Different. Weird. And Good.
I can’t begin to count how many times this Christmas season I have paused and just felt grateful.
Looked around and thought, “How beautiful.” Maybe even whispered it out loud. Or whispered, also out loud - to God, "Thank You.” It’s happened many times.
I’ve learned so much as the years of my life have passed: About life itself, and about my own self.
For me, this past Christmas really felt like Christmas. That alone made me feel grateful, because I can’t always say that. Many times, when it finally arrives, I find myself rushing around… running off to whatever Christmas Eve holds, or moving through what’s left of Christmas Day once all the presents have been opened… and needing to consciously remind myself: This really is it.
But this year? Not so.
Did the difference in the way I felt this year have to do with the weather? The truly frigid temperatures. The thin dusting of snow, frozen to a sparkling gleam atop the curves of the bright red velvet bows securing boughs of fresh evergreen beneath our windows. Their century-old panes, framing the most beautiful live Frasier Fir we have chosen in years, completely frosted over; softening the glow of 1,200 lights in a way that no store-bought thing could come close to replicating. I know that, at least partially, this did play a part in making it feel like Christmas. Because even though such a relatively rare occurrence throughout all the ones of my life, a white Christmas is still the kind my heart will always long for…
But it was more than that.
A couple of days after December 25th had come and gone, I caught up with a dear friend regarding our individual experiences of Christmas this year. I asked about hers first, and she said, “It was good. It was different. A little weird. But overall good.” Then she asked how mine had been, and I chuckled as I realized that her description could also be - exactly - mine.
It was good.
Filled with a little more “unique” chaos than I might have planned on? Yes. But also alive with the joyful chaos I treasure.
Take Christmas Eve: Every available kitchen surface laden with seafood, buffalo chicken, spinach casserole, and sweets galore… And the resulting aromas that, when comingled, mean for sure in our house, that it is Christmas Eve. Alexa playing Bing Crosby – maybe just a little too loudly given all the other noise: The sound of wrapping paper tearing in every direction; the background soundtrack to excited voices filling a not-quite-big enough room; everyone talking at once – either gleefully reacting to what they’ve just unwrapped or explaining the thoughts behind something someone else just unwrapped.
Tommy and I found ourselves wedged side by side on the loveseat tucked into a corner of the bustling room. At one point, he looked at me and said, “There is just nothing like watching all of them…” By “all of them” he meant our kids, and the bonus kids now in our lives because of our original two. And I could not have agreed more.
They are grown up. Adults. And I think, just maybe, the fact that they still – despite their maturity, the pressures of the real world and their Real Lives in it, and the various other ways they could choose to spend Christmas Eve – exude that kind of joy… in the home we’ve made for them? That just might really make it better than ever.
We have so many wonderfully fond memories from the years when they were small. But this – right now – is awfully good, too.
…And it was different.
Grown-up kids played a huge role in making it that, too.
For instance, it allowed me to decide to say “yes” to a getaway for the entire weekend before Christmas: With Tommy, to celebrate our 28th wedding anniversary – in one of our favorite places on earth.
While we almost always go away for one night to celebrate, the thought of taking the whole weekend – at that time of year – made me hesitate. But when my daughter heard of the possibility, she encouraged me to do it. “You have grown up kids. Nothing holding you back. You have no reason not to,” she said. And she was right.
That weekend would end up becoming the source of some of my fondest memories of this Christmas season: Something I hope, Lord willing, we can repeat on future anniversaries. What a beautiful chance to fully embrace the spirit of the season: Strolls through beautiful small towns that looked just like Hallmark Christmas movie scenes. The festive atmosphere buzzing about the historic inn we’ve long admired, and now finally had the chance to occupy for a weekend. The serendipity with which Kenny G Christmas music (exactly what welcomed guests to our wedding reception all those years ago) ended up playing as we crossed the Chesapeake Bay Bridge - both ways - on this trip. The snow that fell during the last hour of our journey back home.
I wouldn’t trade one bit of that experience for anything. Yet, as with most good things, it did come with a price: I did end up more “behind” than I’ve been in years on Christmas things back at home! Normally I would have finished baking and wrapping that weekend. Instead, I’d barely even started either thing. Of course, I eventually got them done. Albeit in dribs and drabs, and not until the very last minute. We even ran out of time before we got to spend evenings on the couch watching all the Christmas movies as we normally love to do. That’s all very “different” for me, but also a beautiful lesson about how sometimes giving “different” a chance is worth it.
…A week later, as Tommy and I stood side by side at the bathroom vanity getting ready for our Christmas Eve festivities, I said to him, “Can we just take a moment to appreciate how much easier Christmas is now?” I’m certain he knew exactly what I meant: The many years when that exact hour had found me frazzled to the core, trying to get everyone dressed and out the door, the list of all the magic that still needed to happen late into a long, packed night looming large. He wholeheartedly agreed. We loved every minute of those days. Truly, we did. Now, it’s different… and really good, too. Truly, it is.
And it was a little weird:
An arctic blast of historic proportions. The resulting heightened concern about everything – especially our parents. More places to go and people with whom we wanted to celebrate than we’ve had in many recent years. The seemingly no “in-between” – either everything happening at once, or nothing happening at all; our time truly our own. The things that went really wrong: Including a freak and potentially disastrous automotive failure for our daughter with her brand-new vehicle. We did a lot of last-minute scrambling to try and look after, help, and accommodate people we love.
Two-days before Christmas, my daughter and I shared a moment of, “Can this really all be happening?" Hoping to encourage her, amid her very justified distress, to still try and just enjoy Christmas, I found myself saying, “It will all be perfectly OK. Life has taught me that there will ALWAYS be something to worry about. Always has been. Always will be. But so far, 100% of the things have worked out perfectly OK. I’m not going to start thinking they won’t NOW…”
I realized just then how grateful I felt for the worries, struggles, and fears I myself have carried into so many Christmases…. Into so many days… Even those I’d carried into this one. Otherwise, by what authority could I tell her that – and mean and believe it?
Those things I mentioned knowing I’ve learned about life and myself? Well, what good is learning if I don’t use what I’ve learned from the past as I choose how I want to approach my present?
And maybe that - more than the weather, more than experiences or circumstances, more than anything - is what helped the most in making this Christmas – even in all its twists, turns, and quirks – feel so much more real to me.
I’ve certainly learned, seemingly more than ever in the past year, how quickly time really passes. So, when it came to this season that I love so much and look forward to all year, I wanted to intentionally savor it: To focus on taking in and enjoying the whole season, rather than putting all my hope and expectation into 24-hours that would pass at exactly the same rate as any others.
And I did.
I even prioritized a daily Advent study. Making space for the whole season to feel as meaningful and special as it should really did change things. In the process, I realized that, for me, the preparation and the anticipation are truly some of the best parts… And thanks to a faith that grew even deeper this year, Christmas did feel meaningful and special - because of what it really means: That Jesus came. And how that forever makes everything different - in the best possible way - for those who choose Him.
With that, and true gratitude, more thoughtfully central in my mind and heart this season than ever before, I noticed time and again: Nothing could diminish the true joy of Christmas. Not even the things that were different - or even a little weird.
It was, overall, really good.
The time has almost come to leave it behind. When I do, it will be with all these things in mind. Not only as unique and meaningful memories of this season, but also as Real-Life symbols of promise to carry forward into a new year. That encouragement I offered my daughter about allowing past experience to inform future hope? I have learned to embrace that myself.
In this last week of 2022, I’ve thought a lot about how easily I could use the same words my friend and I used to describe this Christmas to describe most days of my life:
“Good. Different. A little weird. But overall - good.”
Past experience tells me that 2023 will likely hold much of the same. And also, that - as long as I have eyes to see - I can learn something from, and find beauty in, it all.
(Also… In case you’re wondering? My girl didn’t let her vehicle crisis ruin her Christmas, and good thing: Because a week later – that went down in history as yet another thing that really did work out perfectly OK.)
