Taking My Own Advice and Writing Through Christmas

The calendar was full weeks ago. This and that. Practice here, wrap that. This is the time of year when you’ll have a “Blue, Blue Christmas” or it will be “Joyful, Jo1yful” one. Or a little of both. The outstanding rhythm seems to be some bad jazz song with everyone playing their own solos at the same time. Wants. Christmas lists. The nearly impossible task of having everyone at home at the same time?

A financial set back has determined we are last-minute shopping this year. We have determined, though, each of the children will not be shopping with mom or dad to buy the other sibling a Christmas present, breaking my bank, not theirs. We’ve instituted, hopefully, a new tradition, where everyone makes something or serves the sibling. This will be easy for the artsy-craftsy, writer girl who has her head in some project or another at any given time of the year. It will be hard for the black and white, lawyer kid whose wheels were turning on how he could manipulate the definition of making something or serving. Meaning, he wanted to do something later in the year with the sibling. BUZZ, wrong answer! The other one with his new homemade forge is probably going to melt something, hammer something, call it a knife and call it good. They all have their own love language, right?!

Hopefully, it will all be done in the spirit of knowing their sibling, knowing the gift is for the sibling and not something they want and transferred that to someone else.

Not having family close, cousin’s laughter, aunts and uncles at the adult table are tough traditions to overcome. We normally go to Christmas Eve service at church. Read Luke’s version of Jesus’ birth on Christmas Day. Not even the grown kids come home or spend the night anymore. They have their own traditions.

However, we slow down. We gather the pillows and couches and cuddle up with the blankets and the dog and we read an advent story every night. Never too old. It never gets old. We know the end of the story. It’s at the end of the star. A baby, born in a manger. Come to save the world. A King, wrapped in swaddling clothes, before he’s wrapped in royal robes.

Silent Night. Holy Night.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s