I Used to Be Better at This

I can remember years when the big kids were younger, and I was too, that I was done with Christmas long before Gaudete Sunday. I would start shopping in January for the next Christmas – catching the perfect gifts on sale and packing them away until sometime in November when I’d lay them out and see what else had to be done. I made lists of things to do, things to buy, and things to make.

The tree went up early, often the week before Thanksgiving (which was never at our house, so it didn’t matter), and every inch of our house was perfectly decked for Christmas. I hung swags and garlands, tied bows, and arranged nativity sets just so. My mother in law gave me a cordless glue gun for my birthday, and I was thrilled because Christmas decorations got a whole lot easier.

I worked so hard to make our celebrations look perfect. It became my song of love to my family – being able to give them a perfect Christmas.

….and somewhere in all of that perfection, Christmas got lost. The holiday was still there – tinsel, dresses, parties, presents, dinner, cookies, Santa Claus – but Christmas was missing.

I spent the morning looking through the pictures of those long ago celebrations – everything was so beautiful. There’s a part of me that wishes I had half the energy for planning and preparations that I used to have. I wish that my younger children could experience that same magical experience…

but then they wouldn’t have the same miraculous one.

Because while I’m not organized at all these days – my former self would be horrified to see  what I now consider “decorated” to mean, and I’ve spent the past 48 hours doing all the gift shopping (and I do mean all…not a single thing had been purchased), but we’ve spent the time preparing not for the celebration as much as the Feast Day.

Instead of putting up a tree in November, we learned about lighting the Advent wreath. Instead of polishing the house from top to bottom, we took the kids to Confession….and even went ourselves….polishing up our souls instead. We baked cookies that the kids decorated by themselves (good golly but they were ugly) an took them to the nursing home down the street. Those grandparents were thrilled with our imperfect cookies, and even happier to spend the afternoon playing games and coloring with my little guys. We prayed for the people we sent cards to instead of sweating over how imperfect those cards might havebeen. I  realized today that we had swapped the things that looked pretty on paper with things that are better.

Sitting here flipping through these pictures, I realize that I used to be better at making Christmas pretty, and now I’m better at making it real.


(There are amazing people in this world who can do both. I’m not one of them. If you are, can you share your secrets?)