The First Week of Advent
Well, the Christmas prep season has begun. You know, in the church we call these four weeks Advent, and it’s meant to be a time of prayerful anticipation and introspection. Kind of a cruel irony, huh? This time of year is the most hectic and stressful for my house. Both of my sons were born the week of Christmas, making a birthday/Christmas sandwich within the space of six days. We exist within a tax bracket for which three gift-giving holidays in quick succession is not merely a matter of clever planning, it’s a pretty major difficulty. I usually spend the month of December in a state of anxious agitation doing everything I can to make the season fun and normal for the kids without them noticing the struggle.
One thing that does bring me a measure of comfort is knowing that I’m not alone. I think of myself as being inducted into a long a noble tradition of parents tasked with creating Christmas magic with little to no resources. It’s impressive what we can do, and pride is a good antidote to worry.
I’ve been thinking a bit about “Christmas magic.” You know what I’m talking about, that feeling from when we were kids. It seemed so simple at the time, but now that I’m a parent I struggle to find what exactly was in the secret sauce. How did the Christmas lights feel so special? Are they the same Christmas lights I buy at the supermarket for seven dollars a string? Was it the music? And do Christmas Carols have the same oomph when streamed from a phone as they did when playing from my mom’s kitchen radio? If I can’t feel the magic, does that mean it’s not there, or do you have to be a kid to feel it?
I have had a couple adult Chritmases that felt magic. Incidentally, the cause of much of my stress this time of year now was, at one time, the circumstances for some of my most meaningful Christmas seasons. Both times I have carried a pregnancy to term, I’ve followed the timeline of the Blessed Virgin herself. The carols and imagery of Christmas have a different ring to them when you and Mary share a due date. The Feast of the Annunciation, the day when the church celebrates the angel Gabriel appearing to Mary and her consent is given to become the Mother of God, is within days of my Birthday. The significance of those nine months between my birthday/the annunciation and the the birth of Jesus/the the birth of my sons, casted a holy-feeling atmosphere over those years. I’ve never felt more in tune with the turn of the church calendar and the pregnant pause that is the season of advent.
The anticipation of recieving presents and eating special foods has lost a bit of it’s charm now that that anticipation comes with a heaping serving of responsibility and stress. The christmas magic that was the result of childhood innocence isn’t something I’ll ever be able to get back. I don’t think I’m alone when I admit that there has been a bit of grieving to do over that fact. But I’ve tasted a different kind of Christmas that has little to do with decorations or scents or sounds or any of the trappings of the holiday. I’ve experienced Advent as a slow inhale, the last calm before a storm of newness and hope. I’ve spent cold December nights like Mary, fearful of giving birth but ready for it to be over, feeling useless when there’s nothing to do but wait for that day that is both and end and the beginning of something new. This is a feeling that is within my power to capture again.
Between the traditions and experiences that make this season special for my kids, I am going to try to capture as many moments of that pregnant pause as I can for myself. Stillness and quiet within a flurry of activity and responsibility is Christmas magic for adults. It’s free, and it’s just within reach.
How do you make this season special? How have you managed the transition from childhood christmas to adult christmas? You know I love to hear from you.
