I was reading through some drafts and found this. Funny, because our Christmas this year was SO different. Maybe I listened to myself for once. This year I really did get a do-over.
Today I woke up with the resolve to get X number of things done for Christmas and even had a list to follow. But, this day started its downhill spiral when my usually obedient two-year-old chose to disobey, resulting in the loss of one of my most prized possessions. He knocked over a table and a crystal candy dish that had belonged to my great-grandmother Fant went tumbling to the ground. Ordinarily, this wouldn't have been a problem on carpet. In this case, however, the green vase I purchased at Pottery Barn for 50 cents fell on top of the irreplaceable candy dish and shattered it into a million pieces. I was angry, sad, frustrated. As I turned to face my errant child, I looked into his big brown eyes and saw fear and confusion. He knew he had done something wrong but had no idea what that mistake meant to me. At that moment I knew I couldn't discipline him for his actions. He saw the tears in my eyes and that was enough. I sent him to his room so I could clean up the glass and collect myself. When I went to get him, he was sitting in his little wingback chair playing with my phone. He looked so grown up yet still so childlike. He said he was sorry, and we moved on.
Strike two for the day: getting to Wal-Mart only to discover the item I needed embroidered was at home. Awesome.
Strike Three: using too much white sugar in a cookie recipe because the recipe was copied wrong. Again...awesome.
It seems that NOTHING I've done to prepare for Christmas this year has been merry, magical, festive, or any other descriptive words for this, the "most wonderful time of the year". As I was rolling cookies into balls this evening, it hit me. There's only been ONE perfect Christmas and it occured 2,000-something years ago the night Jesus Christ was born. With all the Martha's, Rachael's, and Oprah's with their perfect cookies, yummo appetizers and luxurious favorite things, there comes the belief that it's not Christmas unless it's "perfect". On that first chrismas, there was no well-appointed table, and the party guests surely didn't smell very good, but all that didn't matter. What mattered was the tiny baby born to take on the sin of all man-kind. Born to free us from slavery. Born to die in order to do that. "Amazing love, how can it be? That God my Savior should die for me.".