When I was growing up, I always loved Christmas time. I loved the songs, the special foods (okay, mostly just cookies, pies, and Christmas waffles - I've never been into turkeys, hams, mashed potatoes, etc.), the general sense of merriment and excitement from the adults. I loved the Christmas tree, the stockings, the joyful anticipation of Santa coming.
And now, when this time of year comes, I remember that, and I still want almost nothing to do with it.
Part of it is this - I grew up in a church and school that celebrated Advent - a hope-filled period of waiting and watching the four weeks before Christmas. To wait for four weeks together made the whole thing feel more magical when it arrived. Skipping this period of waiting as a culture feels like having dessert without dinner - all the sugar and very little of the substance. (I recognize the irony of this analogy, by the way, having said above that my favorite holiday foods are only cookies and waffles.)
Part of it is this - I have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. It's a lot different as an adult with two days off (which I am grateful for) compared to a child with several weeks off of school.
Part of it is this - I would be responsible for creating all these things: decorating, cooking extra foods, monitoring the children around a tree, hanging lights (or having Caleb do it) and most days, it feels like all we can do to keep everyone fed, clothed, relatively rested, and arriving at their destinations. We only recently added in teeth brushing for the toddler because until now, it quite frankly felt too overwhelming. You make time for the priorities, and many people busier than I make time to do Christmas decorating and the like because it brings them joy - and to them I say great! I am making time to write this right now because it brings me joy, so I fully support you.
A big part of it is this - the earth is rapidly being destroyed. It's groaning all the time, but it seems especially poignant during this time of liturgically hope-filled waiting. The first thing I think of when I see a beautifully wrapped present is about what a waste of precious, limited resources it was to wrap a probably not necessary thing in completely unnecessary paper or a gift bag. My children, who will most certainly have to deal with the consequences of climate denial and inaction, receive many thoughtful gifts (some even suggested by or purchased by me). It is my hope that providing a childhood full of messy play, open-ended toys, extremely limited screens, and lots of outdoor time will help them fall in love with the planet and think creatively to come up solutions to a drastically changing world. But somehow another obligatory part of childhood in the world today is free plastic junk at every turn. And while I strongly agree that "[O]ne of the functions of preschools [or toddlers] in our society is not to use things, but to finish using things.", the amount of NEW plastic or other junk that arrives home when you have kids is a shock. And apart from the junk, even the things I carefully select come at a cost. I buy new clothes because it's easier than making time to go to a consignment sale. I buy new books to ensure my kids have a selection of books that features female, racially, and ably diverse characters. All of it costs something financially and costs something to the planet. Christmas trees, lights, decorations.
Also, can we talk about Santa? I love magic and the way that childhood is a time when the lines of fantasy and reality are very blurry. But I have given or sat through a few too many child protection trainings to want my children to ever sit on the lap of a stranger at the request of a trusted adult. One of the only Christmas decorations I own are personalized stockings... I myself loved the magic of Santa growing up, but the whole thing makes me feel uneasy and unsettled.
Overall, I guess I feel like we - as a family and as a society - are already overflowing at the brims - too much stuff, not enough space, too many commitments, not enough time. We take that limited, not-enough space and we jam-pack it full of Christmas trees, Christmas trinkets, plastic stuff. It's a screaming holiday in an already too loud world. As the world gets louder, the holiday too must get louder to be heard above the fray. Sales are moved earlier, shop not just on Black Friday, but the whole month of November. Put up your tree in October, start celebrating the start of the winter season on November 1, even though it's still fall until December 21. Burn yourself out on winter cheer by January 1, and then complain about the weather for another three months.
And I fell out of love with Christmas time.
All of this, to celebrate a major religious holiday, one of the great mysteries of the Christian faith. When we peel the layers back, none of that, at its heart, has much to do with sales or shopping or snow or Christmas movies, or holiday lights, or even Christmas trees.
Maybe what I fell out of love with, in the end, was the idea that to mark this significant celebration required jumping on board with the mayhem of the season. Maybe our traditions can include slowing down, giving only one or two gifts per person in a family, cutting out extra activities, sharing simple meals, and sinking into really being present with each other. Maybe we can listening to the beautifully haunting notes of "O Come O Come Emmanuel" and pray them more fervently than ever before in the face of climate disaster, political instability, and the refugee crisis.
Let's slow down together.
And now, when this time of year comes, I remember that, and I still want almost nothing to do with it.
Part of it is this - I grew up in a church and school that celebrated Advent - a hope-filled period of waiting and watching the four weeks before Christmas. To wait for four weeks together made the whole thing feel more magical when it arrived. Skipping this period of waiting as a culture feels like having dessert without dinner - all the sugar and very little of the substance. (I recognize the irony of this analogy, by the way, having said above that my favorite holiday foods are only cookies and waffles.)
Part of it is this - I have Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. It's a lot different as an adult with two days off (which I am grateful for) compared to a child with several weeks off of school.
Part of it is this - I would be responsible for creating all these things: decorating, cooking extra foods, monitoring the children around a tree, hanging lights (or having Caleb do it) and most days, it feels like all we can do to keep everyone fed, clothed, relatively rested, and arriving at their destinations. We only recently added in teeth brushing for the toddler because until now, it quite frankly felt too overwhelming. You make time for the priorities, and many people busier than I make time to do Christmas decorating and the like because it brings them joy - and to them I say great! I am making time to write this right now because it brings me joy, so I fully support you.
A big part of it is this - the earth is rapidly being destroyed. It's groaning all the time, but it seems especially poignant during this time of liturgically hope-filled waiting. The first thing I think of when I see a beautifully wrapped present is about what a waste of precious, limited resources it was to wrap a probably not necessary thing in completely unnecessary paper or a gift bag. My children, who will most certainly have to deal with the consequences of climate denial and inaction, receive many thoughtful gifts (some even suggested by or purchased by me). It is my hope that providing a childhood full of messy play, open-ended toys, extremely limited screens, and lots of outdoor time will help them fall in love with the planet and think creatively to come up solutions to a drastically changing world. But somehow another obligatory part of childhood in the world today is free plastic junk at every turn. And while I strongly agree that "[O]ne of the functions of preschools [or toddlers] in our society is not to use things, but to finish using things.", the amount of NEW plastic or other junk that arrives home when you have kids is a shock. And apart from the junk, even the things I carefully select come at a cost. I buy new clothes because it's easier than making time to go to a consignment sale. I buy new books to ensure my kids have a selection of books that features female, racially, and ably diverse characters. All of it costs something financially and costs something to the planet. Christmas trees, lights, decorations.
Also, can we talk about Santa? I love magic and the way that childhood is a time when the lines of fantasy and reality are very blurry. But I have given or sat through a few too many child protection trainings to want my children to ever sit on the lap of a stranger at the request of a trusted adult. One of the only Christmas decorations I own are personalized stockings... I myself loved the magic of Santa growing up, but the whole thing makes me feel uneasy and unsettled.
Overall, I guess I feel like we - as a family and as a society - are already overflowing at the brims - too much stuff, not enough space, too many commitments, not enough time. We take that limited, not-enough space and we jam-pack it full of Christmas trees, Christmas trinkets, plastic stuff. It's a screaming holiday in an already too loud world. As the world gets louder, the holiday too must get louder to be heard above the fray. Sales are moved earlier, shop not just on Black Friday, but the whole month of November. Put up your tree in October, start celebrating the start of the winter season on November 1, even though it's still fall until December 21. Burn yourself out on winter cheer by January 1, and then complain about the weather for another three months.
And I fell out of love with Christmas time.
All of this, to celebrate a major religious holiday, one of the great mysteries of the Christian faith. When we peel the layers back, none of that, at its heart, has much to do with sales or shopping or snow or Christmas movies, or holiday lights, or even Christmas trees.
Maybe what I fell out of love with, in the end, was the idea that to mark this significant celebration required jumping on board with the mayhem of the season. Maybe our traditions can include slowing down, giving only one or two gifts per person in a family, cutting out extra activities, sharing simple meals, and sinking into really being present with each other. Maybe we can listening to the beautifully haunting notes of "O Come O Come Emmanuel" and pray them more fervently than ever before in the face of climate disaster, political instability, and the refugee crisis.
Let's slow down together.
We have an Advent calendar with 15 boxes. Inside each one, we put a few verses from the beginning of Luke's gospel so that we tell the nativity story over the course of December. We also put in 1-2 pieces of Seraphina's old Halloween candy (because it's inevitably still around). Each night, when we open a box, she reads the verses and eats the candy, and we all take turns putting whatever pocket change we can find into the boxes (every Seraphina is sacrificing her own money this year). Once Christmas comes, she decides what charity gets the money. For her, it's usually Nat Geo Big Cats or Humane Society. We still have way too much junk, but this is one tradition that I'm proud of and want to continue. I hope that you can find traditions that are not troublesome but are meaningful to you, Ellen!
ReplyDeleteIt's a screaming holiday in an already too loud world.... GIRRRRRRLLLLLLLLLLL. Preach THAT. I resonate with a lot of this, but I also still love a lot of it, too. And that's fine. Our kids don't believe in Santa because Blythe ruined it [??] for everyone when she, at age 4, asked me the following: "Mom... is Jesus real?" I answered, the affirmative, obviously. With no pause, "Mom... is Santa real?" Well when asked point blank in that succession... I said no. And that has stripped out a lot of the extra stuff I don't even like. I keep our calendar pretty empty, minus our family stuff. Thanks for sharing this. Always like to peek inside your brain :)
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