The Real Christmas

One week before Christmas in 1984 I broke out in full body hives. That is how excited I was for Christmas to come. I love Christmas. Unequivocally it is my favorite time of the year. At thirty-six I get as almost as excited about it as I did when I was eight and had to scratch my way to the big day. 

Now, as then, I adored everything about the season. The decorations, the music, the cheesy pictures with Santa at the mall, the red and green construction paper chains made with Elmer’s glue, drug store advent calendars, singing along with Bing Crosby as he croons in White Christmas, the hot cocoa and carols.

Back then, nights would find me lying on the floor next to our lighted Christmas tree when everyone else had gone to bed, un-focusing my eyes until the multi-colored twinkling lights would turn into a galaxy fuzzy orbs hanging in space. It was my own peaceful Christmas meditation.

And then there was my grandma, she loved Christmas too. It was an event to go to her house and put up the decorations. Grandpa would bring in a fragrant pine tree and we would put Andy Williams on their 1950’s record player. As the vinyl records would hiss and pop and play It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year we would carefully place antique glass ornaments on the tree. Last of all a paper angel that had been in the family for generations would complete our tree trimming. That place was a little piece of heaven.

Sitting next to the front door in her house was a little nativity scene. Mary, Joseph, and the baby Jesus were painted in fading pastel hues. One of the cows lying next to the manager was missing an ear, knocked off years earlier by some clumsy observer. I would look at that nativity and imagine what it must have been like to be there on that night. I always felt warm and happy when I gazed at that scene. 

I knew that Christmas was about the birth of a baby, a very special baby. I knew that we sang about Him and talked about Him at church but the connection between the feelings of love and peace that I felt around December had not connected with that person. 

Fast forward about twenty years. I had made a conscious decision that I was going to figure out how to really get to know the Savior. I had heard people talk about if forever, having this personal relationship with Christ. How did one have that when He wasn’t physically present? Intellectually I knew the doctrine, I had seen miracles and blessings, I believed, but knew that I was missing something significant. 

That decision sent me to the scriptures where I read every single thing I could find that Christ had said Himself. I then moved to modern day prophets and buried myself in Talmage and McConkie. I prayed fervently to receive that relationship. Over a three year period I learned wonderful and amazing things about the Lord, my testimony increased, but still I did not feel an emotional link to Him. What was I doing wrong?

With this weighing on my mind I was asked to sing in the choir for the Christmas Cantata the ward was putting on. I attended the practices and enjoyed expressing the love I had for Christmas in a musical way. I was also singing alto in a beautiful arrangement about Mary for the same concert. 

The night of the performance was going well and there was just one hymn to be sung by the choir before I was up. It was a hymn I had sung hundreds of times and was honestly not one of my favorites. The piano played the introduction and I sang:

“The first Noel the angel did say

Was to certain poor shepherds in fields as they lay,

In fields where they lay keeping their sheep

On a cold winter's night that was so deep.

Noel, Noel, Noel, Noel!

Born is the King of Israel!”

As the harmony of “born is the King of Israel” left my lips something slammed into my chest. I felt it physically hit me with all-pervading force. It took my breath away. Stunned and overwhelmed, I tried to process the feeling that was enveloping me head-to-toe. It was familiar. I immediately recognized it as the same one I had while I looked at the little nativity all those years ago, just intensified. 

Much like the Grinch from Dr. Suess I experienced my heart growing three sizes up there on the stand. I knew for a fact that the Lord loved me. I recognized that I had been feeling it all along and not recognizing it. At the birth of my children, at my grandma’s funeral, in kind things people did and said, in sunsets, and in music. Every day it had been there, lifting and helping me along.

Tears streaming down my face, barely able to function, I stood up and choked out my part in the quartet. I looked like a lunatic and got a lot of raised eyebrows as I bawled in front of 150 people, but wouldn’t trade that moment for anything. 

I finally knew why I loved Christmas so much and realized I could have it with me all the time. My prayers had been answered. It was so simple.

I learned that the key to Christmas is this. "The real Christmas comes to him who has taken Christ into his life as a moving, dynamic, vitalizing force. The real spirit of Christmas lies in the life and mission of the Master....

"If you desire to find the true spirit of Christmas and partake of the sweetness of it, let me make this suggestion to you. During the hurry of the festive occasion of this Christmas season, find time to turn your heart to God. Perhaps in the quiet hours, and in a quiet place, and on your knees—alone or with loved ones—give thanks for the good things that have come to you, and ask that His Spirit might dwell in you as you earnestly strive to serve Him and keep His commandments" (Howard W. Hunter, " The Real Christmas," Ensign, Dec 2005, 22–25).

I pray that you have the sweet Spirit of the Lord with you this Christmas season and that you find the moments to let Him into your heart. 

Cheers,

Brenda

Christmas Letters

Every year about this time I start thinking about writing the “Christmas Letter”. You know, the letter that you send out with an adorable picture of your kids telling all of your near and dear just how fabulous your family is. The Christmas Letter is sort of like a resume. You polish all of your collective accomplishments of the past year and play down the unsavory stuff to prove that you are indeed supermom of a near perfect family. You top it off with just a touch of appreciation and humility so that the people you send it to will give you their stamp of approval and not think you are too full of yourself.

The Christmas Letter is written partly as a misguided attempt to prove to the world that I'm striving to live up to the Savior's call to "be ye therefore perfect" as well as a defense against the letters I know are coming my way from my truly talented friends. It’s important to make sure that I'm performing at a level similar to them or I lose the game, and as a competitive soul I hate to lose.

The letter I send out usually goes something like this:

Dearest Loved Ones,

What a blessed year we have had as a family. Buns and I have been working hard,volunteering in the local school, supporting our talented and brilliant children in their pursuits, serving faithfully in church callings, and going to school ourselves with amazing results.

David is 15 this year and the star of the football team, Andrew is 14 and genius at the Baritone, Bella is 8 and a straight A student, and our adorable Sam is in Pre-K this year and may possibly be the brightest student in his class.

We wish you and yours a wonderful New Year and appreciate your friendship more than we can say.

Love,

…

All of that is generally true with some literary embellishment thrown in, but if we are going to be 100% honest it should read something like this:

Hey Everybody,

Holy Cats! Is it really time to write this stupid letter again? 

Anydoodles, it has been a busy year. Buns and I are keeping this whole operation going with sweat, sheer determination, and a whole lot of divine intervention.

Unsurprisingly, we were both roped into time consuming volunteer activities at the kids’ school and motivated to accept the positions mostly out of guilt. That’s what good parents do right? It’s fulfilling to help create a better school but most of the time it involves working at the concession stand for home games. Popcorn anyone? 

Along with full time work, school, being the town taxi, and trying intermittently to have Family Home Evening and scripture study, I cling to sanity and from time to time actually get everything done. Buns and I both have church callings that require quite a bit of prep time but mine usually gets about 30 minutes of attention early Sunday mornings followed by prayers of repentance that “next week I will promise to spend more time on this Father if you will only help me out this one time”.

The kids are great. David plays football but has spent most of the season out with one sort of injury or another. Injuries that make his mother hyperventilate to the point of unconsciousness. I am proud of him for sticking to it, but spend copious amounts of time trying to figure out what will happen if I tell my kid it is ok to quit something he has committed to. Will it teach him to abandon any difficult situation that comes up for the rest of his life, dooming him to live as a slacker in a van down by the river? Will it destroy his future as a competent member of society?

Andrew is an phenomenal baritone player in the band and spends ridiculous amounts of time practicing with them. All of which is required by the band teacher who seems to have no idea that parents actually want to see their children more than 10 minutes a week. I am proud of him and excited the band does so well but once again feel like a miserable parent for whining about the schedule they have him on.

Bella is a straight A student. This happens despite the fact that I forget on a regular basis to have her study her 2^nd grade spelling words. I also allow her to watch idiot cartoons that will reportedly “rot her brain”. On top of this she basically lives on mac and cheese and grapes and I am too tired to fight her into eating her green vegetables. 

Sam is adorable and bright even though he is not read to every single day as Sesame Street informed me is required. We try, but like everything else it is an uphill battle. He is obsessed with tornados and draws a picture of one in school every morning. His teacher is convinced that we regale him with scary stories of storms all the time since he is so worked up about it. Really I think it comes down to the fact that we let him watch “Storm Chasers” with us, another parenting no-no. I’m sure in the official handbook it says something about not exposing 5 year olds to high drama reality TV.

Hope you are all surviving. Can't wait to get your letters so that I can compare my life to yours and realize even more acutely that I'm a terrible mother.  Merry Christmas!

Love,

…

Obviously when my brain takes me on this little adventure every year I have fallen into one of the great traps of the adversary. It is designed to get me to body slam my own psyche with piles of guilt and focuses me on all the wrong things. The Lord never said perfect meant that every minute of every day we have to live like a family of airbrushed catalog models. He asks that we follow His commandments which all comes down to loving others. 

Does the Lord want me to look like Heidi Klum, have an IQ of 212, have as much money as Donald Trump, and never ever make a mistake? Of course not.

What He wants me to do is love my family, neighbors, and even  my enemies. He wants me to spend time serving them. He wants me to strive to do that perfectly and even in that effort I am going to come up short.  Elder Nelson helps with this. "We need not be dismayed if our earnest efforts toward perfection now seem so arduous and endless. Perfection is pending. It can come in full only after the Resurrection and only through the Lord. It awaits all who love him and keep his commandments."

So note to self. Drop the guilt, stop running yourself into the ground for not being June Cleaver, and just do what you can do. Your kids are going to turn out alright even if you're not Wonder Woman. Your family and friends will still love you if you're human from time to time.You'll get to perfection eventually, and with the Lord's help is is going to be awesome.

Cheers,

Brenda