I don't have a Christmas tree.  I'm not spending more than my monthly budget for one gift my child will use and eventually break.  I'm not planning on making homemade fudge.  I don't even know what the little elf everyone posts of Facebook means.  That's it.  I'm a looser Mom at Christmas.

OK ... for the sake of a good read I am stretching my small thoughts to the point of exaggeration ... but not really.  I don't have a Christmas tree because we are in temporary housing.  I feel  bad about it.  I have made paper decorations, hung cheap stockings by a fireplace that we can't work, and bought lots of candles that smell like Christmas in order to make up for it.

I am still sticking to our tradition of getting our children "one" gift and creating memories that will take them into adulthood with lots and lots of moments of reflection.

Fudge. 
The elf. 
It's all too overwhelming!



Momma's buy into lots of lies ... especially at Christmas!  Why can't we be content with who we are, how our family celebrates, how we make our season special just by being who we are? 

Girls.  As I get older this fact emerges ... time. flys. by. too. fast.  Tree's die.  Gifts break.  Fudge molds.  Elves go out of style.  Your children will not remember the hustle you took to create "the perfect" Christmas.  They will remember if you were there ... engaged and mentally aware ... during the season.

Last night it was chili in the den while we watched an old Christmas T.V. show.  It wasn't big.  It was spontaneous.  It was natural and we cuddled on the couch when it was over.  We made a moment.

I'm pretty sure the Mother of Jesus Christ was never featured in a Pinterest Board, Martha Stewart magazine or Food Network Christmas special.  She took the moment as it came - imperfect by earthly standards - and we all still talk about it today!

Relax fellow females.  Breath in the simpleness of the season.  You are who you are supposed to be.  Walk in it!

Christmas joy,
christina

... I've learned that when older people say things like "at least you have your health" or "don't take your health for granted" ... it's true.

No; I'm not 23 years old.  (Shocking, I know.)  However, for those of you have very little going on in your life and have kept up with mine, I have gone from a serotonin level of 7 to 23!  Normal is somewhere between 50 and 200 ... so we are making progress!

Back in the day, when you would receive Christmas cards in the mail with the yearly newsletter cataloging every detail of ones life, we received a letter from an "older" couple.  Their two-paged epic novel was chalk-full of health details ... very explicit health details that were frankly ... frightening.  In an effort to keep myself out of the "older couple who share frightening health details" category, this will not be a blog about my health.  Rather, it will be a blog of ... pondering what I've learned through my health.

I hate to be weak.  I think it stems from my later childhood/early adulthood.  My mother was sick for many years with a disease called Lupus.  She was unable to commit to much, had little energy, and often found herself in the hospital for long stays at a time.  I didn't look at her any differently, I just knew that I never wanted to be like her.

During the last 6 weeks, how often I have thought of my Mother.  For I, too, have been unable to commit to much, have had little energy( but thank God have not found myself in the hospital ... but rather some days in my bed ... for long stays at a time).  Here's the deal ... I've looked at myself differently.

Weakness is such a state of mind.  As I'm emerging from what seems to have been a physical cocoon, I am thinking that this being weak thing is not so bad, after all.  Being weak always takes the focus off ourselves.  I am selfish.  I like to be noticed for what I accomplish, applauded for how cute I am, and praised for doing something well.  There, I said it.  Now, if you are honest, don't you?

What being weak does is keep you raw ... and honest ... and not so cute.  I am reminded that who I am is never determined by what I do.  I know that doesn't make sense to most of the world around me ... and often I have trouble keeping that truth before me ... but it's truth.  I am not what I do.  I am what I am.

This week, when I wanted to put all the Christmas decorations up, impress my girls by the holiday cheer I could throw about the house in preparation for the holidays ... I just didn't have it in me.  Instead, I made cocoa.  Parker, my artist and Libby, my entertainer and I sat around the kitchen table watching "Frosty the Snowman" and cut out paper snowflakes.  I made some yummy hot cocoa ... and dazzled them with a sprinkling of candy cane I had been saving ... and that was the extent of my holiday cheer.



You know what?  It was honest, pure and simple.  Had I been "up", I would have been grouchy from working so hard on the house ... irritated that no one appreciated all my hard work ... and tired from my labor.  Instead, we laughed and sipped hot cocoa.  When will I ever learn ... that it's the simple things ... that really make living ... living.

Learning ... and being weak,
Christina