Scrooge Lives

I have been having a bah humbug day.

I have been running around like a chicken with my head cut off (always a lovely analogy, don't you think?) for a couple of weeks now, and I am tired.

A string of lights on my tree has decided to stop working. And there are several strands that have had to be shoved back into the tree at least 3,213,546,543 times since it has been up because of little two-year-oldswho like to undecorate the tree. And three of our unbreakable ornaments have been broken since the tree has been up.

My oven also decided to stop working -- just in time for me to not be able to make the enchiladas or dessert for Miss Priss's class celebration last week. (They were celebrating different cultures -- enchiladas are not something we usually eat at Christmas!)

My kids are hopped up on too much sugar and not enough sleep and dreams of a big, jolly elf sliding down our chimney to bring them a whole lot of loot that they don't need and are acting like little devils. They are fighting, screaming at each other and at The Farmer and me, and acting wild.

I have been stressing out about the last minute gifts that I need to get -- including some things for my husband who is the hardest person in the world to shop for. And don't get me started on all of the gifts that we are obligated to buy for distant family members who we barely even know.

It is enough to make one want to cancel Christmas.

What I want is totally opposite of what I have been getting lately. I want perfectly baked cookies, cakes, pies, or whatever little Christmas-y treats I can concoct. I want a perfectly decorated tree and house. I want perfect little children who behave like perfect little angels and who get along all the time and who always use their manners. I want plenty of time to sit around by a roaring fire (we have not once built a fire in this house...) and our pretty Christmas tree and drink hot chocolate and cuddle with my perfect kids while watching White Christmas and Miracle on 34th Street, How the Grinch Stole Christmas and A Charlie Brown Christmas.

I want a perfect Christmas.

But I realized tonight as I was getting some frustration out by vacuuming that that is not what I am ever going to get. That is the problem with the secular world getting on the Christmas bandwagon (or should I say Holiday bandwagon) -- it becomes all about the cooking and the buying and the giving and the outdoing others.

And that is not what Christmas is really about.

Christmas is about us getting the greatest gift ever given -- our God came to earth as one of us so that He could ultimately die to save us.

Yes, I have known this, but sometimes we all could use a little reminder.

As I sit here now and type by my imperfect but beautiful Christmas tree, I can feel the stress just slipping away as I refocus on the real meaning of Christmas.

Tomorrow I will try to wake up and face the day differently. I know that not everything will go the way that I want it to and not everything will get done that needs to get done, but that is okay. Because I will ponder with my kids the wonder of this magical time. And, yes, we will still bake cookies and look forward to Santa -- and we will probably still have some fighting, grumpiness, and yelling -- but we will do it all with our eyes fixed on the manger that was the first stop on the road to the Cross.

The peace of God, which passeth all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God, and of His Son, Jesus Christ our Lord. And the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be amongst you, and remain with you always. Amen. (from The Book of Common Prayer of The Episcopal Church)

(My apologies to those of you who already read this on my other blog -- I thought it was worth sharing here, too!)