Christmas Simplicity

One thing I know about my family is that we're pretty bad with traditions. Whenever people start talking about their family's Christmases, I realize again how growing up, we never had those special things we did every year. We did special things together; they were just different (and random) every year. A tree would usually show up and I remember Dad bringing out a string of lights wound up on a homemade wooden frame, and they were still always tangled despite his efforts. We had some ornaments that we always used and I think we went to church. Dad usually did a devotion before on Christmas Eve after dinner, and the one thing that stayed consistant was that we had to wash dishes before we could open presents.

But that's about all that I have. It's not because of dysfunction or or poverty or any sad orphan story. I guess it's just that my parents broke away from their families and, like every parent, just kind of flew by the seat of their pants through some of these things. 

And maybe Christmas wasn't as big of a deal in the 80's before the internet advertisements got out of control. I think commercialization was just beginning to take on a new form and maybe hadn't reached my boomer parents yet. I remember poring over the Radio Shack catalog, but never expecting to receive anything from it as a gift. I remember commercials for elaborate toys and sometimes going to Toys R Us and looking around. But our lives were simple and my parents didn't have a lot of money, so I think most of our gifts arrived in the UPS boxes that came from relatives. I don't remember the gifts. I genuinely only remember two things: A container of colorful hairbands one year, which my mom accidentally gave to my dad to open, and a pack of Bazooka Bubble gum (which I made REAL GOOD use of for about a month). Maybe I've just gotten old and those things were childish so they've faded from my memory. 

But I have a pretty vivid memory, and what sticks out from those early traditionless Christmases is just time with my family in a cozy old farm house with green shag carpet, watching network Christmas specials together and eating popcorn. A generous Christmas Eve meal and extra cookies, and just beautiful simplicity. Maybe all people feel that way as they get older, that their lives were more simple as children and the world has gotten more terrible and dark. Maybe it really has. I don't know, but I do know I treasure those breaks from school when everyone could be together, and I treasure them now too. Nowhere else to go, no traditions to uphold or programs to be at. Just a few days here in the new homestead with a Christmas tree, a fire, and youtubes of the network Christmas specials. And a few days with my parents and siblings, remembering and laughing together, traditionless, but bonded nevertheless. 

Middle School and Bethany and Jesus' birth.

 I keep trying to think of something profound to say about this last year, but nothing comes to mind. In most ways, we're in a holding pattern, just plugging through the normal, mostly mundane things. There weren't any major milestones or big family trips (just a quick getaway to nashville for me and D). BUt Christmas is on my mind, and I realized that this year has been a lot of me remembering my life in the phases my kids are in. Having teenagers is hard and painful because you just have to watch them learn things and suffer and grow on their own. They don't really want your advice and they pretend they aren't listening when you give it. But it's also painful because it's a reminder of who I was at age thirteen, fifteen, sixteen. Middle school was very difficult for me, so while I watch my own middle school daughter try to navigate that complex world, I'm reliving my own memories of never fitting in or having the right things to say, of losing friends and trying to find new ones. I thought about it a lot this year, about friendship and loss and the pain of growing up. As adults we still suffer those same heartaches, but we have the persepctive to know that we'll survive, we'll keep making it, keep meeting new people. That it isn't hopeless and we aren't losers because someone doesn't like us.

At least I think we have that perspective.

I've been thinking about my best friend Bethany and the way she stuck by me through middle school. I was probably an awkward, difficult person who did embarrassing things and had too many opinions and negative thoughts. I think I was loud sometimes, but she laughed at my jokes and she invited me to things when no one else did. We wrote stories together and even though she was beautiful and always getting guys' attention, she still didn't mind hanging around tom-boy me with my ridiculous fashion taste and really bad hair days. She was a gift to me in a lonely time of my life. She still is a gift to me because she didn't leave me through that, and I can still call her up and hear her voice and know I'm okay even when the rest of the world feels crazy. She's solid ground for me when my world slips all around. She's there with truth and prayers and comforting words of encouragement.

And I guess thinking about that brings me to thinking about Jesus. Because all of the times growing up when I was alone, when I felt rejected and ugly and really truly despaired, I had Jesus there with me, and it didn't feel as bad. I heard his words that He'd never leave me, that he loved me and made me and had plans for me. I believed the promises about the future with Him, about blessings when people curse, and overwhelming love that never lets go. And I guess at Christmas, I just think about the way He came to be with us. He just joined the world full of selfish people with their own agendas and gave up all of the power that he could have used to judge and condemn, and used it instead to love and save. He walked into the world's giant mess and made the biggest things that were wrong right again. And I guess that's a friend that I can always count on.