On the Art of Nurturing Joy (Not Stress) During Holidays

"Glory to God in the highest, 

and on earth peace among those with whom his favor rests." 

Luke 2:14

The holiday craze has already begun, and all of my thoughts and preparations are moving faster than Santa's sleigh in a confounded mess of anxieties and inspirations that are tangled worse than last year’s Christmas lights. Am I supposed to break down the overwhelming tasks and emotions into doable increments, or is the assumption I should do that part of my problem? Money is tight. Time is tighter. Relational energy is tightest. But JOY can be abundant.

What a bitter-sweet time. 

So many joyful, wonderful events with loved ones happen during the holiday season at the end of every year. As a kid, these times were full of wonder and exciting play and goodies. A lot has changed since being a kid, though; some losses, some gains; and unexpected grief, but abundant joy too. 

This time of year is excessively busy for us. I want to enjoy every little festive event and aesthetic thrills of sight and taste. I think this will be the year I can pull off some kind of daily surprise for the boys once December 1st slides into play. Nope. This’ll be the year I don’t feel like a moron for making a pathetic Pinterest-esque attempt to express our love within our budget. But I like those. This--This will be the year I don’t have any panic attacks about relational emotions, packing, affording, or people-pleasing. But every year my expectations hit reality, two very different experiences. 

And yet every year, I am okay.

I release a little more of the superficial expectations and retain more inner energy for deeper peace about relationships and memories.

My husband and I will have been married ten years this December (Yes, we chose to add *another* big day to a season full of them. This is where I thank all our loved ones--again, but never enough--for not killing us that year when we chose that date. And not only did you not kill us, but you loved us so well. Thank you. It sincerely was the best time for what mattered most. I am glad it happened when it did. And all the decorations and pretty music everywhere are intended to celebrate our marriage, right? Haha.) Our first of three boys just turned 7 before Halloween. My husband’s birthday is around Thanksgiving, and our second son’s is in early December. So.many.activities — And all the traveling and planning and questions and messes of stuff in-between. 

We are finally learning to brace for the blizzard that brews in my exhausted, introverted head during this time full of people and plans and preparations and too.much.stuff. Learning how to soak up the priceless time with loved ones—who I truly desire to engage and enjoy—without drowning in the responsibilities is a significant goal for me. Years of practice will be required to make progress. I know what — who — matters most. I am loved well by those who know what matters. How will I overcome my assumed expectations that voraciously devour fruits of the Spirit inside of me?

The little stuff matters, like what to give our children under a sparkly tree trimmed with family-traditions-in-the-making, as well as how to keep our infant from toppling a tree or choking on Legos. And the big stuff haunts me, like how to teach them to appreciate the relationships with loved ones more than the wrapped toys — and to just be patient with them because they don’t have enough perspective for any of that to make sense yet. I mean, do we even have that perspective yet? Is that what this particular “On the Art...” is truly about?

It’s all progress, limitless improvements to make in tiny steps, and somehow finding peace about being who you are, where you are, with whom you fellowship right now.

• Kids like getting presents, and that’s okay. They’ll learn deeper appreciation as time turns.

• Messes will not be cleaned up when we’re spending many evenings a week with loved ones, and that’s (more than) okay.

• Interacting with people drains me. Some days, I’ll rest and recover with quietness or exercise; and on other days, I’ll find the courage to enjoy the company. Some people will misunderstand me, and that’s okay.

• I’ll be sad that my dad and others aren’t here anymore to enjoy our babies, laugh through a funny holiday movie, tell stories, or play, while feeling simultaneously joyful we have our children’s hearts to build with family moments — and their laughter to build ours.

• Practicing to be a tender presence of joyful hope during times of loss is a significant exercise. Because we each have heavy hearts about someone. And we can move forward together. It is okay to hurt about the past and grow toward the future... and somehow experience presence. How? I’m not sure. It is okay to take it one breath at a time. 

• I’m going to miss the days my parents were the Magic Makers for my Christmas morning, while pursuing what kind of Magic Makers my husband and I want to be for our children and their lifelong Christmas hearts, and that’s okay. Giving responsibly is a creative process of energy and self, and it’s okay to not be perfect in blazing new paths.

• Dreary days will be soul-tired, and that’s okay.

• Our house will not be as aesthetically-pleasing as the empty-nesters’ who host the party, and that’s okay. 

• Wrestling guilt that I can’t help all the people who need help, especially this time of year, is an important battle. I’ll do what I can. And it’ll be okay.

Expectations to do holidays a certain way are perishing... slowly. Many extreme emotions from sad to happy exist in a single moment; accepting this makes their draining presence more harmonious. People are individuals. We find some who get us. And we learn to love the ones who don’t, as well as ourselves. Pride and fear eat my joy, and I will continue to fend them off and gain strength each year to make the most of our wallet, time, and energy for blessing others. Money is not the only commodity to consider this time of year.

Be wise. 

Be kind. 

Enjoy. 

It’s okay. 

You’ll get to try again with learned lessons next year, Lord-willing.