The Most Wonderful Time of the Year?

I have a confession to make.  Christmas is not my favorite time of the year.  There.  I said it.  In some strange way it almost feels blasphemous.  Will others consider me not to be a true Christian because I don't approach the season that celebrates the birth of our Savior with great joy and anticipation?  However, I've been trying this new approach to life where I have to be honest with myself, so there you have it. Out in the open for all the world to see. 

Why don't I love Christmas more than any other time?  I ask myself this question every year as the season approaches and I begin to feel my chest tighten.  Like so many issues, I suppose it began in my childhood.  Christmas at my house was a season of stress, anxiety, and disappointment.  My mother's mantra was "Let's just get through the holidays."  This time of year was to be endured rather than enjoyed.  I was greatly influenced by her attitude. While my friends were enjoying fabulous family vacations and opening all of the presents I was wishing for, but would never receive, I was counting the days until we could go back to school and get on with life.

After I got married and realized that Christmas was my husband's favorite time of year, I was determined to make our first holiday season together as perfect as possible.  And it was pretty perfect.  A beautiful tree, decorations everywhere, and lots of great presents.  We managed to spend time with each of our families and everyone seemed happy. Maybe Christmas wasn't so bad after all.

Eighteen months later my mother suddenly died and I found myself drowning in an ocean of grief and pain.  Nothing would ever be the same.  A little black cloud hung over every holiday and special occasion for the next several years.  My husband desperately tried to help me cope.  "We need to develop our own traditions," he would say.  And so I would try to celebrate, but most of the time I was simply numb. 

A couple of years later our first child was born shortly before the beginning of the holiday season.  She was the most extraordinary gift I had ever received.  I told myself that I needed to genuinely embrace Christmas in light of the little blessing that had come into my life.  There were still some tears, but I really tried to enjoy our baby's first Christmas to the fullest.  Another baby's first Christmas came three years later with the arrival of our second daughter.  Somehow I managed to survive.

Motherhood pushed my perfectionistic nature to higher heights than I'd ever experienced.  The most painful manifestation of this always came during the holidays.  The decorations, the food, the presents... it all needed to be absolutely perfect for my family.  Combine this with my intense desire to please others, and you have an emotional disaster just waiting to happen.  Which parties to attend + where to spend Christmas Eve + where to spend Christmas day = stressed and overwhelmed mommy!  My sweet husband spent each year trying to hold us all together while I fell apart.

Just when I was beginning to feel like I was recovering from the loss of my mother, my father died. Constant waves of grief and pain all over again.  I lost him a couple of months before Christmas that year and, once again, I knew that nothing would ever be the same.  My dad had always seemed to enjoy Christmas and would try to lighten things up in spite of Mom's attitude.  He would bring home chocolate-covered orange sticks and cordial cherries to share.  He loved singing Christmas carols and was so proud of me when I learned to play them on the piano.  Each Christmas Eve he would read the story of Jesus' birth from the book of Luke and then recite "The Night Before Christmas" before tucking me into bed. How could there be Christmas without my dad?  I struggled once more to create the perfect holiday in hopes that it would chase away the hurt. It didn't.

Each year I would put on a brave face and work hard to endure the holidays.  I was pretty successful... until two years ago.  I had lost my job that year and we were in financial dire straits. I knew that my teenagers were wishing for all of the expensive, electronic gadgets that their friends were sure to get. Meanwhile I was just hoping there would be something for them to open on Christmas morning.  At the end of a very long week filled with school concerts and activities, I had the melt-down to top all melt-downs.  (Did I mention that my hubby is a music teacher and Christmas is his busiest time of year?)  Anyway, all of the stress and frustration came pouring out of me in one long, crazy, awful tantrum in front of my husband and children.  I ranted on and on about all the reasons I didn't like Christmas, how I was tired of pretending, and how I wasn't sure I could bear any sort of celebration that year.  After I was done and I saw the horrified expressions on the faces of my children, I immediately began to apologize and try to repair the damage I had done.  Rather than judge me, my precious daughters put their arms around me and told me that they loved me.  They said that they didn't realize Christmas was so hard for me and they offered to do whatever they could to make it easier.  My husband smiled at me and told me it was going to be okay.  

After taking a couple of days to process everything that had happened, I realized that I had a choice to make.  Either continue on with this exhausting pattern of behavior or learn how to really enjoy Christmas.  Since enjoyment beats exhaustion, I chose the latter.  I went to the public library and checked out a stack of Christmas stories.  I watched every Christmas movie and television special I could find.  I listened to Christmas music as much as possible.  I gave up all of my expectations for a perfect holiday, and I vowed to do only the stuff I really like.  I stopped worrying about each gift and focused more on the fun traditions that we had established over the years.  No more agonizing over family pictures and that annoying Christmas letter to include with the Christmas cards.  I made a conscious decision to change my focus and I felt myself breathe in the true spirit of Christmas.

I still have my challenging "moments"... like whenever I hear Dad's favorite Christmas carol or when I set out the nativity that Mom gave me.  But approaching the Christmas season no longer fills my heart with dread.  While we were decorating our tree the other night I heard my youngest daughter say, "I just love Christmas."  Joy and gratitude filled my heart.  No, it's still not my most favorite, but it's in my top three!