Earthmovers and Sandcastles

Not a lot of time tonight; I’m getting ready to head to a small gathering with my discussion group from MOPS. For some reason, I volunteered to bring an appetizer instead of wine or a dessert; I’m not an appetizer cook, but thankfully Eric was able to save my tail and whip up some of his steamed dumplings for me.

We had a really good speaker at MOPS this morning, discussing holiday traditions – how the original Christmas was about as simple as it could get, and how we’ve turned it into something too complicated, too chaotic, and way too money-based (apparently about $450 billion dollars in America alone, last year). It was thought-provoking, to say the least. We probably do far less in the way of certain traditions than many folks, due to geographical constraints; it’s easy to avoid running from one house to another on Christmas Eve and Day when your families are almost more than a full day’s drive away. We still spend too much, though. Some years have been better for us, when we’ve gone into it with a coherent plan to which we manage to keep fairly closely. This year hasn’t been that year. And we’re doing the travel thing, too, leaving on Christmas day – not what I would have chosen, but the best way to maximize our available time before Eric and the boys have to return to work and school.

We have only a few traditions, when it comes to it. We put up and decorate the tree fairly close to the day after Thanksgiving, and I like to do it as a family. We go to the Christmas party that Eric’s company holds for employees’ children. I have a wooden Advent “calendar” tree, on which we hang an ornament each day (Sam is very good about remembering to do this, even when I forget). Christmas morning is organized: we hand ’round the gifts in an orderly fashion, and then we take turns opening one gift, letting everybody fawn over it before moving on. Each of us gets a Christmassy sweater as one of our gifts, and (one of my family’s traditions when I was growing up that I’ve decided to keep) each stocking’s assortment of items includes a magazine or comic book. These are simple things, and while some new traditions may also stick (making recipes from Eric’s mom’s stockpile of holiday treats, for example), there’s nothing too fancy or distracting on the horizon.

And then there’s me, who last year went on a neighborhood run late in the morning, enjoying the sights and sounds of the holiday, and who very much plans to do that this year, next year, and every year to come. It’ll be my own tradition – my time to reflect, breathe, and feel the joy that the day is supposed to have. Yes, family; yes, Christ. But yes, too, to blood pumping fast in my veins, letting me feel breathlessly alive and ready for more. That’s my holiday. God bless us, every run.

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