Raising Red Letter Kids

I haven’t sent out Christmas cards for three years. This might not be earth shattering news to most of you, but for me its been huge break with a very important family tradition. For me Christmas cards have always been my only attempt at keeping in touch with family and far away friends, as well as my only attempt at documenting my family’s life and important memories. I don’t scrapbook, but I do manage to send Christmas cards, even if it doesn’t happen until well after Groundhog’s Day some years. The pictures I send out are my only organized and accessible visual reminder of how the kids have grown from year to year. They are never Pinterest worthy pictures, and my husband and I are often wearing our same Columbia fleecies in the picture (those things never wear out). The photos are typically more about the scenery than us, and taken by some random tourist at some outdoor adventure we went on as a family that year, but they bring back irreplaceable memories, more precious than any photoshopped, professionally posed portrait could.

I enjoy receiving Christmas cards as much as sending them. In fact, I have to admit I have been known to rush the mailman during the advent season, so we have had to establish a family rule about not opening the cards until the whole family is all together in the evenings. We post every picture received up in our kitchen and enjoy seeing our friends and family well until Memorial Day and beyond. Even in the age of Facebook there is something special about receiving actual personalized Christmas cards. And when I say cards, I don’t really mean just cards. There is nothing more disappointing than opening a card with no letter or at least a picture to update me on how that friends’ kids have grown or what they themselves are up to. Maybe that is why I have always put such effort into writing our Christmas letter every year, that is until recently.

You see, the last few years have brought so many sad and difficult events into the lives of those close to us, that I have not been able to bring myself to write a letter about how merry our lives have been.  How can I send out clever poems about my kids’ graduations or college experiences, when our friends are facing their first Christmas without their oldest child? Or when other friends are spending the Christmas season in the hospital with their firstborn, recovering from a life threatening and life altering event. Why would I write about our funny family vacation adventures when so many family members have died in the last year? Would it really be meaningful to wish my friend a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year when she is going through the aftermath of a devastating accident with her husband? And on top of our close circle of friends and family, there is all the suffering going on in our wider circle of the family of God, both in our own country and abroad. So out of respect and empathy I have boycotted the last couple of Christmas cards, hoping that the next year would be more merry for everyone. But unfortunately the sadness and heartbreak continue, and I am left to question the whole concept of waiting for a “Merry” Christmas.

Where did we get the idea that Christmas was supposed to be “merry” anyway? Surely, this tradition is not inspired from the actual story of Christmas in the Bible. That was a story of an unwed teeenage mother, a  tyrannical government leader advancing his political career at the expense of his own citizens, forcing her to flee her home and raise her newborn baby as a refugee in a foreign country. Nothing cozy or comforting about that. And what about all the mothers of babies who were killed by the king’s men as part of an evil, political power play in hopes of squelching this new “Messiah”,  that was being whispered about in Bethlehem. Those moms could not have mustered a single fa-la-la on that first Noel, and I am quite sure that they did not experience happy holidays anytime soon after that.

Then what of all the merriment we are supposed to be feeling this time of year? Maybe Christmas was not supposed to be merry in the first place. After all, the angels did not bring good tidings of great merriment to the world, but instead, joy. Maybe there is a difference. Webster defines “merry” as cheerful and lively, in high spirits, smiling, lighthearted, carefree even slightly and good humoredly drunk. Some definitions also include the words joyful or joyous, but the biblical definition of joy is far from this dictionary picture. Biblical Joy is a fruit of the spirit, and is therefore the result of having the indwelling of the Holy Spirit, not dependent on circumstances, but having its source in God. In the bible we see joy appear when something good has happened like the prodigal son returning home, but we also see joy amidst suffering like when Paul was in prison. Actually, in his letter to the Phillippians, one of four prison epistles, Paul mentions the word “joy” (in various forms) 16 times.  Paul, who was at the time an inmate and formerly a  persecutor and executor of Christians, had confidence in his future no matter how bleak his present, or his past, for that matter. Now that does not mean that Paul was leaping around the jail cell, making bobtails ring and whistling while he worked. That would not be joy, that would just be irritating. But it does mean that joy can exist in the middle of despair, in anticipation of something good happening, even when something very bad is currently happening.

Joy can also be of help to us in the present. James tells us to “count it all joy…when we meet trials of various kinds.  Hebrews tells us that joy helped Jesus endure the cross, “who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God”. So joy, like its older sister hope, is rooted in the future, but it brings us a calm contentedness like its twin sister peace, a peace which passes all understanding, in the present. That helps us get through the “dark night of our soul”, when we feel like life is not worth living and we are losing control.

So how can we get this joy. Real joy cannot be purchased on a Christmas sale at Walmart, or fabricated out of glittery tinsel or sweet smelling pinecones. Real, lasting joy cannot be created with lights or found under the tree. Real joy is not a filter on Instagram. Real, biblical joy can only be invited and accepted into our hearts, because, like her first cousin, love, real joy comes from and is God. And knowing who He is, what He has done, and what He will do is more than enough good news to bring  tidings of great joy upon our dark, midnight clear.

That is something so glorious that every one of us can celebrate and have something to look forward to, even as the tears flow or the anger sizzles in our current circumstances, even if we feel like shouting, “Ba Hum-bug!” instead of singing “Hallelujah!”.  God does not require us to be merry, but He does ask us to be like Mary, obedient, faithful, even when we don’t understand or see exactly how the future is going to work out for the best, even when He ruins OUR plans. So maybe this whole Merry Christmas thing was actually supposed to be more like Mary’s Christmas, clinging to God, clinging to love?

That could get me dreaming of a LIGHT-filled Christmas. And that might even convince me to send out a Christmas card again this year, at least a picture, maybe a professional one this time, or at least one I could frame. The kids are getting big and I need to capture these years before they fly by, sadness and all. But instead of wishing my family and friends happy holidays, I think I will wish them hope-filled holidays, and I will wish the world joy and the earth peace.

And maybe…Goodwill to ALL, and to ALL a good night.