It gets harder every year. With every season that passes, life gets busier. There’s more to do, more to deal with, more chores that need to be done, more activities that kids need to be shuttled to and from, more stress at work.
It gets harder every year. Gifts and gadgets on Christmas wish lists are more techy and more expensive. With family becoming more spread out, it’s harder to stay close and to know what is the right present for the right person. Commercial Christmas songs ring out and decorations appear in the stores earlier and earlier, starting the treadmill of the season in motion.
It gets harder every year. Every year, I feel like I’m slipping further and further away from the joy of Christmas time. Instead, the preparations become a whirlwind of activity to “get through”. There’s fewer and fewer hours to accomplish what feels like a self-renewing to-do list. It gets harder every year. The Christmas I want to create is slipping further from my grasp. There was a time in my life when Christmas and other family holidays were ones of home-made memories.
Today, reality is very different. Store-bought cookies go to kids’ events. Sweaters and pyjamas are made by machines instead of my hands. Volunteering has largely been replaced with a more-than-full-time job. Pizza or other frozen options take the place of from-scratch meals more often than I’d like. And the days when birds flocked to feeders in the back yard are long gone.
The early days of December have become something to dread, not something to savour. I hate that. And so December has also become a time to feel sorry for myself. Because it wasn’t supposed to be this way. But it is, and I always manage to pull myself together by the time Christmas week rolls around.
This morning, in fact, I was jolted out of my “festivus” malaise by a pair of young children. They were learning a valuable lesson from their parents about giving at Christmas. They were learning that Christmas isn’t about crass commercialism and how much stuff they could get – or give. So what could they give? Together, they decided to give of their talents.
So on the fourth Sunday of Advent, with the candles flickering at the front of the church, these little ones shared their budding love of music with us. It was the wonderful tentative piano playing of those relatively new to it. The youngest was so tiny, those of us in the choir loft couldn’t see her head over the top of the music. Her brother, just a bit older, concentrated hard to play the chords in his selection.
As we all smiled and applauded for what they had shared with us, I had a light bulb moment. I was probably not the only one. This was a clear reminder to focus on simplicity and joy of those around me. Forget about the “perfect” Christmas and all its pressures. Forget about what it “should” be and just enjoy what “is”.
When I woke up today, I had nothing but lists in my head and anxiety about how to cross off their contents. But this morning, two little children reminded me what Christmas is all about.
