Last year before Christmas, the time came for my family to pick out a tree. It was my daughter’s first Christmas, and I was giddily excited to show her the magic of the holidays, even though she was only eight months old and could barely crawl. As we ventured out to find “the perfect Christmas tree”, visions of a gracefully symmetrical, tall, full-bodied pine filled my head. However, once we started searching, my husband’s practicality brought my visions to a halt: our living room was too small for the tree of my dreams, we just didn’t have the space. Nonetheless, my desire to create the perfect first Christmas for my daughter drowned out these warnings. My stubbornness persisted and the perfect pine was packed atop the car and brought home. To my dismay, my husband was right, and the tree was too tall and had to be trimmed down to fit inside the house. Despite the slight pruning, the tree was certainly a beauty, exactly what I imagined in my Christmas dreams. However, though I didn’t want to admit it at the time, it was too big for our living space, especially with our increasingly active little one.
Reflecting on this story a year later, I can now clearly see how my perfectionistic mindset, while well-intended, actually hindered our celebration of the season. The tree certainly didn’t ruin our Christmas, but it did take up too much space. And this is exactly what perfectionism does: it crowds our minds and hearts with unimportant details and unrealistic ideals that thwart the humble beauty that Christmas illuminates. It takes something inherently good and dismantles all its charms in comparison to the elusive “better.”
The Hallmark movie culture that surrounds the Christmas season has primed us to measure our Christmas merriment by the number of decorations, baked goods and Christmas carols that we sing. While I enjoy a good old predictable Hallmark love story, I find it important to remind myself that Christmas is not a measurement of things or activities. It is a season born from a celebration of selflessness, and our experience of it will change each year as we enter it from different seasons of our own lives. Particularly as mothers, there is added pressure to give the best to our kids and we tend to overwhelm ourselves with the burden of creating the perfect holiday experience. Yet when we take a step back and reflect on the very first Christmas celebration, how astonishing to find a scene so vastly different from the glamorous Hallmark Christmases we know today.
The first Christmas scene displays no bright colored ribbons or aesthetic décor, yet it does unveil a mystery which brings us newfound wonder every December: the pure, simple presence of a family, basking in the glorious radiance of new life and redeeming love. They have no comforts aside from the companionship they share and the hope they hold, there is nothing glamorous or dazzling about it, yet this scene has been recreated a million times over in every artform imaginable. It isn’t the shiny decorations, the shopping sprees, or perfect tree that creates the magic of Christmas, but the presence we give to those closest to us. So whether its holding off on the decorating to meet the needs of little ones, sending a thoughtful note to an old friend, or creating more space for rest and reflection, the holiday season is one for being and not doing. Don’t let the urge to hustle and bustle (while a good thing at the proper time), overcome the meaning hidden within that simple manger scene.
So to all my fellow mothers out there desperately scrolling Pinterest to create their perfect holiday aesthetic or anxiously scouring Amazon for that one gift which will make your child’s Christmas complete, this is your invitation to stop, breathe and allow some space for imperfection. If your mind feels like a treadmill of to-do lists and you just can’t seem to get it all done, take a moment to notice the beauties of the season: the homely Christmas tree shining through a window, the rosy cheeks of your children after a romp in the snow, the tune of your favorite Christmas carol. It is the simple details of our lives that draw us together in our broken humanity and the secret of that humble manger scene is that we are loved despite our flaws. By embracing our poverty, we are celebrating Christmas as it was so long ago, in the cold of a stable made warm by the flame of forgiving love.
