Advent

As a child, my mom would buy me and my brothers chocolate Advent calendars in anticipation of Christmas. Unfortunately, the tradition quickly died after one too many years of us eating all the chocolates far in advance of Christmas day. Stupid temptation.

But I’ve never forgotten that feeling of anticipation every time I opened the next window on the calendar, albeit empty. With Mikey now 4 years old, I decided this year would be a great time to start an Advent calendar tradition.

Here is my new Advent Calendar from Target. Although I wanted something more handmade, I’ve come to appreciate how sturdy it is. I realize now with how eager Mikey is to check the calendar that something made of paper would have never lasted.

I don’t want the Advent Calendar to turn into 24 more days of presents, so I really tried to put some thought into gifts with some sort of meaning. My sister in law, Stephanie, is very good at creating tradition in the home–especially around holidays. I decided to take a few of her traditions and incorporate them into the calendar. So, on the first day, December 1st, the boys received matching winter pajamas, something they would have received anyway. Obviously I couldn’t fit the pajamas in the calendar, so I just wrote a little note inside that read,

Dear Mikey and Nico,

You both warm our hearts so much. We hope these new pjs warm your nights just as much.

Love,
Mama & Daddy

The pjs were a hit with Mikey. The note? He wasn’t even paying attention to me while I read it to him and Nico. Sigh.

The next day we decided having them help us put up the tree would be a fun way to celebrate Advent.

Since I couldn’t stuff a fake tree in there, I put it some peanut butter cups and a little note detailing the night’s activities. We still aren’t done decorating, but it was the best time I’ve had putting up a tree.

The boys had a great time, too, but I think they liked the chocolate-as-breakfast concept even better.

The next day we did Christmas books I found in the dollar section at Target, and today we did chocolate again.

We lit the Advent Wreath last night. Advent actually started on Sunday (my birthday!), but since it was still November and Mikey was having trouble understanding why anything Christmas related would occur outside December, I decided to stick with a contemporary schedule. The lighting of the wreath and the scriptures to read are all very simple thanks to me stumbling onto the book, Celebrating Christmas: And the Beautiful Traditions of Advent. I like the book so much I actually added it to my bookstore under the holiday category.

The book supports a nonlitigurical schedule for Advent, but you can always take the schedule and apply it to the four Sundays before Christmas. Each day has some history on Christmas and Advent, a very brief prayer, and a Christmas themed story by Tolstoy, Hans Christian Anderson, and Pearl S. Buck, to name a few. I read the history lesson and prayer (each about a half page) while Mikey figeted in anticipation of lighting the wreath, Nico gorged himeself on rice, and the Mister, um, sat there. Next week I’m going to read aloud from a book on martyrs.

Oh, Christmas Tree

Our Christmas tree isn’t the fanciest I have ever seen. I have seen trees that spin, play songs, and hang upside down. Our tree is crooked. It is too narrow. The boughs are sparse and cheaply made.

Our Christmas tree isn’t the prettiest I have ever seen. I have seen trees festooned with glorious, sparkling ornaments and lights that twinkle so perfectly that it all but takes your breath away. Our tree is quite empty. There are pockets of space in the front and the back has few, if any, ornaments.

Our Christmas tree isn’t the tallest I have ever seen. I have seen trees so tall they seem a never-ending fountain of light, percolating dreams and wishes. Our tree is short. At just under 6 feet, I can just stretch high enough to put on the star. The star is too heavy for our cheap, little tree so it frequently topples over and I use physics to keep from toppling to the ground.

No, our tree isn’t the fanciest, or prettiest, or tallest I have ever seen. Our tree is crooked, narrow, cheap, bare, and short. Our tree is a really bad blind date.

Until you get to know him.

You see, something happens to our tree after the first couple of ornaments. He begins to speak and suddenly takes on a beautiful glow. He grabs me and tells me a story and after it is over, I can’t help but love him. I’m a sucker for a good tale, and he gets me every year.

Our tree recounts the history of two people who, while dating, loved to visit museums. Their first date, in fact, was at LACMA.

She is creative, flighty, and thinks elephants are brilliant.

He is quiet, analytical, and a man of science.

She loves books.

He loves to play golf.

They live in California.

A couple of years go by, and they decide to get married.

They celebrate their first Christmas.

She is getting ready for law school and he is straightening his tie for work when the first plane crashes into the World Trade Center.

They have one son.

Then, another.

Here the story stops, because that’s as far as they’ve gone. Don’t you want to hear more? I do.

Each delicate, glass ornament captures a moment in our life. Not every moment is represented in our little tree but, hey, these ornaments don’t come cheap. We have time to add them as we can, so the Mr. reminds me.

It’s funny. Of all the ornaments we own, only one did I purchase on a whim. Every other ornament, including those we received as gifts, have a special memory behind it. As Mikey handed me the ornaments, this “no memory” ornament slipped from his fingers and fell to the ground with a crash. The irony did not escape me. Or, at least it didn’t escape me an hour later after I had cooled down. It’s as if the little ornament couldn’t handle the guilt of it’s own insincerity.

Our tree isn’t perfect and doesn’t look exactly how I wish it would, but that’s ok. I imagine one day it will be fancy, pretty, tall and perfect. When that happens we’ll know we lived a long and full life and our ornaments will soon find new homes sprinkled among the crooked, narrow, cheap, bare, and short trees of our children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren.

Provided we don’t drop any more.