I like
my holiday traditions. I love the after-Thanksgiving decorating, the walk down
Christmas Tree Lane, the decadent desserts and dinner parties, the wrapping and
unwrapping of Christmas books each night of advent, the doorbuster sales, the
white elephant gift exchanges, the homemade cinnamon rolls and
Christmas Day ravioli. I love Christmas cards and endless twinkling lights and
Pinterest projects. For years, I have pushed through to get it all done, get it
all right, get it all accomplished and then chalked up that ragged, worn-out
feeling as being just part of the bustle of the season.
Looking through my list, I knew I needed to cut back on at least a third of our holiday traditions and then cross off a few more that were really meaningful but just made the season far too busy. It was hard work but there was great freedom I felt in doing it.
But
this year I know I need to slow it down.
Slow
down our schedule, slow down our commitments, slow down our hearts.
When I
hear the same message resonating from a lot of different places from different
people I respect, I know it's time to start sitting up and paying attention.
This is often the way God tries to show me something important. Truth be told,
God's been whispering this message to me about slowing down Christmas for the
last few years, but I didn't really want to listen.
This
will be a different Christmas for my family - our first Christmas without my
husband who died in September from cancer. Some might be tempted to cancel
Christmas in our circumstances, but with a 3, 5, and 8-year-old I know I can't
do that.
I do
know I have a perfect opportunity to do something different, to slow it
down and be more intentional.
Author
Brene Brown wrote this in a recent blog post, "We live in a world where
life can easily become pageantry, and the best performers make it look balletic
and effortless. Of course, there’s no such thing as an effortless holiday show.
If you sneak a peek behind most people’s red velvet curtains at holiday time,
you’ll often see houses brimming with anxiety, maxed-out credit cards, crying
children, and marriages that make the cold war look warm and fuzzy. I’m
convinced that the only way out of this is by cancelling the show. Not
canceling the holiday, but giving up the show."
I was
convicted by that. On Thanksgiving, I started thinking through our long list of
Christmas traditions and asking myself why each one is really important. I
found myself dwelling on a few key questions: What am I really longing for this
season? What traditions are just part of the show and which ones really matter
to me?
I
realized that every year I long for two things: quality time to enjoy the
story of Christmas and a meaningful way to bless others.
Looking through my list, I knew I needed to cut back on at least a third of our holiday traditions and then cross off a few more that were really meaningful but just made the season far too busy. It was hard work but there was great freedom I felt in doing it.
It's
December 11 and none of my Christmas decorations are up. We are slated to go
get our tree tomorrow night with friends. Our tradition has always been to put
everything up the day after Thanksgiving. We didn't do that this year. And
that's ok. It's one example of a way I gave myself grace and permission to
slow down.
Instead,
I've spend these first two weeks of Advent reading through a new treasured book
called UNWRAPPING
THE CHRISTMAS STORY by Ann Voskamp with my kids. There is a story and
beautiful illustrations lighting each night of Advent. This book has
encouraged some amazing conversations with my girls. We haven't finished every
night's reading or every question, but we have slowed down most nights to
enjoy it together. I have treasured this time. It's a new tradition that really matters to me.
My
challenge to you (and myself) is to slow down for five minutes and ask
yourself: What can I cut out these next few weeks? When can I say no
graciously? What can I take off my to-do list so I can say
yes to the heart of Christmas? If Christmas is about the birth of Emmanuel,
meaning "God with us," I know I don't want to sprint through this
season all bleary-eyed and miss out on the moments I could have with that
God-baby.
Dorina
Lazo Gilmore is the Coordinator of the Bridge MOPS. She writes books for
children and also teaches at California State University, Fresno. She is a mama
to three active girls.
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