I just don’t feel like this is a question Todd ever gets. Moms, women, on the other hand, this is our seasonal greeting to which there is no appropriate affirmative reply. How could there be? How can she be? I’m thinking what we’re being asked is, Have you finished your shopping, do you have your menus thought out, are the beds made for out-of-town guests, have you mailed your cards and packages, is your decorating where you like it, have you made and taken neighbor gifts, are you organized and have you finished The List? If that’s the criteria, who can do anything but shrug and shake her head? Every now and then I bet there’s one out there who’s got it all handled, like she does the rest of her life, everything ordered, delivered, prepared, thought out, done and wrapped with a bow.
But then there’s me, gracing Target sometimes daily the week before Christmas, constantly trying to balance the stocking scales, wracking my brain and checking my lists to ascertain the equality of it all. I thought we were done with pjs, got disappointed reactions, and the quest began; at this point, all they have left is rust in xs and xxl that will arrive January 9th. I’ll suddenly recall someone in my sleep I should’ve remembered but forgot. It’s like having to give a speech and reworking it over and over and over till you finally just have to give it. Christmas for a mom is akin to the anticipation of waiting to have grades posted.
So if someone asks if I’m ready for Christmas and I’m thinking in technicalities, the answer will always and forever be a gracious version of Are you kidding me? I’m like all of you: I try to be organized, to start early, to rely heavily on my spreadsheet, to use lists and checkmarks. I simplify in every way possible, have given up making ornaments and crafts and delivering neighbor treats and taking family pictures. As I age, I’m learning to not waste seasonal energy on tasks that don’t bring us joy. But even with an October head start, I’m still not anywhere close to the finish line.
But am I ready for Christmas? For sure. Emphatically yes. I’ve been ready since fall but officially since November 1st when Christmas music premiers in our house.
After an intense summer and fall working the grounds, traveling, and harvesting, I’m always ready for the sun to turn in a little earlier, for the crisp days to visit for a while, to try on my sweaters and jeans again, to watch some shows. I’m ready for the first snowflakes and our tree hunt with lunch on the mountain. I’m ready for The Stroll, for snowy music-filled streets with shops open late, beckoning us in with festive treats and the hottest of hot chocolates.
I’m ready to pull out my nature-themed wrapping paper and to set out votive trios on our window sills. I’m ready for the traditional dinners and gatherings with friends, a slowed pace in which to puzzle, the smells of gingerbread and wassail, the delicacies we spoil ourselves with but once a year. I’m ready to make flavored pretzels and sticky toffee pudding and poppy seed potatoes and sugar cookies. I’m ready to bring random treats if we feel like it. I’m ready to let go of obligations.
I’m ready to open holiday cards from far-off family friends, to try to reconcile the now-grown people in the pictures with the kids I once babysat. I’m ready to sit down and review the year and create our own memory letter. I’m ready to make my list of people to shop for, to gather ideas to go with their interests. I’m ready to think about what my kids want and need. I’m ready to shop for our extended families and others we love.
I’m ready for the music that follows us throughout the house and our rooms and into our cars, everything from traditional carols to the newer stuff, there’s hardly a song we don’t like. I’m ready for concerts, bands, choirs, plays and music programs of all kinds. I’m ready to see the tiny twinkles on the houses and businesses and at the zoo. I’m ready to turn off all the big overheads at home and sit by the fire with just the ones on the tree and above our cabinets. I’m ready for even our bathrooms to share their little lights mixed in with holiday garland and berries. I’m ready to come inside and be home for long spells when it’s cold and dark. I’m ready for more family time, for cozy hygge. I’m ready to welcome family and friends in, to cook and coddle them, for comfortable conversation and quiet afternoons for reading alone.
I'm ready for the world to settle down, to call an armistice, a time out for peace. I’m ready for the unity I know I always feel a little more of at this time of year. I’m ready to bow out of the materialism and make a homemade Christmas. I’m ready to bring in the boughs and to add Christmas ribbons to all my flat surfaces. I’m ready to gather pinecones and to hang wreaths. I’m ready to breathe in the cinnamon, clove, nutmeg scent of my simmering oranges. I’m ready for family time, reflection, a little more attention to serving. I’m ready for the stories from the olden days that we read aloud at night by the tree. I’m ready for my naps with Finn curled up beside me and then waking up to snow and frost-covered limbs right outside our picture windows.
I’m ready to give. To express gratitude. To notice all that we have. To find ways to pay it all forward. I’m ready to slow down, to think of what this all means, to be mindful about how we spend our time and our resources, and to align ourselves with what matters the very most to us.
When I think of all the opportunities this season offers us, I can’t help but be delighted that it’s finally here! Yes, there are traditions we want to execute. And yes, we want those around us and those far away to know we’re thinking of them, that we love them. Of course. Anything of consequence takes effort and thought, but when we’re more concerned with sharing ourselves and being present, that’s Christmas.
So who knows what the answer should be when all people are really doing is making small talk. I suppose I’ll never be quite ready in the traditional sense. There will always be a gift I’ve forgotten, a food that flops, lights that quit working, cards that get returned, disappointment that someone is not here, a little regret that I couldn’t or didn’t do more for those in need. But I’m ready to embrace the season, its beauty and magic, the traditions and memories, the togetherness and tenderness, the calm and the joy. When I think of Christmas within this context, I wonder if we’re all more ready for it than we think. ;)
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