What is Christmas?
2 days until Christmas! Or, if you're in my family....10.5 hours.
Since Andrew & I both work on Christmas day (I'm technically "on call") we're doing Christmas with our families Christmas Eve morning. At 830. At our house....that isn't clean. With presents that aren't wrapped.
And I felt like writing a blog! Procrastination & productivity in one.
I could talk about how proud I am of myself for standing up for myself at work. I am! I calmly told/implied to my "bully" that the way she was speaking/yelling at me was not acceptable anymore. Which, is a big deal. I'm passive aggressive, but not confrontational. I felt 10 feet tall :)
I could talk about how nice it was this past week to not haveanything stuck in my vagina doctors visits. It was nice to feel a little bit normal! (and that I'm still traumatised from the HSG.)
I could talk about this wonderful, sweet, beautiful delivery that I saw yesterday, that made me come home and have a mini meltdown. One that was doused in the terror of a potential future void of motherhood, and children of my own.
I could talk about how wonderful Andrew was during my mini meltdown. That, no matter how it happens, we will be parents.
I would like to talk about Christmas though, you know, since it IS the season.
I was remembering a Christmas I had...almost 10 years ago. My mom had just been released from the hospital. I don't know the details, but we didn't have any money to really spend on Christmas (because most of it was going on medications, and medical bills.) I remember very clearly watching my mom cry at the kitchen counter and apologize for not being able to give us a "good" Christmas. And I remember hugging her (and Oh, how I wish with every fiber of my being that I could do that again!) and telling her that it was going to be a great Christmas, because she was home with us. And that was worth so much more than any present they could buy us, and that it was all I needed. And I meant it.
Later that night, my parents small group came caroling at our house. They brought us a tree (which we couldn't afford) and giftcards and gifts. It was a literal Christmas miracle, and an answer to prayer.
I'm not sure what the point is here. Honestly, I don't think of Christmas as a celebration of the birth of Christ. I know that sounds so unChristian! But I feel like you should celebrate Christ everyday in your life.
I think of Christmas as spending time with my family. Late night dinners of chocolate chip pancakes at Village Inn. Weekends spent in cotton "Bible" gowns & headdresses. Choirs, Church, smelly fish, goats, playing at being a child of the butcher in Bethleham on a Disney Aladdin ice skaing set. Or cold nights with socks over my shoes in an old horse ranch doing the same thing. Or Ms. Becky refusing to wear her coat because it didn't match. A dark auditorium lit only by the candles of hundreds of people. Listening to my teachers taking turns reading the Christmas story on stage. Red velvet dresses, white tights, and melted candle wax. It's falling asleep beside my sister after staying up until we can't hold our eyes open, listening for Santa...those are the memories of my childhood.
When I remember them I feel like I'm home, and it makes me want to cry. It's sacred to me, because so few things make me feel like I'm home anymore.
I just re read this and realised that none of my Christmas memories involve waking up and opening presents. Not one. I don't even remember any presents I got (maybe on jewelry making kit.)The only one that involves Christmas morning is the fact that we couldn't wake my parents up until we had walked the dog around the block- rain or sunshine.
So tomorrow, and tonight, I'm going to try making some memories. I hope you do the same.
Have a Happy Christmas!
Since Andrew & I both work on Christmas day (I'm technically "on call") we're doing Christmas with our families Christmas Eve morning. At 830. At our house....that isn't clean. With presents that aren't wrapped.
And I felt like writing a blog! Procrastination & productivity in one.
I could talk about how proud I am of myself for standing up for myself at work. I am! I calmly told/implied to my "bully" that the way she was speaking/yelling at me was not acceptable anymore. Which, is a big deal. I'm passive aggressive, but not confrontational. I felt 10 feet tall :)
I could talk about how nice it was this past week to not have
I could talk about this wonderful, sweet, beautiful delivery that I saw yesterday, that made me come home and have a mini meltdown. One that was doused in the terror of a potential future void of motherhood, and children of my own.
I could talk about how wonderful Andrew was during my mini meltdown. That, no matter how it happens, we will be parents.
I would like to talk about Christmas though, you know, since it IS the season.
I was remembering a Christmas I had...almost 10 years ago. My mom had just been released from the hospital. I don't know the details, but we didn't have any money to really spend on Christmas (because most of it was going on medications, and medical bills.) I remember very clearly watching my mom cry at the kitchen counter and apologize for not being able to give us a "good" Christmas. And I remember hugging her (and Oh, how I wish with every fiber of my being that I could do that again!) and telling her that it was going to be a great Christmas, because she was home with us. And that was worth so much more than any present they could buy us, and that it was all I needed. And I meant it.
Later that night, my parents small group came caroling at our house. They brought us a tree (which we couldn't afford) and giftcards and gifts. It was a literal Christmas miracle, and an answer to prayer.
I'm not sure what the point is here. Honestly, I don't think of Christmas as a celebration of the birth of Christ. I know that sounds so unChristian! But I feel like you should celebrate Christ everyday in your life.
I think of Christmas as spending time with my family. Late night dinners of chocolate chip pancakes at Village Inn. Weekends spent in cotton "Bible" gowns & headdresses. Choirs, Church, smelly fish, goats, playing at being a child of the butcher in Bethleham on a Disney Aladdin ice skaing set. Or cold nights with socks over my shoes in an old horse ranch doing the same thing. Or Ms. Becky refusing to wear her coat because it didn't match. A dark auditorium lit only by the candles of hundreds of people. Listening to my teachers taking turns reading the Christmas story on stage. Red velvet dresses, white tights, and melted candle wax. It's falling asleep beside my sister after staying up until we can't hold our eyes open, listening for Santa...those are the memories of my childhood.
When I remember them I feel like I'm home, and it makes me want to cry. It's sacred to me, because so few things make me feel like I'm home anymore.
I just re read this and realised that none of my Christmas memories involve waking up and opening presents. Not one. I don't even remember any presents I got (maybe on jewelry making kit.)The only one that involves Christmas morning is the fact that we couldn't wake my parents up until we had walked the dog around the block- rain or sunshine.
So tomorrow, and tonight, I'm going to try making some memories. I hope you do the same.
Have a Happy Christmas!
Comments
Post a Comment