The SPIRIT of Christmas

Like a lot of families this year, our Christmas was different. I know many families that had empty seats and placesettings at their holiday tables. For only the second time in 22 years of marriage, we didn't go to Arkansas for Christmas.

I won't get into the circumstances, but it was a necessary decision this year for Billy and I to stay home.

Now, this initially caused me some stress. I am a traditionalist and I don't take change well. I've, of course, had to accept changes over the years. Family members pass on or get married and have families of their own and new traditions have to evolve.

I in no way want this to become a new tradition. I want this to merely be a blip on the radar of life. Much like the old way we used to track Santa Claus. I can remember the weathermen on the local news stations with their large circular radar screens - always greenish-gray, pre-Doppler - and a little red dot would flash across the screen. Tracking Santa's flight path. It was the indicator that all good boys and girls needed to hurry off to bed. Santa was close.

To my mother's great credit, she suggested that we meet in Lake Village for lunch. On Friday. Our office was closed that day and it was the perfect opportunity to get together without disrupting anyone else's plans and schedules.

And so we did. We each drove two and half hours for a lunch that lasted less than an hour. We ate at Rhoda's. If it hadn't been recommended by the Information Center we would have driven right past it, if we'd even found ourselves in that part of town. Slightly off the main road and the building looked as if would fall in at any moment. But the food was good, Southern Living magazine and newspaper reviews lining the walls, and there was a steady stream of customers picking up their lunches while we were there. And it was a good thing they were all to go orders. Rhoda's only has about six tables and all but one were taken.

I've discovered that I like long trips in the car with Billy. Kind of like our eleven hour drive to eastern Tennessee. We can talk, or not, without having to pass out puppy treats, let someone out, let someone in, listen for the washing machine to get off-kilter, try to quiet the herd when the mailman comes up on the porch, and so forth. Just the two of us, alone with our thoughts, able to converse in peace.

Meeting Mom only solved part of the problem. In case you.ve missed it, I love my nephews and niece more than words can say and I was worried about missing them. They are growing up so fast that I hate to lose any opportunity to see them. I know, I saw Hayden this summer and Brett will be here in February, but still, it was Christmas. So, we employed technology and Skyped.

Not sure if that is the correct verb or not, but Skype we did. And it was fun! Especially after we figured out that the reason they couldn't hear me was because the speaker volume on their side was turned down! But I could see them. They all looked good. And we talked. And laughed. And were together.

And really, isn't that what Christmas is about?

It isn't about the presents - though there were those as well. Mom served as courier between Andrea and I. And it wasn't about doing what we've always done. There was a spirit of cooperation with my family that made it all work out. And that was important.

Billy and I had been discussing for a while what we were going to do. We were unable to stay with his mom as we always have. It was really too late to find a house sitter that we could have confidence in. There isn't a hotel on Earth that will have 7 dogs in the room. Mom's house isn't equipped for a herd of our size either. And renting an RV wasn't going to work. At least not this year, but maybe next. I didn't want to go alone and I didn't want to leave him. I will never forget the moment when it was "decided". We were shopping in Wal-Mart and I just off-handedly remarked that we needed to decide what we were going to have for our Christmas lunch. I'd never fixed one before so we'd never thought about it. He turned and looked at me, somewhat puzzled. And asked, "you mean you're staying here?" "Of course, I'm not leaving you on Christmas." Right there, in front of everyone, he threw his arms around me, planted a big kiss on me and said, "thank you for understanding! I thought I was going to have a hard time with this".

Compromise. Understanding. Willingness. Far greater gifts than another sweater or bottle of perfume or anything else. (Not that we don't love the gifts we received, we do!)

Aren't those also some of the gifts of the first Christmas? Mary's willingness to give in to God's plan for her. Joseph's understanding that he had a strange mission that he would have to accept as well, far outside the norm for his day. The compromise of staying in a barn when there was no room in the inn for a very pregnant woman who would ultimately give the world it's greatest gift.

It's easy to get caught up in the madness of the holidays. We allow ourselves to get stressed to find the perfect gift. To visit everyone. To eat at every stop. To try and please everyone else. We usually end up feeling tired and cranky instead of blessed. At least I do. Maybe I shouldn't speak for everyone.

So, while our little Christmas was far from our "norm", it was good. So much so in fact that on Monday when Billy was trying to find a project to work on I asked why we couldn't just spend time together. He reminded me we'd been doing that for three days already!

My hope is that next year will be back to what we're used to, for a lot of reasons. The schedules and driving and all the rest. But I hope we don't lose the gifts of this year. The real spirit of Christmas. That it doesn't matter where our bodies are so much as what is in our hearts.