Christmas day. Quiet morning. The clicking of Bayli’s claws against the hard floor. The clearing of Madre’s throat. The sun shining through the back window. The curtains of the front one still closed. The occasional car passing by.
We slept in today. My mom and I. Bayli did, too. We’re the only ones in the house. I don’t know what my grandma and uncle are doing next door.
Today feels normal. Not spectacular, not extraordinary, not celebratory. Just Monday – except we’re not at work today. But maybe that’s okay, though, right? Maybe part of celebrating the birth of Jesus is recognizing that he existed on the same planet we do, that he participated in the mundane. He listened to the footsteps of animals and heard his mama clear her throat. Shoot, he probably cleared his throat, too.
I tend to have high expectations, especially when it comes to celebrations. I want the decorations to be grand and festive. I want the music to make people relax and have fun. I want the lighting to be just right. I want everyone to be just as excited as I am.
I tend to get let down. My decorative dreams are a bit grander than my decorative skills can handle. People have different tastes in music. The lights are either on or off, so they don’t dim to create the perfect soft light. People aren’t jittery and buzzing with excited energy.
And that’s okay. The Bible doesn’t say that Jesus’ favorite colors are red and green, and we should all decorate our homes, play in the snow, and throw on festive sweaters. Mary and Joseph weren’t playing Nat King Cole in the background while she was giving birth. I can’t say for sure, but I imagine that Jesus’ popsicle stick snowflake from pre-school wasn’t hanging from an evergreen in their living room each year on his birthday.
Celebration is good. Gathering is good. Bursting with excitement and love and joy is good. Having fun and laughing and giving gifts and ringing bells and enjoying Christmas music and drinking hot chocolate and hanging lights – all good things. Making a point to celebrate the birth of our Savior with people we love every year. It’s good.
So is the every day. The “mundane.” Celebrating the gift of life. Finding joy in the opportunities to work hard or eat a snack or take the trash out. Recognizing that all the good things listed above can occur outside the month of December. Resting in the reminder that the music and lights and decorations do not have to be perfect – or even present – for the celebration to happen. Celebrating the little things like the smell of coffee and the sounds of my mama makin’ breakfast. Celebrating her daily, quiet strength that often goes uncelebrated. Celebrating the slow breathing of a sleeping pup. Celebrating the ice-covered branches. Celebrating that coats exist.
Celebrating – not by throwing a party or hanging lights – but by having a grateful heart. By saying thank you. By remembering the goodness that is in each day. By praising Jesus for his grace and standing in awe that he lived this life perfectly. By making sure the celebration is not limited to a specific season. By decorating because it makes your heart smile, not because it’s a requirement to spread joy. Celebrating by inviting his love into our hearts and asking him to share it through us every day. In the midst of the mundane. And sometimes, celebrating by throwing a party.
