Stressed out over holiday
It is only a few days before Christmas, and I am not ready. My cookies are not all baked, and the ones I made were excessively grazed over by my three teens and pre-teens. The empty coffee creamer bottles had been saving in anticipation of making them into snowmen still sit empty atop my desk. (Who was I kidding when I thought I would actually complete one of the many things I have pinned on Pinterest?) And the gifts, though purchased, are yet to be wrapped.
Actually, I can’t even say that all of my gifts have been purchased. If I know I won’t see you before Christmas, know I haven’t shopped for you yet. If you stop by unexpectedly, don’t expect it. Please. I’ll have to shove a sad-looking plate of cookies at you, and nobody wants that!
I really was trying to keep things simple this year, but I still feel stressed. Stressed because I have to keep a spray bottle IN MY HAND at all times to deter the cats from climbing the Christmas tree. They have eaten some of the lights off the strand, so now they don’t light up anymore. My garland – a lovely, handmade red and cream number – basically looks like I tossed it at the tree instead of how carefully I placed it in alternating waves.
Oh, and the gifts I wrapped – let me rephrase, HAD wrapped – need redone because the cats love to chew cardboard and removed the paper to accommodate this desire. (One package contained some suet cakes for a bird lover, but now there are only crumbs remaining because one of these four-legged darlings ate it. Not enough to get sick, mind you, only enough to make an absolute mess of the box.) Thanks, Bella.
So I’ll plug away this week, trying to make things perfect. Trying to create that Norman Rockwell experience. Trying to get this house to look “Christmas-presentable” for my kids.
And then, on Christmas Eve, I’ll head to church to sing in the choir and watch my son light the candles. And in the glow of the candlelight, I’ll hear the pastor speak about how Jesus came to Earth to save mankind from a fate worse than death, and how there was nowhere presentable for him to be born, either.
I’ll be reminded Christmas isn’t about presents, the tree or cookies. I’ll be reminded my huge God came in the form of a tiny baby to tell the world there is more to life than a house decked out perfectly in lights, or whether you have the ability to craft garbage into something worthy of gifting.
I’ll recall love is the only thing I need in my home to be ready for Christmas. Love for the savior whose birth we celebrate. Love for my husband, who provides for us daily. Love for these kids who drive me crazy.
Love for those hurting in the world.
I’ll remember God doesn’t expect my house to be ready, only my heart.
And I don’t have to wait for the pastor to tell me that. I can prepare that place for Jesus today.
Laura Zoeller can be reached at zoeller5@verizon.net.