my kids to think for themselves.
ReplyDeleteI have been struggling with this too. Not the baby Jesus connection, because I don't believe he was born on Dec 25. But the true meaning of Christmas in the sense of charity and love for our fellow man. I really want to start volunteering tradition or something so my kiddos don't think the holiday is all about getting presents. kwim?
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