As a mother, I often feel like I am on the front lines of culture wars. This year I didn’t go Black Friday shopping. But two days later, I was forced to brave Walmart for milk (no blizzard pending).
The scene was so quiet, so serene, and the Christmas aisle was like my own pine-scented paradise. Except I was all alone. There was no warmth.
The whole endeavor to find an advent calendar was fruitless. In fact, I found nothing among the Christmas items but gift-related products. Wrapping paper, bows, gift tags, and tape.
Isn’t Christmas about spending time together?
NaNoWriMo is now over (I didn’t quite reach my daily writing goal), and the Christmas season is upon us.
If I’m honest, I need rest. My family needs me to rest. And the blog – even if cathartic – is stressful to maintain.
During the final days of the season, I want to offer my family a mother and wife who is present by deliberately reconnecting with the world around me and largely disconnecting from the realm at my fingertips. Truly, I’m not sure there is any other way to savor these fleeting moments.
My son, now three, is more aware of Christmas than ever before. And I hope to look back on these memories with him and see a loving and less-distracted mother.
Regardless of what I encounter in the aisles, I know that Christmas begins in the heart.
This year, I want to point my children to Christ by giving them a mother who knew how to let go – to pray more, to read more, to listen more.
May you be blessed this Christmas.
One Year Ago: A Sticky Catharsis