Where Are You Christmas?

When I was little, I absolutely loved Christmas. I loved all of the lights, the presents topped with bows, indulging my sweet tooth with cookies and candy. I would spend weeks writing my Christmas list. Making sure I didn't forget a dress or a doll I desperately needed. Christmas Eve was my favorite. My brother, Paul, and I would stay up as late as we could and talk about what we thought (or knew sometimes) we were getting. Bright and early we would rise and race downstairs to a pile of presents.

But one year, everything changed. I was 16 and my family and I had enjoyed a great Christmas together. The next day, I went to the mall with my best friend. The common theme of conversation amongst all of our friends was, "what did you get for Christmas?" I realized that I really didn't know how to answer that question. Sure, I could just say I got the clothes and boots I had wanted, but it felt weird talking about what I got. It didn't feel right. It felt icky. And that same icky feeling followed me through every other Christmas. Suddenly it felt strange making a Christmas list. I felt awkward getting what I wanted. And I continued to dread that question- "what did you get for Christmas?" I wanted to go back to the lights and bows and candy canes.

I got my love for Christmas back after I had kids. It seemed like the more kids I had, the more I loved Christmas. Because I got to see the joy that I had lost through the eyes of my children. Lights seemed brighter, cookies tasted sweeter, and the thrill of seeing them open a new doll or legos on Christmas morning was a welcome friend.

I've been playing Christmas music for the past 2 months. Our Christmas tree is up, presents are wrapped and under the tree. But that icky feeling is creeping in. I've been feeling this pressure to get my kids an enormous amount of presents. Whatever they want, I want to give it to them. We're no different than most people these days, and money is tight. Realistically, I can only get them one special present a piece (along with the things they always get like books and new shoes.) So I started to think about what my favorite present was when I was their age. And it hit me- the expensive doll I just had to have has long since been donated to good will. The clothes, the shoes have been sold at garage sales years ago. It really didn't matter what I got for Christmas. The joy I found in Christmas, the sheer bliss of lights and snow and hot chocolate, was all wrapped up in the memories. I can't remember what my Christmas presents were every year, but what I do remember is sitting on the living room floor with my mom singing Christmas carols. I remember decorating gingerbread houses and acting out the story of baby Jesus with our friends, the Morgans. That's why I loved Christmas. I've underestimated the simplicity of Christmas and replaced it with the ickiness of presents and things. So this Christmas I'm focusing on the things that don't get thrown away or lost or donated. I'm focusing on the birth of Christ, making gingerbread houses with my kids, warming my toes by a crackling fire. Those precious memories are something no amount of money can buy. And that's when Christmas comes and shines bright- replacing the wants and needs with Joy.