A Christmas Tradition

Here’s the thing: I love a good advent calendar. I love the idea of drawing out the holiday season as long as one possibly can – trickling the joy, little by little, and so, every year, I get the grand idea that this is The Year of the Advent Calendar. We’re doing it and we’re going to do it right, and we’re filling each day with a great holiday activity like ice-skating on a picturesque pond or hanging outdoor lights in matching wool sweaters or singing carols door-to-door, all rosy cheeked and mittened. You know, Hallmark Movie type stuff.

We have never, not once, not ever done these things. They exist only in my mind, because each year I write down these activities, we skip all of them except for our favorite: watch a Christmas movie with a giant bowl of popcorn.

We’re always good for a movie night, but it wasn’t until this year that we decided this – this(!) will be our tradition. It’s not quite deserving of the Hallmark Channel and it certainly won’t grace the cover of a holiday card but good gracious, do we ever enjoy it. It’s simple and fun and us.

 

Our Christmas

Martin and I went to our work Christmas party tonight. We’ve worked harder than ever this year, and as the snow falls this December, the mighty are falling with it. We’re staying horizontal as much as possible, curling up on sofas to nap and dream and think and talk. And because Divy is a ripe 7.5 years old (which means there is much Christmas excitement to be had), the living room is now tree-up, decorated, lighted. Truthfully, there’s every decoration in sight. It’s perfect.

Martin is a certified Christmas elf. He lives for snow and carols and gingerbread houses. He’s been Father Christmas-ing since 2012 and is, without a doubt in my mind, the jolliest of souls around. He and December go way back. So he and Divy called on Wednesday to invite me for merry-making at home for the sake of a Christmas tree and it seemed just… perfect. And since Morgen had a pass to come up for the night, today we got to work.

And it has been delightful.

My days are filled with anticipation for 8pm when we put little Divy down and retreat to our quiet corner to lose ourselves in the magic of storytelling and Christmas. And although I am tired on some days, this feels perfectly right and good and true.

Thanks to Martin and Divy for making our Christmas a bit more intentional – and a lot more magical. Merry (early) Christmas, friends!

Small Step No. 2

And so, a small reminder for myself...

Be the thermostat.

My friend Kelly taught me this once, and her dad taught her. While I’m prone to measuring the temperature, to reading the room, to quietly adjusting my own layers to better acclimate, a thermostat declares the room cold and makes it warm.

We all hold in ourselves the power to transform – in ways small and large – a room, a year, a Christmas Day. We can make it hot or cold. We can make our homes into caves or havens; we can make our days stretch or crumble.

It is ours to decide, and we can decide.

Yesterday, we all woke up in stormy moods. The clouds hung low outside the window, mocking our attitudes. I puttered around per usual – frying eggs, washing pans, wrapping presents – and as the day went on and the coffee wore off, the sun still hadn’t come out. My responses were shortened, strained. Morgen carried a furrowed brow. Markus grew grumpy.

I practiced deep breaths, spritzed some rosewater on my face, willed myself to snap out of it. The Christmas dance party playlist wasn’t cutting it; I found the extra noise to be annoying.

Be the thermostat, I reminded myself. Set the tone. Rise above. You’re the grown-up. Make it warm.

I dug out an old puzzle for Morg, did 20 sit-ups for myself. Read Christmas Stories. Made a few silly faces for Max, then a few more for Preslee. In very little time, with very little effort, the energy of the room offered teenage smiles and grown-up giggles yet again.

Eventually, the sun peeked out from behind the clouds, but it didn’t matter: the house was warm enough without it.

—

Tell me: how did you spend your Christmas day? I’d love to hear!

p.s. These are a series of small steps that will (hopefully) provide one giant leap to greater things. Not for mankind, but for me, and perhaps for you, which will always be good enough in my book. More to come.

Merry Christmas

From our family to yours.