I'm trying, really I am.
Last night was bad. Very bad. I was lonely. The kids were miserable. Husband has to work today & possible Monday. The house was a mess. I flubbed up part of the Top Secret Project. It's been cloudy & rainy all week. Christmas Spirit felt like it was flitting about just outside of my reach. I thought about packing the little people all up in the van, sick or not, to drive around & look at Christmas lights in an attempt to cultivate it. Then I realized we couldn't because B.B. can't be far away from the toilet due to the antibiotics. Instead I stood in the laundry room & cried so the kids couldn't hear me.
I felt like an idiot. I am so very blessed. My kids are, if not totally healthy, at least getting that way. There are no major issues with their health. we live in a time & place where strep is easily combated with a week of Omnicef. My husband had a good job. He has a modicum of job security. We have insurance (making the Omnicef much easier to come by). Our furnace is working. We have a closet full of wrapped gifts for the kids to open Tuesday morning. The fridge (while running low due to a needed trip to the store) is not empty...neither is the pantry. Things are far from horrible...so why do I have such a case of the blues?
I'm the girl who normally starts singing Christmas carols in October, can decorate on Thanksgiving, wants to start shopping in August, has most of The Night Before Christmas memorized, a good deal of How the Grinch Stole Christmas, and am working on the Christmas story from the book of Luke (yeah, I know, I should prioritize better). This year I can't seem to muster anything resembling excitement about the holidays.
Then last night I finished reading The Best Christmas Pageant Ever to the kids. The Imogen Herdman was protectively burping the Christ Child and silently weeping, her brothers were bringing Him their Christmas ham, and Gladys was shouting at the trembling Shepherds, "Hey! Unto you a child is born!" I nearly wept.
It doesn't matter if I don't see a single string of lights, if we never listen to Bing Crosby sing White Christmas, if there isn't a single gift under the tree, if I never feel the need to bake a ginger bread man, if we don't get to eat ham & cranberry salad with our extended family. What matters is that God sent Jesus to Bethlehem 2,000 years ago. What matters is that the Lord loves me enough that Christ would have come if only to save me...if only to save any one of us. What matters is what Gladys Herdman shouted at the audience, "Hey! Unto you a child is born!" Unto you. Unto me. Unto us all.
They say love is a choice. This year Christmas may have to be a choice for me, but I promise, it will be Christmas regardless.