Personal Reflections, Holiday Guide
As the holidays approached, I turned again to the three-step process for moving faith forward and created a Holiday Guide for Moving Faith Forward. To offer a glimpse into what this process looks like for me, I’ve written a short one below that was helpful for me as I prepare for the holidays.
Step One: One belief I no longer hold in the same way: Christmas is most meaningful to me when it reminds me of happy Christmases from childhood.
Background: While I’ve had my share of heartbreak, my holiday memories from childhood and young adulthood hold many positive feelings. I remember feeling secure and loved. Standing where I am now, I can be tempted to lean into the idealized version of holidays that Brené Brown speaks about in her definition of nostalgia. She quotes Stephanie Coontz with the following words:
“There’s nothing wrong with celebrating the good things in our past. But memories, like witnesses, do not always tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth. We need to cross-examine them, recognizing and accepting the inconsistencies and gaps in those that make us proud and happy as well as those that cause us pain.”
As I approach the holidays as an adult, the nostalgia of childhood and young adulthood is less about what actually happened and more about idealizing the past where I could claim innocence or ignorance and live without adult responsibilities. I remember the surprise of gifts on Christmas morning and begrudge all the labor of preparing that same Christmas surprise for my kids. I remember when the political and cultural landscape didn’t feel as contentious and apocalyptic. Essentially, my memories hold this desire to crawl back to a stable, safe, consistent place where parents take care of making it all happen.
There are traditions that I love to re-enact, but I have to let go of the hope that re-enacting traditions will lead me to feel the same way that I once did. Even more importantly, I realize that my memory of the feeling is likely different from how I actually felt. I know there were complicated feelings as a child and young adult at holiday time. Misremembering my past doesn’t serve me well in the present.
Besides, faith as a child (seeing the mystery in the world around me, leaning wholly upon others, and living in my childhood world) had a time and place, but it doesn’t wield the same power now. The God of childhood did feel grander and more magical, but that is because I looked at the world from naive and innocent eyes. The God of adulthood walks alongside me as I face the realities of the day, which means I have to wrestle with all the ways life doesn’t go the way we want. God of today is more than capable of being God for me… if I can let go of pining after the God of childhood.
Step Two: A belief that has carried me through: Connecting with loved ones with an open heart makes a meaningful Christmas possible.
Background: Lately, I’ve been drawn more and more to books about relational health. I’ve realized that connecting with people is the most surefire way for me to feel more alive, at peace, and hopeful for the future. I can let go of the idealized version of childhood (focused primarily on what I get from people) and remember that what has always lasted is the love that I share with people during the holidays. The heart of those childhood and young adulthood memories is that I felt connected with the people around me, likely because I had fewer responsibilities or expectations to meet. I could be present with others in ways we struggle with as adults.
The holidays are when so many of us identify with Martha and begrudge Mary, sitting at Jesus’ feet before a roaring fire with hot cocoa. But even that story misrepresents the gospel message because it assumes we must choose between preparation and presence, labor and loving connection. I don’t have to see adult holiday responsibilities as obstacles that prevent relationships. Still, I have to set priorities (relationships more than responsibilities) to keep my eye on the ball during a busy season.
Coming in the flesh of Jesus, God disrupts the plan and emerges in ways that no one expects. Nostalgia prevented people from opening their hearts to the new ways God interacted with humanity through Jesus. Living with an open heart to my loved ones allows me to see how God is still being born in unexpected ways.
Step Three: A tangible way I’m moving forward: I’m making some adjustments to my holiday traditions this holiday season to allow for a more relaxed time on December nights.
Background: Now that I’ve named to myself that re-enacting my childhood and young adulthood Christmases is an unproductive attempt at nostalgia that often leaves me disappointed or resentful, and what matters most to me is connecting with loved ones with an open heart, I can see that I’ve got to streamline some of my holiday labor so that I’m not busy spinning up magic that leaves me disconnected from my beliefs. I’m wondering about the rituals that we’ve always done that actually leave us feeling grumpy and disconnected (for us, it’s getting our tree: I always assume it will be a beautiful memory and find each year that it never lives up to the vision in my mind) and thinking about what an “easy button” would look like so that I can get to the couch at night for a bit of time with the kids before bedtime. Slowing down some of the pieces will not just be so that I have more time for online shopping; the intention is to align my actions with my core belief (connections are where God meets us most).
