Checking it Twice

I'm tired of Christmas music now. At the beginning of November it seemed like such a nice cozy idea. Over Thanksgiving break when the Christmas shopping season begins, it seemed appropriate. But now, ten days out from Christmas, I'm done with that.

What I'm not done with is everything else. Just like always. I've finished the shopping, but when you live in my house, shopping is only part of Christmas. There's sewing and knitting still to do. The gingerbread house that somehow became a tradition while I wasn't looking? It's baked but unassembled and will need some major help from a tuckpointer I can tell. The gifts I don't have to make are unwrapped, stashed on my dresser, in my closet, under piles of fabric on the sewing table. My girls are still too young to go a'hunting for what they're receiving for Christmas, but I need to get my act together.

I've been going to sleep the past few nights going over my list. Making sure I have indeed covered everyone, and then the other things: baking, housecleaning (I'm Irish enough in my ancestry to want to do a whitewashing at Christmas time), Christmas cards, secret santas....not the most relaxing way to fall asleep, frankly.

This is the point in Advent when I have to stop. I have to breathe a bit into the stretch, as they say in yoga. It's a lot to do, but I know I enjoy 80% of it. The rest? Well, each year I'm realizing that if I don't do it, it doesn't get missed enough to be lamented. I cut my list down this year for lots of reasons. Several folks said "I'm so glad you said this because it's so stressful to have so much to do."

Which made me wonder if I could have mentioned something two or three years ago and gotten out of that task before. Nobody wants to be the person to break a tradition, but if it is obvious that it isn't enjoyable or appreciated, what's wrong with broaching the subject? If nobody cares about Christmas cards, why send them? Or why send them to 40 people when you can send three long notes to the homebound relatives on your list and make their day? Why exchange gifts with adults you hardly know--we were exchanging with Mike's cousins at one point--when instead you could gather for a meal together, or just admit that families drift apart with time and distance and stop spreading your resources thin? If a gingerbread house from scratch is more hassle than it's worth, buy a kit instead (that's the first lesson I've learned this year).

A few years back I stopped giving gifts as punishment (I know. I did it, though)--giving waldorf/montessori style toys to families who must hold stock in Duracell, how many battery powered toys they own. Making Mike's cousin's husband a cable-knit scarf, as gorgeous as it was, that I knew he wouldn't appreciate like he would have the $35 Borders gift card I was ordered to give him. It was my private rebellion, but you know what? That's not what Christmas is about. And I let that go. This year I'm letting other things go, too.

But I pick up new things. I'm not losing all my traditions and obligations just to turn Advent and Christmas into ordinary days. My parish's advent concert. Cutting our own tree (which is one I'm keeping as opposed to being new). Trying a new cookie recipe. Reading Christmas stories at bedtime. My brother-in-law and his girlfriend have started watching all the Christmas episodes from the shows they love. I like that idea. I'm going to try my hand at an amaretto slush this year, a suggestion from my pastor who likes the bourbon version I make but his family goes with amaretto. That way my sister Colleen can join in without breaking out into hives. Sophia is learning carols on the piano and I'm attempting to learn one on guitar. Just to share with each other, not to tour.

And someday when my kids are grown one of them might turn to me and say "Mom, do we have to sing this year before we open presents?" or "let's make sushi for Christmas Eve dinner this time." And it will be hard to go along with it. But as I said in an advent planning meeting at church, that's the nice thing about the circle of a year, or the idea of a liturgical year at all. If something doesn't feel right this year, we can always go back to how we did it before. We have a lifetime to yearn for perfection. God revels in weakness that tries. I continue to try.