So here I sit, presents NOT wrapped, blog NOT done and a merry MESS on every surface. The snowman muffin papers are still empty, waiting for me to get baking. I’m printing out online gift certificates for one of our kids who ended up shortchanged compared to the siblings {long story, don’t ask}. It is 10:30PM and Santa comes to our house bright and early tomorrow morning. Santa is not even ready yet (er, ah…so he tells me). We have company coming tomorrow afternoon, and I haven’t vacuumed in a week. At least a week.
Am I a complete holiday mom fail?
Shouldn’t everything be PERFECT by now? Sigh.
I think the perfection and success of this week depends on what my measuring stick is. Christmas week IS perfect — if I stop looking at it through my MUST MAKE THIS THE PERFECT HOLIDAY HOME lens. It is the perfect holiday because of something that happened 2000 years ago, not because of my amazing ability to be supermom.
2,000 years ago, a perfect miracle was born in a humble stable on a cold dark night. Contrary to what we might expect, the miracle didn’t happen in a fancy palace, it didn’t come to a perfectly set up, warm and cozy home or even an acceptable Holiday Inn for that matter. It was a very imperfect Christmas setting. Yet, it was a miracle that changed the world, none the less.
Yes, it might seem I am a total holiday mom fail, but I am refusing to let myself measure Christmas that way. About this time of the season, I grow very weary of houses and fancy decor, talk of table settings and gift ideas, and even all the amazing home projects. I just want to set it all aside and quietly focus on what Mary was thinking as she held that miracle 2,000 years ago.
Come visit me at (in)courage to read my December article and share what YOU are quietly treasuring this Christmas!
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