Confessions of not feeling guilty at Christmas...

Yesterday I read stranger's blog about how her family has changed the way they celebrate Christmas. They have stripped anything and everything secular from it. Her family felt they had lost Jesus in the celebration and that prompted a total re-do for them. Through-out her writings she would (in all capitals) be sure to write that just because they had made a change that she was not judging those who did not. In the end, though, I felt wholly judged and pretty miserable. Why I let a stranger's writings effect me so is beyond me. Thankfully, by last night, I let my husband and friends allow me to see things a bit differently.

What left me feeling like a complete Christian Christmas failure was that we do allow secular traditions to be part of our Christmas celebrations. I grew up celebrating everything but Jesus at Christmas and with half my family being Jewish celebrated Hanukkah too. My past-family traditions are not at all Christ-centered. None are against celebrating Him, just not focused on Him. We had no nativity. We put up a "Hanukkah Bush". Santa brought gifts a plenty. We celebrated being together as a family. We could not wait to get out to my grandparent's house Christmas afternoon. We loved going to my Aunt's for latkes and dredel games (I still love that waxy chocolate in the golden coins!).

As a parent, I wanted to bring some of those traditions into our family. Grant and I agreed that Santa could join our celebration, but on a limited basis. He gets to bring the kids a stocking. In no way does their behavior influence him bringing it. One aspect of Santa that I have never liked is the fact that you have to do something to earn his gifts. Oh wait...do I sense a teaching moment here in comparing how Santa and Jesus give us gifts???

Santa is fun. Santa is fantasy. Santa adds a little bit whimsy to the holiday. But, Santa is not why we are celebrating. He is a guest at our celebration.

Yesterday, I felt like I had failed our children and not honored Jesus with our Christmas celebrations...until our car ride home last night. The kids belted out Christmas songs. I listened carefully as Rudolph was followed by Come Tell It on a Mountain; and Frosty followed Happy Birthday Jesus. Our children fully understand that Christmas is celebrating Jesus.

I was concerned that we had bought too much for our family and perhaps our kids would grow spoiled as a result. Grant asked me to look back a month to just after Thanksgiving. It was then that the kids were clamoring to fill two shoe boxes for children they do no know, but knew enough about to know that they did not have all that they do. They carefully and thoughtfully filled those shoe boxes with toys and the like. As I had stacks of Angel tags on my desk they could not wait to pick just the right one. Their sweet, little hearts were anxious to go shopping for other children. During each of those shopping trips not once did either of them ask for something for themselves. I find that pretty remarkable for a three and five year old!

This week before bed, Grant has been reading the kids the Nativity Store. Each night introduces a character in the story. We have a set that has eight boxes. Each box has one of the characters. Each night the story asks what God wants for Christmas. The last box has a little mirror in it so the kids may see that God wants them for Christmas. It's very sweet. The kids LOVE it! They fully embrace who Jesus was, how and why He was born. (Cate likes to jump ahead to Easter most nights because at five, she already understands that without His death and resurrection, His birth is not as important.)

What I have come to realize is that I want us celebrating Jesus 365 days a year. I want our kids to know Him, to grow in His image and to strive to be like Him all year long. If we boil down celebrating Him to just these few weeks, what is that worth to Him? As mush as I abhor how commercial we have allowed Christmas to become; it would be equally as awful to make it legalistic.

Thank you sweet friends who made me see that I do not need to feel guilty for enjoying secular Christmas music; putting up decorations, allowing Santa to join us for some fun; maybe even spin a dredel; or allowing ourselves to ENJOY the FUN of Christmas while we do worship and praise our Savior.

Merry Christmas, friends! We do celebrate a mighty King, for whom I am thankful beyond words. I pray you find your peace in Him everyday this year as well.

Ode to a Wagon

I test drove a new car today. I felt like I was cheating on my old one. I had no idea I was so emotionally attached to this eleven year old Volvo wagon. But, I realized in the sea of change that has been our life it has been a constant.

You will notice that I normally refer to things as "our". "Our" children. "Our" home. "Our" love. Well, in the case of the Wagon, she is MINE. She is the first car that I actually bought. I secured the financing. I test drove her. I chose her. (Grant helped to find her and certainly helped me make my decision, but being we were just dating, it was really mine to make.) I was so proud of that purchase. Previously, I was a lease-girl. I liked shiny, brand new cars. The Wagon was my first used car purchase and she was just perfect for me...and ultimately our family to come.

I drove the wagon to my wedding ceremony. Grant drove Cate and me home from the hospital when she was born. Grant drove the wagon for a while so we could save money. That wagon was parked at my first house on Kenneth Street, it survived living in Springfield, made the move to San Marco...Monroeville...and Montgomery. But, now, it won't be traveling with us anymore. The Wagon will not be going to Nashville.

That. Makes. Me. Sad.

Sad to the point that I was teary as I spoke with the man at the dealership about her trade-in value. Sad that as I drove off in the soon-to-be "our car" that I was teary. Sad that when I think about not having her with not so great speakers, pealing leather, creeky struts, broken back hatch, slow pick-up and the 148,000 miles that she has on her...I just plain want to cry.

It is her time to go. And, quite frankly, had Ford not completely messed up making Volvo I would be putting some big bucks into getting her back to her glory. But, alas, she is not worth it anymore. But, for the memories that she quite literally carried, I might have been willing to spend the money.

So long my dear Wagon. You have been a blessing to our family, kept us safe and faithfully gotten us to where we needed to go for more than seven years. We will miss you!