I have this peculiar reaction on the morning after Halloween: nostalgia mixed with dread. It’s the sense that while I’m already starting to plan for Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’ll miss out on something fundamental, something sacred. FOMO, nutcracker style.
This year I pulled out my sprig of holly and decided to spear that negative Nancy right through the heart.
See, I identified the source of that dread. And it was this sense that even if I could do it all – purchase the perfect gift for Luke, curate the cheerful-est decorations for the mantel, sing my heart out at church – that even if I could build up the kindling, lay the logs, stuff newspapers underneath the grate, I might not create warmth. I could do “all the Christmas stuff” and still feel a teensy bit empty inside. (I acknowledge that explaining a metaphor with another metaphor doesn’t encourage clarity.) “If you build it, they will come” is pure humbug.
What I am looking for this year is quietness of soul, and intimacy with God and with the ones I love.
Here’s how I’m scheming to get it, and I hope my “me list” will get you considering your own list.
1.I’m not checking the news. What does this have to do with Christmas? It’s about not letting anyone influence you without your desire or input. News outlets are supposed to report the news, but these days it comes with a heavy dose of opinion. This Christmas, be careful who has access to your mind and your will.
I’m starting with the news, but maybe you’ll need to unsubscribe from a few pushy email lists or limit social media. If influencers make you feel bad about yourself, foster anger, make you want to eat or buy stuff…snooze ‘em.
Let God have that precious space. Let your family and friends nudge a little closer.
2. I’m making decorations from natural stuff. No, this didn’t turn into a home décor email. My reason for avoiding shopping for or purchasing much commercially-made décor is that I don’t want to be told what Christmas should look like, feel like, or buy like.
Elias and I dried nectarine slices in the oven and hot-glued them to a dried vine wreath. With a few sprigs of faux foliage and a black ribbon, we created a natural beauty to adorn our mantel. Now we have a warm Christmas/Thanksgiving memory without a store-bought Santa to be found. For me, décor made from nature and using what we already have feels like creating a home, not shopping for garish tchotchkes.
We decided what our Christmas will look like. It looks like us. For you, shopping for a new Christmas village piece for the mantel may feel like Christmas. And if this is you, then do it.
But don’t do it because someone else tells you that you should.
3. I’m culling my Christmas playlist. People have differing taste in music. My kids light up at Jingle Bells. I’m more of a deep and moody traditional hymn kind of lady. This year, I’m considering more instrumental music. If it comes with a violin or banjo, even better. Again, for me, it’s about cutting out influence and mental clutter to make space for my own thoughts, for my God, to hear my spirit this Christmas.
I don’t need more words, even pretty ones sung in my ears. Do you need to change or silence the words, noise, hum and hubbub hitting your ears this season?
4. I’m prioritizing intimacy. When we’re lonely, it’s intimacy we need. The heart kind. The deep conversation kind. The time in intercessory prayer kind. The laugh-at-Christian-comedians’-impressions-of-church-folk kind. The warmth from the fire kind from my overblown, overexplained metaphor in the introduction.
Intimacy is the heart of Christmas as we celebrate welcoming Jesus, who came to bring ultimate intimacy between us and God. If I succeed at prioritizing intimacy with my people this Christmas, then I’ve done Christmas. If that means a Christmas party is dessert-only so I’m not too overworked when guests arrive, then so be it (in theory, since I’m on a diet, alas).
It’s going to mean setting boundaries and honoring them so that people come first in my time and in my attention and in my heart. It’s going to mean being intentional about invitations and visits and making those things happen.
Maybe some things won’t happen so other things, better things, can.
5. I’m deciding once where to shop. “Decide once” was an idea I read in Kendra Adachi’s book The Lazy Genius Way. In my case, it means ordering your gift from an online retailer (if I know what you want) or shopping for you at Home Goods (if I don’t have a specific gift in mind). That’s my store of choice. Everybody gets Home Goods. Oh, you like Target? Oh, well…can you hold my bag full of Home Goods gifts while I dig out your present from HOME GOODS?
Deciding once keeps me out of those stores and away from the *cheerful* holiday music designed to keep you happy and purchasing. Every year you see blog posts, articles, or news segments about how to beat the holiday busyness. And yet every year we do it again. How about we stop? Stay out of the stores.
Stay away from commerce and give your mind and soul space for God’s gifts of peace, hope, and contentment. Your feet will thank you, too.
What to do with my list, above: Burn it. Treasure it. Rewrite your own. This is your Christmas. This is your Jesus. Spend time with Him and with your loved ones in ways that give your spirit room for both. The greatest good of Christmas is that God so desired intimacy with you that He was willing to go to the ends of the earth, to the very death of His Son, to have you.
Do Christmas your way.
This is my way, and I hope it inspires you to make a list of your own.