This is an essay she wrote a couple of years ago after participating in our ornament exchange. I love her honesty and it cracks me up to read an outside view of our family tradition. While Theresa may not think of herself as a crafter (something I dispute based on her ornament last year), she is an amazing runner, hiker and all around outdoor enthusiast.
As I enter this week before Christmas I vow to do as Theresa describes below. Enjoy my family; not compare myself to those around me; love the people in my life and truly enjoy this Christmas season.
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For someone like me, there’s also the issue of going up against the crafty Moms. You know who I’m talking about – the ones who go to the hobby store and they actually know where everything is. They own a hot glue gun, AND they can find it when they need it. They know the difference between the dozens of different kinds of paint. Their art supplies are stored in organized containers. Their kids could be snowed in for a whole week and not get bored. AND the week would be meticulously documented in an elaborate scrapbook.
Let’s just say that I am NOT one of those Moms. I can’t go into the craft store without a deer-in-the-headlights look. So for me, one of the most anxiety-provoking events of the year is a Christmas brunch where there is an exchange of handmade ornaments. A family that we are friends with gathers every Christmas morning and after the meal and the telling of the Christmas story from the Bible, the ornaments come out. All of the adults make about a dozen ornaments, and everyone goes home with a complete set.
This is actually a sweet and touching tradition, and I feel fortunate to be included. Each year, I enjoy putting these ornaments on my tree and remembering who made what. It’s just that some of these people make incredible ornaments out of everyday items, and I can never think of anything good to make.
The first year I attended was probably my best year. When my friends first invited me to their brunch, they forgot to tell me about the ornament exchange until a couple days before. What that meant was that there really was no pressure, and I happened to think of a way to make a really cute contribution out of wire, bells, and ribbon that I already had around the house. It still makes me smile to go to the host’s house around Christmas and see that year’s ornament hanging on the tree.
But as I watched the unveiling of the other ornaments that day, I realized I would have to do better when I had the luxury of more time to prepare. And by the way, it is not an exaggeration to call the event an “unveiling.” Everyone brings their ornaments in a closed box, and you don’t get to see them until they go around the room and explain the meaning of their ornament, how they made it, etc. Past years’ contributions have included a Christmas train made out of a roll of lifesavers, fluffy little sheep, ornaments made from cookie cutters and repurposed Christmas cards, and even a tiny mouse made out of nutshells sleeping in a bed with a wee little felt stocking cap on his wee little head. Really.
One year, I was delighted to find instructions online to make a very beautiful-looking star out of clay, jewelry pins, beads, and glitter. Off I went to the craft store, playing a movie in my head of my triumphant unveiling, with my children by my side and surrounded by a beaming and appreciative audience. So this is where it would have been useful to spend more time doing arts and crafts as a child. I spent an hour in the store, and found what I took to be reasonable facsimiles of all the components, though I couldn’t find EXACTLY what the instructions called for. At home, I gathered my children and all the raw materials, but unfortunately, nothing behaved as expected. The stars were falling apart and they looked more like spiders anyway. Beads were everywhere, and the children were growing exasperated with the whole thing. I had to walk away from the table to figure out what to do. Fortunately, my daughter thought of an alternative ornament we could make out of the existing materials, and the day was saved. At the unveiling, I decided to let her tell the ornament “story” because the offering was her original design.
Unfortunately, there is no way to censor a teenager in real time (without getting arrested), so my face became more and more red as she described my ornament debacle, including the part where, in her words, “Mom stormed away from the table.” I wanted to disappear on the spot.
Then there are all the things we sign up to do because they sound like a good idea at the time, but they don’t go exactly as planned. This year, I volunteered my family to light Advent candles at church, not really knowing what was involved. I didn’t sign up for the first Sunday in Advent, so at least I got to see how it was done a couple times before it was our turn. I observed with dismay that the candle lighting involved public speaking at the front of the church. Really, just reading from a short script, but still, it was way more than I had bargained for.
As the day drew near, I filled the kids in on this plan. My daughter was all for it, my 12-year-old son, not so much. I got more than my share of “next time ask me before you sign me up” and “why do I have to do this?” Until we walked up to the front of the church, I really wasn’t sure he would actually go with us.
Of course, all the other families who did this task managed to appear in color-coordinated outfits. I am sure I told my kids we would be wearing red, but they claim not to have gotten the memo. So there we were, me in red, my daughter in pink, and my son in blue. I told our pastor I was declaring victory just to be there, and she smiled.
We had been given a handheld microphone for the task, so this means there was no hiding my nervousness. The microphone was shaking, I could hardly hold the candle, and of course I lost my place in the reading. I had also forgotten to tell the children which candle to light first, so I had to swoop in on my son as he was about to light the wrong one.
All the way home, we laughed uproariously. The kids re-enacted my mix-up and my shaking hands, and I was hysterical. I told them the great thing about church is you can mess up, and yet you can still feel the love.
Later that day, as I worked on my best ornament ever – a very simple and rustic-looking cross made of twigs and wire with a heart charm – I reflected on the “Advent candle affair.” The part of it that stayed with me was the love – not the trauma of the public speaking or the shaking hands. Just the simple, quiet, beautiful love that is best found in the sanctuary of a church at Christmas time, and the joyful love of the teasing kids.
It may be true that there isn’t enough time to do all the things we think we need to, and we don’t have enough energy to do things the way we think we should. Fortunately though, if we’re willing to take the time to see it, there’s no shortage of love.
This is great! I love your family and this is a great reminder of the things that are important.
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