I wrote this in 2011 and it seems no less appropriate now. If you're curious, you can click on this link to see the comments made to the original post. I present no universal solutions to the problems of Christmas stress, just a few thoughts about what helped and hindered us, particularly when our children were young.
A Facebook discussion set me to pondering what I have learned through the years about necessary and unnecessary stress at Christmastime. Yes, I think there is such a thing as necessary stress. The discussion was prompted by this quotation from Ann Voskamp: Whenever Christmas begins to burden, it’s a sign that I’ve taken on something of the world and not of Christ. Any weight in Christmas has to be of this world.
I appreciate the point, but I beg to differ, slightly.
The Christmas season, like all other seasons, has its own burdens and blessings. The work that goes into it, like the work that goes into life, can be delightful and can be stressful. I don't think it's a sign that we're doing something not of Christ just because it's stressful or burdensome. Good things take work. Labor, as in the birth of a baby. The more effortless a work of art looks, and the more joy it brings to others (inspiring musical performance; smoothly-running household; creative, confident, well-behaved children), the more labor you can assume went into it. Yet there's no denying that we can get so caught up in the effort that we miss the point, be it Christmas, or a wedding, or life itself.
Here are some things we've done, or not done, over the years, that made a difference to our Christmas stress level. Your mileage may vary.
Media exposure. One of the best decisions we ever made was to severely limit the presence of television in our home. This included—for good reason—videos and public television, but it was the lack of commercial TV that made the greatest difference at Christmastime. Our children didn't beg for toys they didn't know existed and certainly didn't know they "needed." That wasn't our motivation for banishing children's television programs from our lives, but it was an especially helpful benefit.
Santa Claus. I grew up with the excitement of the jolly ol' guy, but we decided to tell our children from the beginning that honoring the real St. Nicholas had evolved into a fun, but fictional, Christmas story. I won't say that Santa never delivered gifts to our house—there were grandparents' wishes to consider—but we never, ever, stood in a long line, or paid ridiculous prices, or fought over the last Tickle Me Elmo just because our children had asked Santa, and Santa was expected to deliver. (That line never worked in my childhood, but somehow expectations have grown over the years.)
Loss of anticipation. Despite the absence of a too-generous Santa, our children did not lack for presents and other reasons for looking forward to Christmas. But they never experienced the long period of anticipation I remember. In my childhood, the weeks between Thanksgiving and Chistmas j-u-s-t d-r-a-g-g-e-d. Life is busier now, and children feel time flying in a way that was once only an adult curse. Holiday stress has no age limits. [Note from 2019: If you read the comments in the original post, you'll see that our children disagree—they still thought time dragged.]
Christmas parties. Every organization or activity we or our children were involved in felt it necessary to have a Christmas party, complete with gift exchange, during the busiest and most expensive season of the year. I don't know why: the secular organizations had no need to celebrate Christmas, and the churches should have realized that Advent / Christmas Eve / Christmas / Epiphany worship services are a much better excuse for a celebration than "we have to have parties because everyone else does." I realize that some people are energized by such events, but I could have drastically reduced my stress level by declining at least half of the Christmas events we were invited to. I would much, much rather have baked and decorated cookies at home than attended parties, yet more often than not the latter squeezed out the better.
Christmas traditions. Frankly, I don't have any answers here. I still grieve over not having established our own family's holiday traditions, and for letting some treasures from my past fall by the wayside. For years we celebrated Thanksgiving with my in-laws; after that, we joined my family's gathering at my sister's house. Our children have wonderful memories of time spent with our extended families, which is of infinite value ... but no memories of Thanksgiving at home. Christmastime was usually spent at our house, but always with company, usually my in-laws. This was a great treasure, and I wouldn't trade it. But it was also stressful, as we accommodated their desires (e.g. Santa Claus), and in the time crunch I dropped some of my own cherished Christmas traditions. Why stress ourselves with making and decorating cookies (precious memories from my childhood) when we knew Grandma would bring piles of wonderful food with her? This was one of the "if only I were more organized" stresses: couldn't I have fit it all in, somehow? Without a doubt, family is far more important (and fun) than a particular cookie tradition. But there's still a loss, and a stress to deal with. [Note from 2019: Here's grace for you: Our children apparently picked up and passed on a number of family traditions, including those from my own childhood, despite my feelings that I mangled that rather badly.]
We've been part of our church's Christmas services for nearly as long as our kids have been alive, in some combination of childen's choir, adult choir, Christmas musicals, Scripture reading, and/or setup and takedown. Overall this is a great thing, and I find it hard to "do congregation," especially in churches where congregations don't do all that much. Active involvement is both educational and inspirational. But it also has its losses and stresses, from missing the neighborhood Santa drive-by (small loss, I think, but the kids loved getting the candy he tosses); to staying up into the wee hours of Christmas morning finishing tasks, having returned from church well after midnight; to burdening our guests with the choice of (1) be at church with us for a long time, sometimes attending multiple services, (2) providing their own transportation (difficult when the church was a complicated 40-minute drive from home), or (3) staying home without us, whom they had come long distances to be with. On the plus side, what with the exhuastion and staying up late, we rarely had to deal with early-rising children on Christmas morn. [Note from 2019: In 2011 we were new at a church that is only an eight-minute drive away from home. Eight years later, I can heartily recommend that situation. What a difference it makes in the stress levels.]
Gift giving. This deserves a post to itself, but I'll try to keep it short. A gift, whether inexpensive or costly, can be a precious expression of love, or at least appreciation. But there's no question gift giving can be a problem, even without Santa in the picture.
- For a long time I was embarrased about the number of gifts under our tree, but I've gotten over that. Even though we had only two children, we always had visitors for Christmas to swell the present pile, and we have many generous relatives. We also made a point of wrapping as gifts things most families probably just buy as a matter of course, such as clothing (yes, even underwear), educational materials, and other necessities of life, just because it's so much fun to watch people unwrap presents—and they were never ungrateful, not even for the underwear. Most of the generous relatives were good about sending useful presents, too.
- The number of presents wasn't the only reason it took us all morning and most of the afternoon to open our gifts. It was important to us to treasure each gift (even the underwear), so we opened gifts slowly, and two gifts were never opened at the same time, no matter how many people were in the room. All attention was focused on one person, one gift. I can't say strongly enough how wonderful this custom was for us. Every gift was treasured, every giver thanked in person (or the gift carefully noted down if the giver was not present). The ungrateful do not deserve gifts. Thankfully, we never had to enforce this.
- Unfortunately, we were pretty bad about thank-you notes. We almost always got them out, but much later than we should have. I don't know why it was so difficult. The children were truly thankful, but getting them (or, to be honest, myself) to put pen to paper was a battle. But, really, how hard can it be? If I were doing it over, I'd include under the tree a special box of notecards for each child, and make a point of sitting down at the beginning of each subsequent day and writing one thank-you note. Even with our generous family, they'd have been finished before Epiphany. Let me add that, in these days of multiple means of communication, I wouldn't insist on hand-written, need-a-stamp notes, although those are always lovely to get. But whether expressed through letter, e-mail, phone, Skype, SMS, IM, or Facebook, what the giver wants to know is: Did the gift arrive? Was it broken or defective in any way? What do you like about it? What don't you like about it? Here is a great opportunity for a lesson in basic courtesy: how to thank someone for his thoughtfulness and generosity while letting him know that at age 12 you really don't want any more pink elephant slippers. Trust me, the giver has better things to do with his money than to give you presents you don't want. And please, mention gifts individually. "Thank you for the presents" meets the bare minimum requirements, but does not satisfy a loving and generous heart.
- If I were doing it again, I'd fret less about some of the gifts our children received that didn't fit well with our priorities and values. There was never anything truly awful—though in my opinion, a Barbie doll comes close—but I don't think they were scarred for life by being given stick-on plastic earrings and play nail polish. Relatives are good for expanding one's horizons.
- Charity gift catalogues (e.g. World Vision, Compassion, Heifer Project) are a gimmick, I know, but nonetheless a very effective and educational way to involve children in contributing to those in need. And I think the donation of a goat, or a bicycle, or an anti-malaria bed net would be just perfect for those otherwise meaningless Christmas party gift exchanges. I wouldn't go as far as this family (the same Ann Voskamp mentioned above) and have no gifts at all under the tree: receiving gifts is not only a joy for children but also a lesson in thankfulness. And anyway, what would we do without underwear? But the basic concept is worth working into our gift-giving, one way or another. Buy a few extra items to keep on hand during the year, too. They won't spoil (you get a card; the gift has already been given) and you'll have an easy present to pull out when needed.
- When I read, years ago, about a woman who had all her Christmas shopping done before Thanksgiving, I knew I could never be so efficient. Deadlines inspire me, but they must be real deadlines: I'm no good at mentally determining to be done by a certain time if my gut knows I really have another two weeks. But for the past several years, Thanksgiving has been a real deadline, because that's when our family gets together, and we all like to save on postage. True, it's a soft deadline—I can and do still shop in December—but it's solid enough to spur me into action a month early. It's an awesome feeling to go into December (and Advent) with much of the labor completed!
- What I really want to do is gather Christmas gifts slowly, all year 'round. This is harder to do for children of a certain age, whose interest in a particular item may not be sustained from February to December, or for things that people might buy for themeselves in the interim. But that still leaves a number of possibilities, from consumables (food, sandpaper, crayons) to items you know someone would love but would not treat himself to.
- We need to get over our embarrassment about homemade gifts. Few things say love like something that takes time and effort rather than a credit card. Homemade jam and hand-knit sweaters were always big hits at our house. Just don't take anything homemade to a Christmas party gift exchange, where for reasons I still don't understand, mockery is frequently mistaken for humor.
What has helped—or hindered—your celebration of Christmas?
A phrase from George McDonald sums up how I'd like to approach this season of blessing and stressing. Labor without perturbation, readiness without hurry, no haste and no hesitation. For the visual thinkers and chart-minded among us, I've created a graph that I find helpful in determining whether or not a particular Christmas activity is worthwhile for me.
The y-axis, Duty, represents the importance of a project or activity, whether in my own mind or imposed by others; the x-axis, Delight, is a measure of the joy received as a result of my participation. There is nothing mathematical about the placement of the adjectives within a quadrant; they are merely suggestive.
A given type of event may fit into any of the four quadrants. For example, the Christmas party.
The first quadrant is all positive; this is where you want to be. For me, it would be a small gathering of good friends, where we take our voices and various instruments on a carolling tour of the neighborhood, preferably on a still, quiet night with a few snowflakes falling. Then we'd repatriate and warm up by a cheerful fire with cups of steaming cocoa and an assortment of snacks and cookies. (Yes, I'm aware that I live in Florida.)
Quadrant Two might be your office Christmas party, which you dread, but you know that if you don't show up—with a smile and a gag gift—your boss will consign you to the "not a team player" abyss. Grit your teeth, take a good attitude with you, and please try to stay out of trouble.
The third quadrant is bad all around: no fun and no good reason to be there. Perhaps it's your church's production of The Young Messiah, served with Crystal Light lemonade and peanut butter cookies, which you know will distress your ears, your brain, your stomach, and your musical sensibilities. You like to support church activities, but they're expecting an enthusiastic crowd of three hundred and you will not be missed. Cross this one off your list with gratitude and a sigh of relief.
Quadrant Four is where you'll find the chocolate cake of life: Not good for you, but not harmful in limited quantities. Perhaps your neighbors are staging a back-to-back showing of your favorite Christmas television specials. No one will be offended if you stay home, and you don't anticipate any benefit, not even a chance for conversation—no one but you appreciates pausing a show to discuss the philosophical implications of the Ghost of Christmas Present, or the symbolic significance of the Island of Misfit Toys—but you would love to see A Charlie Brown Christmas again. The greatest danger with activities from this quadrant is that it is too easy to let them accumulate until they've multiplied stress by crowding out Quadrants One and Two.
I see the Ann Voskamp quotation as unrealistically one-dimensional: Anything that is not in Quadrant One must be in Quadrant Three. I suggest that the Christmas season, like life, cannot be reduced so neatly—not even to my two-dimensional analysis. But in any case, a reasoned consideration of what contributes to a joyful celebration and what detracts should lead us in the direction of a
Merry Christmas!
Which is an appropriate activity for Advent.
