Finding meaning and creation through cancer, adoption, and a series of seemingly unconnected strings of life events.

It happens every Christmas. I start early with planning, organizing, and decorating. We take family photos in November for Christmas cards and photo ornaments. I give thoughtful consideration to everyone’s lists, help them compile ideas, and coordinate with everyone to prevent duplication. I even compile photos from the year and compose a special album for each Grandparent.

I put on festive music and read Christmas books to my children. We attend advent services and light the wreath at night. I play piano and sing carols…

…then I lock myself in my bedroom and have myself a little breakdown.

Every. Damn. Year.

This year was going to be different. I had built myself up with therapy starting last January, exercised, and had a game plan for keeping my cool. I didn’t have the stressors of out-of-town guests and we had no major plans. We didn’t take family photos because of a bad fall my youngest had that left his face in stitches – and I had willingly let the idea of a perfect family Christmas card go.

We had a shorter than normal school break and my husband had more days off than normal. I was extra prepared with gifts – even spending long evenings watching cheesy Christmas movies and taking apart and re-sorting a giant $200 lego star wars ship gifted to us by a neighbor so my lego-obsessed 9-year-old could rebuild it. This year was going to be calm, relaxing, and magical.

And yet, by 1 p.m. on Christmas day, I was locked in my bedroom having myself another little breakdown.

I have my reasons. It didn’t help that I stayed up late for Christmas eve service,  neglected to put out any gifts until after the kids were in bed, and invited family over that night to play games. It didn’t help that I woke up at 5:30 a.m. to cook egg casserole, waffles, muffins, and fruit salad so I could film my children’s faces as they woke up to a room full of gifts.  

It didn’t help that one child was so mad I wouldn’t let him go to a friend’s house on Christmas morning that he screamed cuss words for 30 minutes and threw all his gifts at me. And it certainly didn’t help that after I calmed said child down, I walked into the dining room to find every newly organized bag of that 1,394 piece lego set dumped out all over the table.

To be perfectly honest, I was mad at myself more than my children. I’ve put so much time into therapy and learning to cope this year, I felt as though it was all for naught. Here I was again – in the same moment that propelled me to start therapy in the first place one year ago.

Since my initial declaration that Christmas was cancelled forever, I’ve had some time to breathe and reflect. The kids are back in school and a local boutique hotel had a winter special – which my husband graciously imparted to me as a chance to regroup and reflect. It’s amazing what a walk on the beach and a little solitude can do.

Noticing the bands of bunched up little broken shells on the beach made me think of all the tasks and emotions that have encompassed my every day since November. I’ve let the crunchy, hard to navigate chaos of life crowd my world so much that I couldn’t see how to walk around it. Watching the waves wash them all away and smooth out the remaining sand made me remember to let it all go. This new year is a chance to let all that past junk wash away, give myself a fresh start, and build on the healthy habits I put in place last year.

As for Christmas, I’m debating if I’ll be sending cards out at all next year. I may not even put up a tree unless my kids insist on actually helping. I’ve already discussed a secret Santa with the adults instead of individual gifts, and plan to do the same for the kids. Each kid will still get one big gift from Mama and Papa – but not six gifts –  and maybe a few stocking stuffers to boot. Menu items will include Pizza, store bought lasagna, and everybody’s favorite cereal for Christmas morning.

The new plan: Wash away the clutter of Christmas and focus on what matters…family, friends, and – most importantly – the reason for the season.

Until then, I will commit to the things that center me: writing, exercise, and prayer. I will join a bible study and attempt to build meaningful friendships with other women. I will get back to reading fiction and attempt to break my addiction to sugar (maybe). I will relish in solitude when I can find it. I will walk on the beach and try to remember to let the crunchy annoyances of life go.