Holiday-- ish

I have spent hundreds of hours decluttering my house this past year. I have trekked to the thrift store, brought massive bags of clothing to drop boxes, donated to cousins with children the same age as mine, guiltily threw away toys when my girls weren't looking. I have started a Mercari account, posted to Craigslist and Marketplace and made a whopping $18 consigning clothes.

But last night I had a moment when my 10 year old daughter sat in her bed, lined up all the stuffed animals and pillows she had, and the stuffed animal hammock above her head drooped from teddy bear weight. "Mom... I'd really like another Squishimal for Christmas too..." I looked at the three - er - four, that were already present in her bed.

"It's not going to happen babe." I replied to her. "Look around you... where would you even put it?"

Shame set in on me. Guilt. How could I tell her no to a Christmas gift? But her list expands daily. And her room is not getting any bigger. I don't really want to make more trips to the local thrift shop with toys that are unloved, unappreciated, unnoticed. And so here is the Christmas we're living. The fine balance of wants and needs, of nice surprises and excessive ridiculousness. We deal with it every year.

I grew up in the 90's and my family had just enough. We lived in a small 2 family house with a shared room for my sister and I. My parents worked hard. My mom did all she could to make Christmas special. And it always was. Memorable gifts were a new Huffy bike one year, and an American Girl Doll a few years before that. A lot of our gifts were handmade. Doll clothes from my mom and a doll bed made by my grandma stick out in my mind.

We hung the vintage C7 colored lights. Nothing was LED. There was no weird white/blue glow. We used tinsel on the tree, and took our time unwrapping ornaments from crumpled up paper towels and newspaper in a massive cardboard box, stored lovingly from the year before. Do you know the smell of ornaments packed in cardboard, coupled with warm lights on balsam branches? That is the smell of Christmas to me. Add to that smell some scotch tape and wrapping paper and I've come home.

So yesterday I decided to sit down and write out my yearly letter to Santa. It has been a tradition for me for 9 years and always helps me reflect on the year that has just passed... and the year coming up.

I asked for patience. The gift of counting to 10 before yelling or losing my sh*t. The patience to honor good timing. The patience to wait for responses and not jump to conclusions.

I asked for grace. To be able to move through uncertainty unscathed. To see the blessings in all of it. To trust the process. To actually enjoy the journey.

I asked for peace. This is a big one. I've been a meditator on and off for a decade now... and in the past 2 weeks, meditation has brought me back to life. I've been able to finally get down out of the tower in my head, and to find peace in the daily normal. If I can continue that way, there's nothing that can't happen.

We live in a world that at times, seems to be fueled on instant gratification. On number of followers and likes, Amazon Prime deliveries, Venmo and YouTube video tutorials. But this can only take us so far. I find comfort in unwrapping my ornaments slowly this year. On hanging C7 lights on our barn. Comfort watching the snow fall at the precise moment we go to cut down the Christmas tree. And on learning to bake gifts with fresh eggs from our hens instead of overnighting them from an Amazon Distribution Center. My children will be happy on Christmas. The things they asked for have been found, some locally, some ordered, some bought on Mercari (and helping another mom make a little extra $$). Take stock around you. Slow down. Sip your morning coffee from a Christmas mug, watch Clark Griswold overindulge, and curl up with a blanket knowing that peace is probably the most important gift you could request this year.