A mother's grief at Christmas

I didn't want to use the word grief in a post about Christmas. I really didn't.

But I went to a department store today. I wasn't shopping for Christmas stuff. A couple of my sons just needed some new pants, so I went in search. But I did look around a bit. At their Christmas decorations. And my daughter was with me.

What happened to me today is what happens to me every year. And it seems like every year it is harder for me to deal with. Because I walked with my daughter and I looked around. Just about every thing she passed was something she wanted to pick up and tell me that she wanted it. I know this is normal. And I am perfectly capable of saying no. I really am.

But it just gets to me. I always head into the Christmas season determined to stay out of it, above it. But every year I am sucked in. I want to buy things for my children. I want to buy so many things. Even when I'm not at the store, I can think of a dozen things each of my children would like to receive. And wouldn't it be so fun to see them unwrap those items and light up at the excitement of getting something so neat!? It is so magical to go to bed on Christmas eve and wake up to an explosion of colorful shiny gifts under the tree. I love that, and I want them to have it, bigger and better this year than every year before. That's before I even go to the store. Because one has to go to the store. And a dozen things I know they would like turns into everything I lay my eyes on seems like something I just need to get them.

I can't. Don't get me wrong. We are not struggling. We have money to buy Christmas presents and we have everything we need. We are blessed or lucky or however you want to look at it. And we're grateful. But I can't and won't and shouldn't buy my kids even close to all that they ask for at Christmas. Even if I had the money. I still wouldn't think it was right to give them all the STUFF that they want. I don't want stuff in my house, in my life, in my heart. And Christmas isn't about stuff. Toys and gadgets and stocking stuffers and so on. It's just not, and it is so important to me to teach my kids what Christmas really is about.

But here's the thing. I want to buy all that stuff for my kids. I want to. I walk around and see those cool things, oodles of them, and grieve that I can't give them to my kids. I use the word grieve because today at the department store when I had to keep telling myself and my daughter over and over again, no we can't buy that, I wanted to put my head down and cry.

I am being real here. Christmas for me, with all my prosperity and abundance, always come with grief at all that I can't give my kids. Things I think they would love, learn from, and enjoy. Things I would love to see them playing with or reading or playing together.

It is a necessary grief. I intentionally turn my back on it all. Every year. I put strict limits on how far I let it all into my life. But I can't avoid it, and every year it hurts. It wears on me.

I know Christmas is a season of love and joy, and I will revel in that. I thank God for Christmas and the way it fills me with music and light and hope, the way some of the year's wounds are healed this time of year. But the reality is that some of the wounds are ripped open afresh. So here and now I remind myself. I say yes to Christmas, no to too much stuff. Oh, that I will somehow have the strength and stamina keep saying yes and no to the right things.