Christmas Future

Work in progress

I used to love Christmas. As soon as my Thanksgiving meal was digesting, I wanted to watch all the Christmas movies, bake all the Christmas goodies, decorate all the things. 

But then, for a very long season, Christmas got hard. Christmas became a time of anxiety, living in survival mode, navigating stressful situation after stressful situation. Even after I was no longer living in that stress, I had lost my enthusiasm for Christmas. It was just a season to endure. I absolutely wanted to celebrate the birth of Christ, but I wanted nothing to do with any of the associated fanfare. I didn't have a Christmas tree for 14 years. 

But once my son was three years old, he became truly excited about Christmas. First, he was enthusiastic about decorations. So I managed to put up a wreath, a centerpiece, and a couple of festive plants on our porch. Then, he wanted to learn how to make Christmas cookies. So I obliged and he was positively elated. Then he talked me into decorating our rosemary tree. So I took him to Hobby Lobby and let him pick out the decorations. My fingers reeked of rosemary for days, but the pride he took in that tiny little tree was worth it.

Since then, I've gradually begun to add a little more Christmas to our home each year. Last year, we had a real, full-size tree in the living room for the first time.

But this year, my mom mentioned that she was going to throw out Santa unless I wanted him. I was horrified that she would even consider kicking him to the curb. My beloved grandfather cut out, assembled, and painted this life-size Santa Claus some time in the 1940s. It's been a holiday fixture my whole life and my mother's whole life. He is a little worse for wear, but the thought of him not being around at all was too much for me. I picked him up, dusted him off, wood-glued a few wobbly pieces, and stood him on my porch. 

Also, after many inquiries from our now six-year-old about when we were going to have Christmas lights on our house, we finally put Christmas lights on our house. I've been running my own household since 1999. This is literally the first time I've ever put Christmas lights up.

One night when my dear friend was on an evening walk around the neighborhood, she noticed that I was in the process of decorating. She sent me a picture of our house and wrote, "Let's take a moment to look at your healing journey. I got a little choked up when we were walking by. The tree, the vintage Santa, the wreath, outdoor lights...it needs to be recognized." 

She is on her own healing journey, and for her to recognize how much effort each one of those decorations has taken for me — I felt so seen and so validated. I couldn't help but shed a few tears. 

It’s just one more way God is restoring the years the locusts ate (Joel 2:25), and He’s doing it in the most beautiful ways.