A "Good Enough" Christmas

Is it just me, or does this Christmas seem a little different from years past? The house isn't clean enough; the tree isn't decorated enough (the ribbon ran out half-way down, and I have yet to finish it; several ornaments were removed after curious hands broke too many); the baking isn't done; cards aren't even started. My son swallowed a quarter last week and it has yet to make its way out. It's just one of those years.

I could keep stressing about it all and the lack of being the way I want it to be. Or I could relax and realize it is good enough and enjoy it as it is.

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I often wonder what Mary thought two-thousand years ago, as she prepared to give birth to her baby boy, in a place and circumstance that wasn't quite good enough. Far from home, in an unfamiliar town, with unfamiliar people. No family around. Her mother was not there to help her give birth, probably not even a mid-wife. And the location? Giving birth to God's Son in a dirty stable? Laying a newborn in a manger for feeding livestock? You've got to be kidding. Nothing seemed good enough.

And yet it was. Even more than good enough, it was one of the holiest nights (along with the Resurrection) in all history.

So even if things don't seem just so, let's remember what it is that we're really celebrating. Even the most bare-bones Christmas experience is still worlds compared to what the mother of Christ herself experienced. It's not about the fanfare. It's about the event.

Whose House for the Holidays?

Because we live so far from my parents (nearly 3,000 miles), quite far from my father-in-law (1,500 miles) and somewhat far from my mother-in-law (about 5 hours), who we celebrate Christmas with isn't much of an issue. We just stay home. Whoever would like to come visit is welcome.

However, when I still lived in my hometown, dividing up Christmas was difficult, to say the least. Since my parents were divorced, festivities were always split up. The big question was--did we eat Christmas dinner with my mom, or with my dad's extended family? Someone usually felt cheated. (I wish people would think through the long-term consequences a bit more before getting divorced, but that's another post for another day).

This week, Dr. Laura Schlessinger dealt with this issue:

"This year, it's Dave's turn to have Christmas with his son and daughter-in-law. But they now have a one year old baby and the daughter-in-law would like to leave Dave's home early Christmas Day [10AM] so they can also be with her relatives. [Last year, they were with her parents.] Dave's wondering if it was reasonable or fair for them to leave "his" holiday celebration so early."

Personally, I can see how the in-laws would be disappointed. If last year, their son and daughter-in-law were with her parents (and didn't rush to be with his side), then this year it only seems fair that they spend the holidays with her son's parents.

Dr. Laura answered the question in this video.

Basically, she said--don't make a big deal of it, and don't be petty. Focus on having a great time on Christmas Eve (the time they do have altogether) and have a fun send-off breakfast Christmas morning before they head-out.

How do you deal with deciding who goes where, when, at the holidays?

The Day My World Turned Upside Down

Growing up, I couldn’t wait for December 25th. But, for me, December 24th held all the excitement. My sisters, mom, and I baked cookies for Santa, peeled carrots for Rudolph and the reindeer, wrote notes to Santa, set up the kid’s table by the fireplace so Santa wouldn’t miss our notes and treats, looked out in the sky to see if we could see his sleigh anywhere, and eventually went to bed—vowing we’d secretly wake up and hide in the coat closet until we heard Santa sneaking through the fireplace.

I remember vividly the day I learned the truth. I was around eight or nine years old (I can’t remember exactly because it was so traumatic), and in the middle of a petting zoo on a family vacation, I asked my parents the question every parent dreads: “Is Santa Claus real?”

I can still see the scene with remarkable clarity. My mom looked at my dad and said, “Should we tell her?” They sat me down on the petting zoo bench and broke the news—“No, honey, Santa’s not real.”

I cried so hard. “No, he IS real,” I screamed. “He IS!” Onlookers gawked. “What is going on?” they wondered. As my crying-to-the-point-of-hyperventaliting continued, my mom and dad decided to try to change the story by telling me that he was real after all. But there was nothing they could do. I already knew the truth. In fact, I took the news harder than learning of my parents’ divorce a few years later.

I vowed that someday, when I had children of my own, I would protect them at all costs from the crushing news that Santa’s not real. It’s a white lie that seems innocent enough. But is it? When you believe something so strongly and so passionately, only to find out it’s all a lie, it is devastating. Absolutely devastating.

Furthermore, as a child, I knew in the back of my mind that Jesus played into Christmas somewhere (the whole baby –in-a-manger, Silent-Night thing), but it was really about Santa to me. What was Santa going to leave me? What was Santa going to write to me? What was I going to write to Santa? What treats were we going to leave him? Santa and Christmas were like best friends forever.

For me, there are more serious implications for perpetuating the Santa story. If we believe Jesus is real, but we teach our kids that Santa is real too, when they find out that Santa is a fake, are they going to think that Jesus is make-believe too?

The evidence is very compelling that Jesus is not only a real historical figure (unlike Santa Claus), He is the promised Messiah and Savior of the world. While you won’t find Santa’s Workshop in the North Pole, I believe with all my being that Jesus is alive today in heaven—a real place out there somewhere. Scripture affirms that He is coming again, not as a humble baby, but as a powerful King for which every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that He is Lord of Lords and King of Kings. While December 25th is debatable as His birthday (it probably wasn’t the actual day), the fact that He came to earth to die on the Cross for my sins so that I could live with Him and my family and friends in heaven for ever and ever is worth celebrating again and again every year.

That is why, to me, Christmas will always be about Jesus. It trumps Santa every time. Although the truth about Santa turned my world upside down, I am so thankful that the truth of Jesus makes my world right--eternally.


I know there are plenty of people who don’t agree with me on this one, and who believe differently than I do. If you are one of them and would like to discuss Christianity from a non-antagonistic position, I welcome you to email me at Cheryl@momsinneedofmercy.com