Somewhere around December 26th or so every year, I breathe a sigh of relief that the holiday is over, that no more shopping is required, and no more money needs to be spent. Sometime around then I also promise myself that the next year will be different and I’ll actually budget and save ahead so that I can have a nice little nest egg to spend on Christmas gifts for all my loved ones. I imagine that I’ll have a beautifully (as in Better Homes & Gardens-worthy) decorated nest, entertain dozens of my closest friends with a festive holiday party, and there will be laughter and delicious food and warm feelings all around.
And each year I keep dreaming and hoping, and each year I fail to fully deliver on my promises to myself.
See, this is so unlike me. I’m a woman of my word. I’m reliable, steadfast, trustworthy, dependable, even stubborn at times, and particularly when I set my mind toward something, I always manage to accomplish it. Heck, look at my weight loss – I made up my mind I was done being fat, and I was. When I made up my mind I was done with a relationship, I was, he’s gone, and I’ve fully moved on.
So what gives with being unable to keep my own commitment to myself at Christmas and about the holidays? This totally baffles me.
What really happens is this: each year I am totally unprepared for the holidays. I never have as much money to spend as I would like. I always have plans for making so many thoughtful and useful handmade gifts for my family and friends, and I don’t complete them. In fact, I’ve only just now cut out the fabric for some sweet doggy beds for my brother in Kansas that I promised them last year. I should start sewing earlier, but who wants to sew fleece in July? I don’t host a holiday party, and sometimes there just aren’t warm, happy feelings all around. And one year, there was no holiday at all for my youngest daughter and me.
There’s always something that doesn’t turn out how I would like each Christmas. But truth is, it really doesn’t matter. Every year I get to this point a few days before Christmas and I realize that I have everything I need, and I toss aside the pressure of making the holidays look like a Hallmark commercial. I refocus, reprioritize, and realize what’s really important. The day comes and goes and I get to spend time with my daughters, my son-in-law, and my grandkids. People get a gift or something from me, but the most important part is they know I love them and I’m present in their lives. I remember what the holiday is all about in the first place – it’s, once again, not about the gifts, the perfectly decorated home, the lavishly abundant and perfectly cooked food on holiday tables, parties packed with friends and laughter, or any of that stuff.
For me, it’s about loving my family and being loved back. It’s about pausing for a day amid the fractured and frantic pace of life and paying focused attention to those I love. It’s about watching the wonder and excitement of my grandkids as they enjoy what Santa leaves under the tree – the magic of it all. It’s about remembering that I’m not alone and remembering to be grateful for everything I do have in my life.
It happens every year. I will succeed in letting my daughters know how much I love them and that I am always there for them. My family will know that I love them deeply and would not be who I am without them in my life. I will succeed in enjoying myself and experiencing love as it presents itself in my life. I will be – and am – happy.
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