It's Monday.

January 05, 2015

It's Monday.

It's Monday. And not just any Monday; it's the Monday after "the holidays." Back to reality for most of us. While today causes many people to drag their feet begrudgingly to work or prompts parents to wake up at the first light to tote their kids to school, I find solace in today. Maybe that's in part because my current attire is a robe and slippers, with coffee to my right, and babe tucked upstairs asleep, but one can be sure. Or maybe it's because the laundry is done, and the pantry and refrigerator are situated for the week, a meal plan mapped out that somehow I wish someone else would cook. Although it feels nice to be on top of things (for once), it feels good to be on this side of the holiday season.

The Christmas season isn't my favorite, and it hasn't been for a long time. Each year, God seems to renew and redeem it in some way, but there's just something deep in my heart that struggles around the time of Christmas. I try so hard. I put up stockings, we decorate the tree, we do special things for others we know have less than we do, we keep a short list of presents to buy, but it seems that there's still a disconnect between these motions and my heart. In recently years, I've realized it's mostly due to the Americanization of it, how we like to pretend that everything is perfect- our families, our finances, our appearances, our homes. There's so much pressure at the end of the year to have it all together. It's exhausting quite honestly, and I don't do "fake" well. Maybe there's something magical about Christmas for some, that despite challenging or imperfect circumstances Christmas is an opportunity for them to put on blinders and have a small oasis from reality, but it's hard for me to do that. Maybe it's a pessimistic outlook or maybe I simply need to readjust my perspective. Perhaps I should count my blessings and put away my wounds around the holidays. Maybe, but is that real?

We have a few foundational principles we try to live by at our house. After we had Nora, Chris and I compiled a list of 4 or 5 core values we wanted to try to live by and raise Nora by, and being genuine is among them. I think I do a relatively good job at not being consumed by my struggle with Christmas each year, and I especially try to not flaunt my discord on the outside. I don't want to be a Scrooge or Grinch, robbing the joy that others might feel around this time of year, but I can't help but feel what I feel and anything but seems dishonest.

I read a blog before the week before Christmas (http://prairiejuan.wordpress.com/2014/12/18/merry-broken-christmas/), that spoke of the issue of broken Christmas'. It was the first time I have read or heard someone else acknowledge the issue of brokenness (imperfectness) surrounding the holiday of Christmas. She wrote that if we try to show up to Christmas as if we are perfect, with no need for Jesus, then truly we do not make room for him. We will be like the inn keeper, forcing Jesus from our lives during the season and putting him in a less than worthy place in our hearts, minds, and lives. This thought struck a chord and opened my eyes to the beauty of embracing brokenness at Christmas because it acknowledges that I need Jesus. And isn't that what Christmas, of all holidays, is trying to communicate? That we need a Savior because our lives, our families, ourselves are wounded and hurting and broken.

Every year my sweet mother in law buys each of her granddaughters a dress to wear to Christmas Eve service. This year she had 5 to buy for, and it was a true labor of love. All the dresses coordinated and were as cute as could be, and I don't know how many shopping trips it took to gather all the right colors and sizes. She put so much thought and effort into the dresses, and all the girls looked precious (along with the boys who this year got outfits too). Nora's hair was tamed, she had on tights and a white sweater; definitely the most tidy and put together she's been in months. During Christmas Eve service (only an hour long, mind you), she repeatedly called out, "Santa," was squirmy, wanted to be held, wanted to run free, quickly disheveled her hair, and removed her shoes. To the nursery mom/baby room we went! As I looked at this toddler of mine, far from the prim and proper appearance she held only but an hour earlier, the Lord taught me a deep lesson. We go to such efforts to put our best foot forward before Him. We try our best to look, feel, and act perfect before Him, but it's not long before our untamed, disheveled, broken, and imperfect reality makes an appearance. But that's who He came to save. He came to earth, symbolized at Christmas, to save our broken souls. Why we pretend we're anything but, I don't know. There's a beautiful and delicate thing about embracing who we are and the condition of our souls, and a security in knowing we are met in that place, broken as it may be.

As I continue to understand Christmas for what it really is, a symbol of God reaching down to broken, imperfect souls, a time where the wait is over and we get a glimpse of God's goodness towards us, a season where our hearts have the opportunity to slow down and reflect on the saving we all need, I am able to embrace it a little more each year. Each year that I can step outside of this preconceived notion that Christmas is a time where everyone and everything is or should be perfect and see that Christmas time is for the exact opposite, I learn to love Christmas a little bit more. So today, the Monday after "the holidays" I'm ready to get back to reality, a reality where I can acknowledge my brokenness on a consist basis and embrace the saving that comes with open hands to the gift of Jesus. A Monday hasn't looked so good.