Mary Has Chosen the Better Part

Currently reading: still in the depths of Benjamin Franklin. As it turns out if you just read a paragraph here and there when you steal a minute or two to read... then it takes forever to read a book. Better than not reading though.
Number of cups of coffee gulped down this morning: wouldn't you like to know? Hmph. Yeah, like I'd admit that number. You'd probably send that info straight to my neurologist. I don't need that kind of blackmail information hanging out there.
Number of various to-do and check-offs and grocery lists and what-nots stacked up in the kitchen: too many.


I'm not the person who gets caught up in the Christmas consumerism. Oh Heaven's no. Have you met me? No, no, no. I am guilty of the same thing Martha is in Luke (10:38-42). Martha, as it turns out, is "distracted by her many tasks" (Luke 10:40).

In the Greek it actually says that she was distracted by her ministry.

So, what have I been distracted by this Advent season? Well, I'm teaching an adult forum on Luke. I spent a million hours stuck at our stove while I labored over caramel corn for librarians and teachers and various other people for whom we give thanks (side note: thanks a lot Houston December humidity for ruining so much of that). We brought cookies to the employees at the Goodwill near our house. We've got a huge thing of chocolate bark peppermint candy that needs to be packaged and given away. Gatorade and candy packets are waiting for the recycling truck guys to pass by so that I can run out with a cheering Nils on my hip. A hundred packets of Martha Stewart's hot cocoa we're made for the church Christmas party. I'm in charge of the craft for Nils' Christmas party so instead of being a "normal" mom and just buying some sort of kit I wanted to use things we already had on hand and created a bunch of snowmen for them to glue together. Of course. Logical. And all family gifts have been carefully created or selected, wrapped, and put away. Well, almost all.

Yes, Martha, I too have been distracted by my ministry. That's the kicker about Advent, isn't it? Even if you're doing good things, they can still be insanely distracting. And the problem for me is that I love it. I love all of those things. As my sister always reminds me, we all have the same amount of time and just choose how we spend it. I, for one, don't watch tv. And ever since my Facebook epiphany I don't waste much time online either. Thus, I have "plenty of time" (or do I?) for all of this other stuff.

Isn't it interesting that Luke notes that Martha was distracted BY her ministry and not FROM it?

My goal was to be finished with the lists after this weekend (which for us meant when I went to bed on Saturday). It didn't happen. Instead I turned into Martha, burned my arm, and stood crying over a pot of hot caramel. Had Jesus been sitting in the living room I would have stormed in and demanded that he send someone into the kitchen to help me. Man, I hope that batch of caramel corn doesn't turn out Like Water for Chocolate!

The funny (sad?) thing is that if I were caught up in the Christmas consumerism, that would be an easier habit to break. I think it's much harder to keep oneself from getting too distracted by ministry. Saying "I'm not going to spend $500 on electronics for our kids this year!" is much easier than saying, "We aren't going to give presents to our garbage truck drivers anymore" (because, duh, of course we are. They are the people we are more thankful for than almost anyone!).

So, what's the solution?

I don't know actually. Starting preparations earlier? Maybe. Typing up a list of things I do every single year so that I at least know what I'm in for next year? Maybe. Setting aside times for sitting like Mary? Yes. For sure. And, well, maybe giving up some of the ministry actually. Perhaps I don't have to do everything. Maybe the teachers don't care if we give homemade caramel corn or just pick up a bunch of Starbucks gift cards. Hell, maybe they'd prefer the gift cards.

But that's the problem. I don't want to give gift cards. I LIKE doing it all. I like handmade gifts. I like the thought and effort it takes. I like that my children see the work and love (and yes, sometimes tears) that goes into giving around here.

You know what would have lessened the stress this year? Had I not gotten rid of all my winter clothes last summer. I mean, in my defense, they were all way too big (woo!) but it is pretty damn anxiety-producing that we're leaving town for a wedding on Thursday morning and I LITERALLY don't have clothes to bring for all of the events.

WHY AM I BLOGGING WHEN I SHOULD BE BUYING SOME CLOTHES?

At least Advent is supposed a time of active expectation. Christmas is the time for joyful contemplation and celebration of incarnation. Maybe I'll just slow down for Christmas.

And maybe next year I'll do a better job at Advent.

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree!

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree, why must you provoke our poor Carolena so?

As it turns out, after several years now, I think we should go ahead and say with certainty that C is allergic to Christmas trees. Not allergic like sneezing and sniffling. Not allergic like a huge rash all over her body. Allergic like she is a little kid who can't keep herself from touching the tree (allll of the freaking time - like every time she walks by) and then breaks out in welps. Hives. Red splotchy itchy-looking allergies of swollen spots that she scratches at but refuses to admit hurt.

*sigh*

Poor Carolena. If only we could keep her out of the dang tree! It is very telling that she is my child that every year she breaks out primarily on her face and arms as though she has literally been snuggling in and hugging our tree.

She refuses to let me put Benedryl cream on her and instead sticks her nose in the air and says calmly in a snooty and dignified voice, "my body will take care of my body."

So I sneak it on her when she's sleeping.

This year we've finally realized "duh, this happens every year" and resolved ourselves to purchasing a fake tree.

And with that I announce the first resolution of 2016: No whining or ill-will toward or negativity about our fake tree! Not a word! Not a look! Nothing. Nadda. I will be fully excited and engaged. Because our poor sweet Carolena loooovvvvess Christmas trees. And, as it appears, cannot stay out of them. So we need to put a fake one out for her so that she can fully participate. Next year will be my first year of my entire life with a fake tree and I am determined to have a 100% good attitude about it. Because how could I do anything else for that awesome little spotty Carolena? And why did it take us this long to figure it out?

Oh Christmas Tree, Oh Christmas Tree, you are beautiful and you smell fabulous and we love you. Especially our cats who have consumed more water from your stand than you have. Thanks for a fabulous last year... at least until C is old enough to stop snuggling with the tree... which will be what like... 35? 37? 78 more years?

I Don't Want A Hippopotamus For Christmas

For pretty much every year of my adult life the adults in my family have struggled with what to do for one another when it comes to Christmas. The basic conversation revolves around whether or not to give gifts to one another and what exactly that should entail.

Perhaps I should sum up better than that: none of us needs anything. None of us (Kelly and Jimmers sometimes excluded) wants anything. And yet... all of us enjoy giving to one another. Christmas morning is kind of a bust with nothing to open (this is theory as it has never been proven. Honestly, I wouldn't mind just drinking coffee and eating julekake one year and seeing how it goes. I have a feeling it would still be Christmas. And man, if the coffee was unlimited... what a Christmas it would be! *gasp* OR next year everyone gets one gift: roller-skates! And then we take to the streets!).

So, this year we made up a new approach: no one is allowed to buy anything anything for any adults in extended family. Everyone is giving gifts to everyone, but all gifts must be something you already have in your house or made from supplies you have on hand.

The idea was one originally come up with as a way to encourage grandparents to pass along attic treasures that could be used/loved/displayed rather than sitting in boxes. But something wonderfully unexpected has happened: I've discovered a new level of generosity is involved in this type of giving.

Because there isn't anything of mine in our house that I don't want.

Yes, really. I get rid of anything I don't want. Pretty much the minute I don't want it. Which is why I have no winter clothes this year as last summer I got rid of them all. Genius.

So, that means I will have to be generous. And it's exciting! I can't reveal what I'm giving anyone as they all check my blog (or saaay they do...) and to be honest I'm not entirely sure what everyone will get, BUT I have to give generously as I have nothing to give from my home that I don't want. I won't be bringing a box of cast-off crapola to dump on someone else. I will be hand-selecting things that I see as treasures from my own home in hopes that someone else will see their value and treasure them as well. *wow* This is an unexpected result of something I thought would just be a fun zany new Christmas experience.

hmmm... I wonder how Trent is going to feel when I give him one of our cats...

"Bye-Bye Crib"

Carolena, July 2011

Carolena, December 2011

Nils and Carolena, June 2015

Nils and Carolena, June 2015

Nils and Carolena, July 2015

Nils and Carolena, July 2015

Nils and Carolena, July 2015

Nils and Carolena, July 2015

"Bye-Bye, Crib! Bed! Bed! Thank you, Mommy! Thank you! Bed! Bed! Thank you, Daddy! Bed!"

Nils, December 2015

So far, it seems to me, if I fully enjoy and appreciate and pay attention during each phase of life, then with the passing into the next I do not feel sadness. We took down the crib yesterday for the last time and I feel nothing but joy and happiness for our little Nils. Our nursery furniture was a generous gift from Chris' brother's family. It was the crib that held our niece and nephew. I remember picking it up from them while they apologized for Isabel's bite marks along its edges. I loved the bite marks. I loved them the entire time our crib was in use. It was a tangible reminder of the children this crib has held - cousins bonded together.

The crib is in the garage now. Nils has been politely (and sometimes not so politely) asking for a bed for some time now. I finally realized he is ready. He's known for a while that he is ready. I just took a little convincing. I was worried that he would be up all hours of the night prowling around his room. I'm sure nights like that will come, but his first night (last night) went exceedingly well. He was indeed ready.

Carolena, being the fabulous big sister she has proven herself to be time and time again, got in on the excitement and insisted that Nils borrow some of her sheets and comforter until he gets his own. I think, perhaps, this was best for Nils - better even than having gotten his own things right off the bat. The two kids bounced off the walls in excitement over the new bed, Nils' eyes lit in pride as he exclaimed over and over, "Bed! Bed! Thank you, Mommy! Thank you!!" and as soon as Chris got home Nils (ran for a tortilla chip and then) yelled, "Thank you bed Daddy!"

How could I be sad over putting the crib into the garage? It was time.

Soon, we'll pick up the dresser from my parents' house. We'll get the rest of Nils' room into "big boy" shape. And when that happens, the nursery furniture will find a new home- a home ready to welcome a new baby, hopefully a new baby who will ease in the pain of new teeth by putting more bite marks along its edges.

A Twilight Zone Christmas

If Carolena is the second to wake up, we like to get snuggled up together in my favorite chair (yes, I'm an old man and have "my arm chair") and gaze at our Christmas tree. One morning Carolena pointed out a particular ornament that my brother-in-law painted for me a few years ago. It is one of the very best gifts I've ever received and depicts Chris in clericals, me in a Donna Reid-esk red dress, and a small pink bundle in my arms.

"I like that ornament of you and Daddy" Carolena said and then she pointed to the one Bryan made last year in which our family has two kids standing with Chris and me, "and I like the one with me and Nils in it too."

"Look again at the first one" I told her, "I'm holding something. What do you think I could be holding?"

Without getting up to look at the ornament she guessed, "Meeko?" (her stuffed animal raccoon)

"Nope. I'm holding a baby in a pink blanket"I replied, "Who might have been a baby in a pink blanket that I held at Christmas time?"

She thought a moment and then in a very firm voice replied in all childhood sincerity: "Aunt Kelly."

If You Give Casey a Nativity Scene

If you give a mouse a cookie, she'll want a glass of milk.

People always check out nativity scenes.

And then people always look back up from mine and glare at me in shock. "Why is baby Jesus already in your manger?! It isn't Christmas yet!" and sometimes they even go so far as to start shuffling magi farther "east."

It happens every year. Every. Single. Year.
Evidently this is something akin to being a Grinch before his heart expands a bit. *gasp* Baby Jesus in the manger from the get-go! The horror!
And I don't know what I usually say, but it isn't this:

If baby Jesus isn't in the manger and the wisemen wait until Epiphany to get there... THEN...

Then why are Mary and Joseph there? Shouldn't they be traveling?

And if I remove Mary and Joseph too, then we've just got a nativity with shepherds milling about.
BUT WAIT!

If I'm planning to put wisemen in the nativity then there shouldn't even be any shepherds. Because if I have magi tucked away to make their grand entrance for Epiphany then we're going with Matthew's version of the nativity so it's a no-go on shepherds. And, actually, if that's the case, and I have a Matthean nativity scene then it isn't a manger scene at all! Matthew says magi visit the "house" (2:11). Hmmm... so if I'm going with wisemen then we ditch the entire manger gig all together. BUT...

But if I'm sticking with a Lucan nativity then we'll go with a manger scene... and instead toss the magi and bright star. BUT THEN the shepherds don't arrive until AFTER Jesus' birth so now we just have an empty barn. Except that people didn't have barns like we think of barns, they kept animals in little caves in the hillside so I've got to find a big rock and carve that out instead. SOOOOO...

So if baby Jesus isn't in the manger, and the wisemen are waiting until Epiphany, THEN why are Mary and Joseph not also on the road? Why are there shepherds milling about the manger scene? Who is making an appearance, shepherds or magi?! Should this all be taking place in a house or a small hill-side cave? AND WHY DOES MY NATIVITY HAVE A ZEBRA AND A GIRAFFE IN IT?!?!?!?!?!



gasp for air. gasp for air.
breathe.
breathe.

*evidently* I can't go for the "accuracy" of the timing of baby Jesus and the magi.

So, yeah, when you come to my house on December 6th, baby Jesus and all the gang (shepherds, magi, zebra, and giraffe) are all there in the very American Gothic style barn... just exactly as it happened so very long ago.

And if you ask me why baby Jesus isn't hidden away to be placed in the manger on December 25, I'll probably just laugh, and tell you that while I really don't care at all what other people do with their nativity scenes, mine just have to stay complete, because... to put it simply... I really overthink things.

Christmas Vacation

Our cats, Snot and Snot, are drinking all of our tree water. I thought that our tree was just taking up an enormous amount of water, but they've now become incredibly bold about it and just sit drinking the water like it's their own personal Evian bottle.

Someone has also been "nosing through the trash" and it's impossible to throw anything away in this house without C walking by, screeching that it's insanely valuable, and pulling it back out. Oh yes, I forgot that we needed to keep that Happy Meal box until the end of time rather than send it out for recycling.

Clark put up Christmas lights this year. Fewer than some of our neighbors but more than others and certainly much more than we've done in the past.

Aunt Bethany lives here too. I wish I could use pointer fingers to show where she is but... I have to use thumbs I suppose. Knitting, wearing crazy hats, hearing funny squeaky sounds... but there is something in the damn attic again!

What if the thing in the attic has put on an old funky hat and is teary-eyed and watching old Christmas videos?! Oh geeze.

Clark's been working on our toilet because "shitters full" - not really - somethings weird though as it keeps making a random flushing noise. Thank God I have a husband who fixes things.

Last year Cousin Eddie gave me the gift that kept on giving the whole year (a book of the month club that she made) and I opened the last one yesterday. It's actually the gift that will continue to keep on giving next year as well since I still have plenty of books to read.

Just kidding, Kelly. You're not Cousin Eddie. If I'm Aunt Bethany then of course you're Uncle Louis. hahaha!!! Oh HOLY MACKEREL - you're Uncle Louis.

Onward and Upward... Errr... Downward?

When it comes to my children, people are always telling me to "keep 'em little" because you know, "they are the best at that age."

I find this to be more than mildly disturbing.

Not that I don't think my children are fabulous... but because of what these kind of statements inherently say about the future: "Older kids suck" or perhaps "Life: It's all down-hill from here."

I don't believe that to be the case. In fact, I believe, if parents do their jobs right (which mine evidently did) older children are a blast. They come to your house with their own families and drink all of your wine and lie around on your couch while you care for the screaming grandkids...

oh wait.

*ahem*

I digress...

All this was merely to say that we are now a non-highchair family!
Forward ever forward. Onward and upward. All that jazz. Although... it was a HIGHchair so maybe we are technically onward and downward? Hmmm...

A while ago Nils decided he was ready for the booster seat (we have a window seat in our kitchen so he graduated to sitting in a booster at the table) and the awesome wooden highchair Chris' parents found for us when I was pregnant with C moved to the garage. Well, Nils isn't looking back... so we aren't either. And thus, as of yesterday when someone in need of a high chair picked it up from our house, we are now officially out of the highchair phase of life.

Just like that.

And despite the many recommendations of older people in the grocery store that I should somehow find a way to freeze time and force my sweet Nils to stay in a highchair forever, I am in fact not sad about it at all. Not in the least. I'm joyful that he is proud to be out of the highchair and in the booster. I'm happy that he is moving forward and would never purposely do anything to hold him back. I love that little guy with all of my heart and want nothing but the best for him. Why then would I try to force him to stay a baby forever? I'm thankful that Nils is growing and thriving.

So, red highchair, goodbye. Farewell. Auf Wiedersehen. Goodnight. Thanks for holding my babies. The littlest has announced that he is a highchair baby no longer and we know that another family is now thrilled to have you. 

And now we shall see what glorious things this next phase will bring... like not having to clean a highchair any longer (not that I did that very often anyway). And yeah, while we're at it I got rid of all of those little teeny tiny baby spoons too. Onward. Forward. Upward. Here we go!

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Sometimes a few days at home is just what the doctor ordered. And no, I don't mean my own grown-up life-in-suburbia two-kids-and-two-cats home. I mean home home. ET phone home. Big Money Texas. Beaumont, y'all. There's just something about driving down I-10 and seeing a huge alligator welcome you to Beaumont that just screams... well, I'm not sure what that screams actually... something.

Ah, yes, a few days at home with my family was wonderful. I slept in my own room. Well, for like five seconds. I slept in Hunter's room for two nights as I crashed while tucking in C and spent a few sleepless nights shushing N from Kelly's bed as well. Evidently we like to leave my mother with sheets to wash on every single bed. Sorry, Mom. Carolena came home talking about how the Piney Woods make you sneeze to which I like to respond in a weird creepy Cajun/country/made up accent, "Yyyeeeeppp, that's liiife behiiind the piiiine currrtain. I was born in that there briar patch."

I never claim(ed) to be normal.

We ate fabulous food (but awesomely not toooo much of it), danced the Charleston (because, duh), played games (nope, other people did that. I read BFrank's bio), and were just happy to all be together.

But, as all good things must come to an end, Saturday morning arrived and the piney woods had taken their toll. My sinuses have forgotten how to survive in such extreme circumstances. My children were exhausted. My mother was remembering her own Benjamin Franklin research ("fish and visitors" you know). So we loaded up the plethora of Coke glasses I'd reclaimed from the attic (I'm sure Chris is thrilled) and headed home.

We came home with a pile of dirty laundry (because I did not heed my mother's advice to wash it before leaving) and arrived to a completely empty refrigerator. So I started a load of laundry and hopped out to the grocery store.

Chris tossed our bags into our bedroom and we started hauling down the Christmas decorations. A tree was purchased and decorated. Lights were strung up outside. I pulled out white paper and started cutting out snowflakes galore. I have priorities after all. The laundry will eventually get done. The grocery buying can wait. But the joy and anticipation of Advent? The excitement and wonder of incarnation? The mystery of love and God among us in a hurting and war-torn world? Yeah, I'm ready to get into that. So we pulled out the things that we claim as "Christmas" and started pouring them all over our household. There is so much in this world that I can't control. There is so much anger and hate and hurt. But you know what I can control? Whether or not there is a 7ft tree taking up residence in the living room. Yeah, we're ready for Advent. We're ready for a season of hope. A season of reflecting on peace, on Emmanuel.

So this morning we awoke to a twinkling Christmas tree. A good-smelling-happiness-inducing slice of Advent. A reminder of hope. A reminder of peace. A reminder that God is with us. Nils stares at it in impish wonder and joy. His face glows in merriment that can't be contained nor described. "Tree! Tree!" he exclaims while dancing and pointing. Carolena sighs and stares dreamily at its twinkling lights. They know nothing of the hurt and pain of the world. They know only of love and comfort and joy. Children at Christmas time. I'm just ready for that.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come to thee, O Israel.

Expectant Waiting

For a pregnant woman, the last weeks of waiting are some of the most intense. The fear of childbirth and the unknown of when it will begin. The excitement of the baby finally arriving after so much waiting and waiting and waiting. The feeling of knowing it could be "any day now" or weeks of still more waiting.

In the gospel of Luke when we find Jesus anticipating his arrest and coming passion (ch 22), the Greek word translated "anguish" or "agony" leads us to view Jesus with every muscle tensed. That's the "agony" described. Agony is not a very good translation into English - but alas, I cannot think of a better single word either. It's not agony like the agony of stubbing your barefoot toe on concrete. Agony in this sense is more like a runner. He is like the last person in a relay waiting for the baton. Every muscle is tensed. The anticipation is palpable.

I like to see this particular agony like that of the last weeks of pregnancy. Every emotional muscle is tensed waiting. Could today be the day? Am I going to make it all the way to lunch? Will I go to bed in my own bed tonight or be in the hospital? Will we have a newborn here in a few days? Or next week? Bags are ready and by the door. A crib is set up and the nursery is clean. A carseat rides around empty in the car.

This is Advent.

This is how we are to await the second coming of Christ. Like a woman awaiting the birth of a child. Like a runner poised to grab the baton for the final lap. We are supposed to live in such a way that our spiritual muscles are tense with anticipation. Like the parents who paint the nursery and wipe off every surface in anticipation of their newborn child. Like the father who glances at his wife's enormous belly and decides to go to bed a little earlier just in case he's awakened during the night to rush her to the hospital. Advent is the first season of our church calendar year and it should not surprise us that this first season reminds us of how we are to live out our lives. We are to live in anticipation. We are to live in this type of agony. Waiting. Watching. Preparing. Living our lives in advent as we make our song, "Oh come, oh come, Emmanuel."

Know When to Hold 'Em and Know When to Fold 'Em

I don't play poker (just because I don't know how, not for moral reasons you weirdos). I don't play poker, but I do know when to hold 'em and when to fold 'em.

And by that I mean the one handmade item I've been working on for months, the one item I planned out last year and put into motion this fall, got folded last night. Well, not literally, as it is lying in a big heap on the countertop, but I finally set it aside as a loss.

Kelly was supposed to receive a beautiful handmade surprise from me this Christmas. I've been working on it and working on it and working on it.

But, mama said there'd be days like this, and it was time to set it aside. Evidently, announcing months ago "I'm not going to be too anal about this because I want it to look homey" resulted in a project that looks like Prince Gerhardt made it.

When I make something for someone I like to pour love and good vibrations into it. Though I love the idea of what I was making (which is why it's still a secret), the reality made me grumpy. So, there was that. Plus, last night when I imagined Kelly's friends asking her about the item and her saying that I made it, the humiliation that washed over me made me realize it's time to call it a loss.

So, December 8th, here we are. Nice to see you. Joann's, watch out here we come. New day. New plan. Luckily I have until Epiphany to get it together.

Tidings of Comfort and Joy

A few years ago when I was pregnant with my firstborn I found myself on the phone with my sister, complaining about all of the annoying things people say to pregnant women. "You look so big!" Wrong. "You look so small!" Wrong. "Any day now?" Wrong. No matter what anyone said, unless it was "You look fabulous," it was the wrong thing to say.

After listening sympathetically to my woes Kelly responded, "Casey, people just want to be a part of a miracle."

And my head exploded.

She was right. No one knows what to say to a pregnant woman (except me: just tell them they look good and then shut your mouth). Everyone flounders and says stupid things. People reach out to touch their bellies. Everyone just wants to be a part of the miracle.

We say that the Episcopal Church welcomes you. What we don't mention is the caveat: the Episcopal Church welcomes you... until you start celebrating Christmas earlier than we have deemed appropriate and then people start to lose their shit.

Until recently, I would watch my neighbors string up their lights in mid-November and shake my head, "It isn't even Thanksgiving yet!" I would hear the carols playing in stores and roll my eyes, "Ugh, don't people observe Advent?!"

Last week we were driving home and passed a few houses decked out for Christmas. I inwardly cringed, but then I heard Kelly's voice echo in my head (how does she DO that?!), "Casey, people just want to be a part of a miracle."

People just want to be a part of a miracle.

People just want to be a part of a miracle and they are looking for it in the wrong places. Each year we put up more decorations and bake more cookies. We turn on the Christmas music a little earlier and watch just a few more Christmas movies. Those things are fabulous, and certainly fun, but do not in and of themselves bring us to the miracle of the incarnation.

One of the overlooked aspects of Christmas is that the Church stole a lot of our Christmas traditions from others. Sure, the incarnation part is significant to say the least and wholly ours, but the huge winter party complete with tree trimming - that was originally pure paganism. No one even knows when Christ was born. We took some traditions from "the world" and work to make them holy. It's kind of our thing.

So why do we get so worked up when people start celebrating too early? People just want to be a part of a miracle. Plus, get ready... not all churches observe Advent. Gasp! Perhaps, instead of blasting them on Facebook and shouting about how it isn't Christmas yet, we should offer them grace. Perhaps we should stop worrying about the world stealing our Christmas celebration (much of which we conveniently forget has always belonged the world) and instead work to make this time holy. Why don't we work to celebrate Advent and Christmas in such a way that people look at us and know that there is something more going on then just a big winter celebration?

It is easy to point out the problems with modern Christmas. It is difficult to find solutions. Nonetheless, here is what I propose:

• This year, let's focus on holiness. Instead of being annoyed with others and the frantic Christmas present buying and all of the excess, let's focus on silent nights. Holy nights.
• This year, let's forget about that damn Elf on the Shelf. Everyone knows that Santa does in fact bring presents to the "bad kids" - let's stop the b.s. on that one and instead teach our children the truth: Santa brings presents to everyone because all kids are actually good kids.
• This year, let's not worry about what others are doing during Advent. Put up your tree, sing Christmas carols, do all that jazz in December. But then... celebrate Christmas. Celebrate the twelve days of Christmas (they start on Christmas Day!) with acts of love and charity. Christmas is so much more than celebrating Jesus' birthday. It is celebrating incarnation, the moment when the Creator stepped into his creation. We are an incarnational people. Let's celebrate Christmas by being just that. 

My plan for our family to celebrate Christmas this year is to set aside the 12 days of Christmas as days to reach out to others in love and charity. Days to focus on being incarnational people. I plan for us to have projects for each of the days of Christmas to make it a time that is holy. Cookies for the garbage truck driver, food for the food bank, bird seed scattered to the birds, each day we'll find a way to bring peace, comfort, and joy to the world during this season.

This year when I see people celebrating Christmas "too early" or in ways that I think to be shallow or irreverent, I will remember that people just want to be a part of a miracle. People just want to be a part of the miracle, so let's shower them with tidings of comfort and joy.