Christmas Looks Different

 
Ever notice how things look different in childhood than they do as an adult?  Christmas is the perfect example of this.

As a child, Christmas was so magical.   It was anticipated with joy and excitement.  As an adult, it is anticipated with stress and anxiety, sad to say.

I was reading Heather's post over at Spiritbee about un-traditional Christmases, and agreeing with her that it's not what it looks like in the movies, (unless you're imagining a Chevy Chase movie. Then it might be realistic). 

In fact, just last week our pastor talked about what a false vision it is to think our lives will be like the Norman Rockwell pictures.   He reminded us that those are just paintings; an artist's vision of what life should be like - not the real thing.  That goes along with my "Walton's moments" in life, that never happen.

My Norman Rockwell Christmas would look like this:
A cozy house, full of family sitting around the dinner table, eating a delicious meal.  Then everyone moves to the tree to open beautifully wrapped presents.

Relatives would come from far away (everything in Texas is far away!) and we would all stay under the same roof, telling stories and drinking hot chocolate.  Of course, no one would bicker and everyone would know not to over-stay their welcome. 

The relatives would leave, the house would be clean and with the kids all tucked in their nice, warm beds, David and I would settle on the couch and watch an old movie (and I wouldn't fall asleep).

This would be the perfect Christmas to me.

However, reality is that this week, instead of making last minute preparations and figuring out where I will house everyone, we are taking a trip 6 hours away to see my dad who has been in the hospital for exactly 3 months today. 

We will visit him in his small hospital room, hand him a few gifts to open, and hope he has the strength to do so.   David will go to his office during the day, while the kids and I eat restaurant food and make multiple trips back and forth across town to visit my dad.    We will eat alone at night and sleep in a hotel room (which I hate) and get up the next day and do it all again.   Then, time will come when we have to say good-bye, and we will make the 6 hour trip back home, wondering if that will be the last Christmas we spend with my dad.    If so, that will mark the memories my boys will have of their 18th and 12th Christmases. 

This is real life.  


By the end of the week, as Christmas approaches, we will have attended a Christmas Eve service, hopefully visited a Live Nativity Scene, and had plenty of cups of hot cocoa.    The kids will anticipate Christmas morning and I'll cook French Toast.  

That afternoon, Ted will leave us and go spend the rest of the day with Sheri's family, Collin will play with all his new things, David and I will have coffee and talk about what a great day it was.

That night we'll sit on the couch and watch a movie with Collin and I'll fall asleep before both of them.

You know - that doesn't sound too far from ideal, does it?

Merry Christmas everyone!