“Last year we did Christmas at my parents’ house, his parents’ place, his brother’s house, my first cousin-once-removed’s, and our mailman’s house. It was too much. Never again.”
Chances are, you’ve said those exact words at some point. Or something like them (the “spending Christmas at his parents’ place” might be a stretch – I’d totally understand if you wanted to take a year off from his dad’s time-honored tradition of singing along to Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer every time it comes on, which is all day long, since he still doesn’t know how to work a CD player and hits the repeat button every time he plays it. Also, who still has a CD player?).
Sure, we love the time with family. We love hosting. We love planning. We love exchanging gifts. We love the breaks from school and work. But when did Christmas become something that we “do”? When did it stop being something He already did – something that we simply celebrate and ponder?
But when did Christmas become something that we “do”? When did it stop being something He already did – something that we simply celebrate and ponder?
If Christmas becomes more and more about something we do each year, should we be all that shocked when more and more it also underwhelms? Leaves us wanting more? Disappoints?
Now I’m not saying you can’t enjoy a cup of eggnog, shrimp cocktail, meatballs, puppy chow, those tantalizing little smokies, chex mix, an assortment of cheese and crackers, fudge, and a few Christmas cookies here and there. After all, I’m pretty sure that’s what Mary served the shepherds when they visited Jesus. But either way, I bet that first Christmas didn’t disappoint, because it wasn’t something they did; it was something God had done.
And it was marvelous.
Maybe don’t stress out about “doing Christmas” this year. God already did it. Let that be enough, and simply take more time to treasure it in your heart as Mary did. That we can do.