I’ve been thinking a lot about Christmas. I’ve been baking, wrapping, washing things…like clothes, dishes, ears, small fingernails, what have you. I’ve been wondering. What exactly does Jesus think? We have such high expectations for HIS BIRTHDAY. Like at this time of year nothing should go wrong.
Things always go wrong. I have to keep cleaning toilets, I wrestle with the grocery store, people get sick…sometimes very sick. I feel like at this time of year I think to myself, “well, it’s Christmas, what a terrible time of year to get sick”. (And yes it is, because that to do list doesn’t quit). My expectations…if I’m not careful, I miss it. I can forget all the meaningful things that happen while I’m getting ready for Christmas. For some reason my brain tells me the happy joyful time is on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, Boxing Day, or what have you. 🙂 I almost missed seeing the funny, happy, joyful stuff. (Or maybe I’m cheating, or maybe I’m weird), I thought my month was pretty good:
Making biscuits and gravy with this pretty girl
Giggling with my friends over very inappropriate (un-pastors-wifely) things found in the completely trashed house our church had to clean out this month. Wow, that was a funny day.
Getting to go Christmas shopping ALONE. That was a quiet day. So quiet. Nobody talked to me. Good grief! (Except store workers which don’t count cause I don’t actually have to talk, just smile and nod).
Watching my children move the nativity scene around the living room getting ready for the Big Day.
Hanging out with my friend during my 7 year old’s birthday party in the DARK (Electricity was off for the whole day), boy we looked great in the dark! Then listening to about 5,000 neighbor kids (just kidding, like maybe 70 instead) blowing their birthday blower/horn/ (more like trombone) things while I was getting the cake ready. I was laughing so hard I almost dropped that cake!
Getting to go on a few extra dates with that handsome man I live with under the guise of Christmas shopping.
Laughing hysterically with friends about silly things. That I can’t remember right now.
Making cookies with my crazy kids.
Watching those Christmas movies with our family. I could really resonate with the Grinch. Of course I made the mistake of mentioning that to Michael, who from then on noticed more and more similarities as the movie went on. Helpful man.
Watching these guys weigh themselves. What?
I know, who would want to step on a scale in December? I think it all came from the boys arguing about who weighed more (women NEVER have that argument). These guys wanted to keep tabs on their weight so they thought it would be a great idea to leave the scale in the hall. I mean right? A 200 sq ft house could spare a foot for a good cause…so as they careen through the house, they can randomly pause to step on the scale for a bit and then moan or cheer over their new weight. As in “Moooomm, I lost a whole pound, why don’t I gain pounds?” (I don’t know child, maybe it’s cause you never stop running around the house…) “MOM, are you listening to me?” “oh yeah, buddy, I am.” This seriously happened several times a day for a week or two.
I love them.
So naturally I thought to myself “well, if he lost a whole pound in one hour, I probably have too…” As luck would have it, I happened past the scale one time too many and decided to have a go at it myself.
Ghastly idea. Terrible really. Whose idea was it to put that scale there anyway. In December of all times.
That magical month that is supposed to be perfect. When I weigh practically nothing, my house is spotless, don’t worry, it’s not. When I have washed and ironed clothes for us to wear the Sunday before Christmas…(for me that means checking to make sure my best jeans don’t have any spots on them). I realize that is horrific to some people. In fact some people try to look their best at Christmas. I think these same people wonder at me if that is really my best. I assure them that it is. It is the best I am willing to do. 😉 I also try to make sure none of the family’s jeans have any holes where they shouldn’t be or other general stink. I know. Low expectations.
Cause after all, aren’t my expectations just the thing that get me into trouble in the first place?
So peach pie. As I was pondering the little matter of high expectations and how they can make me miserable, I was about to cut and serve peach pie to my family. (My sweet in-laws cut and put them in the freezer this summer, but I now need room in my freezer for those blasted Christmas cookies). Ironically, the pie looked great:
Well, as it turns out, the pie was awful, so awful that when Michael took a bite, he bravely looked at me and said he’d wait for me to have a bite. I say brave, cause when my food doesn’t turn out, I may or may not take it so well. What with high expectations and all, I am sad to report…I was not cheery. In fact I did not pull out my Christmas spirit. At all. Add to that other members of my family loudly telling me that they would rather have cookies, or raspberry sorbet, or ANYTHING besides peach pie…well.
Alyssa wanted me to save it. She liked it. I love that girl. I did get extra hugs from everyone, I think that makes up for pie.
Merry Christmas Eve, here’s to low expectations!