Untraditional Christmas

Have you ever just had the urge to stick a pair of antlers on a white Siberian tiger?  Like slapping the trappings of something you're used to onto something a little foreign to you?  Okay, I'm stretching the metaphor a little bit.  The Boo decided it would be fun to decorate Grandpa's stuffed tigers.  They don't seem to mind, and they make for a great photo opportunity.  Thinking seriously about this Christmas, though, that's the sort of Christmas we had.  Not quite traditional. 

 The traditional Christmas at my parents' house has a very specific structure.  Everybody arrives at least two days in advance.  We go to the Christmas Eve service.  When we get home, we eat scrambled eggs and badger my parents into opening presents that evening. Present opening has a very specific structure too: we turn out all the light except the ones on the tree, we start with a reading of the Christmas story, my brother Ted passes out one round of presents, we sing a Christmas carol, and then he passes out another round of presents, and so on. Then the next morning, after everyone is awake, we open our stockings, drink lots of eggnog mixed with orange juice, eat cinnamon rolls, and prepare to eat ourselves silly, play board games, and complete at least one jigsaw puzzle.  That has been Christmas up to this point.   

But this year, the combination of economy, life changes, and just plain growing up induced us to alter a few things.  None of us live at home now, so three of the siblings didn't get in until Christmas Eve.  (I, on the other hand, being devoid of a husband, showed up a week in advance to help with the baking.)  We decided to exchange names instead of getting presents for everyone from everyone, so there was only one round of presents, and it happened on Christmas day, after the Sunday morning service, at the same time as opening stockings.  We did read the Christmas story.  We did not sing any carols.   There was no jigsaw puzzle.  But most striking of all, we didn't even finish one carton of eggnog between the nine of us.  Mom was sincerely distressed because she's supposed to be avoiding sugary foods, and she'd bought three cartons of eggnog to make sure there would  be enough for my hollow legged brother and brother-in-law. 

I'm not complaining about the changes, at least not seriously.  The idea that Christmas is a flexible entity has been coming on gradually for me.   I remember feeling a lot more awe of the sacredness of it when I was little.  Then the dimmed lights and the carols sung felt like a connection back to the first Christmas.  I remember lying under the tree and staring up through the branches at the patterns made by the lights and thinking abut nothing but the lights and how beautiful they were.  I remember Christmas presents being a lot more exciting (possibly because I didn't have to tell people what to get me) and stockings being at once mysterious and satisfyingly predictable. 

But then the order started getting mixed up, and I went off to college and got married, and I had to get in on the Christmas rush myself, being possessed of my own househod, and things just got screwy.  Like my mother-in-law told me once, Christmas isn't as magical once you're responsible for making the magic.  It's better when it seems to come out of nowhere, like Santa Claus or the angels.  It used to just develop around me and then sink slowly back into the tide of the new year.  Now, I'm behind the scenes, and even in my simple home, it's quite the production.  This year, like several years past, we didn't get a tree because Seth wasn't going to be home.  I didn't get Christmas cards out again (my apologies), and we had no family picture to send either.

Still, I think I liked this year.  It was nice to cut back on the shopping and focus on three people instead of eight.  Comforting economically too.  It was nice to spend time with my folks and watch eagerly for snow that never came (as per usual).  With less time an attention spent on presents, Boogaloo got to play more with her aunts and uncles, and she didn't get bored with anything, like she did last year.  I got to spend a little bit more time reflecting on the enormity of God's love and the promise of peace on earth and a lot less energy worrying about making an unforgettable experience.  (Of course, it helped that the celebration was at my parents' house, and they had the majority of the responsibility, but I like to think that I lightened that responsibility somewhat.)  Maybe Christmas should always be this simple.  Then we would like it more.