Our lives have been in uproar lately. In short, we drove 13 hours through the night and back to spend Thanksgiving week with family we love dearly. We arrived home at 7am on a Sunday. On Monday morning I helped Jonathan repack the kids and sent them off to Florida, where his grandmother was in her final days on this earth. On Tuesday evening I returned to work for the first time, 10 weeks since we brought our sweet girl home. 5 minutes after I arrived at the nurse's station, I received a call from Jonathan telling me his grandmother had breathed her last breath in peace. While they grieved 300 miles away, I completed my first week of work. On Friday morning I got off work and promptly packed my bags to head to Florida to be with the family. My very generous, loving stepdad drove me down there, as he feared my ability to accomplish such a feat myself after a 12.5 hour shift. Good call. I wouldn't have made it. Anyway, I spent a whole 24 hours mourning with the family before reluctantly returning home, this time with the kids in tow, to prepare for my next 3 day work week that started the very next day. It was horrible. I felt so...unavailable. Physically. Emotionally. My poor husband. Sunday morning was a blur of Sunday School and an emergency trip to Target for formula (of which I had completely run out after the morning bottle). Then...work. For 3 more nights. Of horrible, stressful, taxing volumes of patients that we really didn't have the staff to adequately care for any of the nights. Frustrating on so many accounts, but then I digress.
So the first time I really took a breath of air was this afternoon when I woke up from a string of very tiring events. And try as I may, I just can't seem to reach deep enough to write about the good and the bad and the happy and the sad that has transpired since we embarked on all of it. I just can't. At least not today.
BUT...tonight I read a blog that articulates everything I feel about the Christmas chaos I eluded to before. Really, I would much rather you read it yourself here, because it is far better than anything you will continue to read down the page (so read both or choose her, I implore you). Many of the things she says have already been on my heart this year. One in particular, is our family's encounter with Santa. Jen Hatmaker says it well: "There is no fake benefactor this year my kids can petition to get more stuff. Because honestly? For a five-year-old, how can Jesus compete with Santa? Our children don't have spiritual perspective; when faced with the choice of allegiance, they have a baby in a manger, or they can get a jolly, twinkling, flying character who will bring them presents. This is going to be an easy choice for them."
When we had Josiah we began to have the hard discussion of intentionality at Christmas to ensure we raised children that know and love the reason for the season. It just seemed a little hard to do with Santa in the picture. So we did what seemed reasonable. We ignored him. That's right. For 4 years I have effectively ignored Santa, and Josiah just thought all of those images were tributes to his grandaddy (who is a professional Santa, by the way...ehhh...***Please let the record reflect my father-in-law does a wonderful job talking about the greatest Gift that was ever given while in his Santa role***). The only problem is, now Josiah is 4 and very perceptive and receptive of the world around him. Which means he, on his own merit, has gathered information on this Santa guy and has announced to us what he wants Santa to bring him. And he is so excited for Santa to come to our house and leave him lots of treats. And how many more days until Santa comes? Santa just got invited into our house, and it wasn't by either adult that lives here. Shame on me. Now we are scrambling, because it feels like Santa just caught us in our undies. I find myself lamenting, "How has this happened?" The bemoaning isn't how it has happened as much as, "Where do we go from here?" The main problem being, I don't want that kid. You know, the one that blurts out "Santa isn't real!" to all the naive kids who are waiting on his arrival. And newly 4, in case you did not know already, is not an age in which a child can effectively exhibit self-control with what information they share or keep to themselves.
So the team has huddled (that's Jonathan and me, you know), and we are seeking Heavenly wisdom, as we don't really have enough ourselves on this one. The one thing we have agreed upon is Santa (whether he was welcomed or not) must go. His principles don't match up to the theology we believe (Jesus even loves the kids on the naughty list). His presence is invasive on a real thing to anticipate (the birth of a Savior). He lures the hearts of our children into a want for more stuff. We just can't get excited about you, Santa. The thing we are having a difficult time navigating is how to explain Santa to Josiah in a way that he won't feel the urge to blurt out unwelcome truths to children he interacts with.
As we continue to strive for intentionality in our home this year, we have simplified our presents. Josiah and Evangeline will each receive two things from us. That's it, and we think that's enough. Two isn't a hard rule. Maybe one year it's one thing. Maybe one year it's three. The point is, we are trying to keep it simple. We are teaching Josiah that we give gifts to show our love and to remember the gift God gave us. Presents are nice, but they are only a small part of a much bigger Christmas. We are also trying when possible to give gifts that give sustainable income to people that need it. Artisans here and in other parts of the world. Some meaningful gifts we wanted to give just aren't made by hand. However, supporting fair trade and gifts that give back are priorities this year.
We are excited to usher Jesus' birth into our home and hearts with our children this year. This parenting thing is hard, and I hope the intentions of our hearts are matched with wisdom as to how to accomplish such things.
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