a simple christmas

NOVEMBER 2009 - I may be speaking prematurely here, but I think I’ve about got this Christmas thing figured out.

In the past, I’ve spent way too much time worrying about the things I don’t have and not enough time enjoying the things I do have. So, this Christmas I’ve made a commitment of sorts. It’s all about simplicity.

To set the record immediately straight, don’t read “simple” as “old fashioned.” I have no intention of heading out to the woods to cut down a pine, hauling it back to the house on a skid and decorating it with strung popcorn, cranberries and a tin star.

Nor do I have plans of gathering our extended family together for a potluck so big that the table bends under the weight of the casseroles. In the past, that has been the dream, but not anymore.

Fact is, it takes 10 times the effort to put together a so-called simple Christmas than it does the one I’m putting together this year. And, the worst part is that we’re so stressed by all the preparations for simplicity that by the time the holiday gets here Christmas Day passes by in a hazy blur of yawns, headaches, grumpy children and short-tempered adults.

That’s no way to spend Christmas. Too much has happened in this past year for me to waste any time staging a Christmas card photo with the whole family dressed in red Christmas sweaters.

This year, simplicity starts with the tree.

Tired of wrestling a chain-sawed “live” tree into an unwilling holder that only sends me into near cussing fits, I bought a pre-lit artificial kind at the end of the season last year. The result was a much-simpler day-after-Thanksgiving. The tree went up in three easy pieces, and all I had to do was plug her in.

That left lots more time to carefully place each of our treasured ornaments on the tree and to stop and reminisce about many of them as I hung them. It was a day or so later that I realized my children didn’t run for cover this year when I hauled out the ornaments. They actually stuck around, asked about the ornaments and offered to help.

Simplicity continues with stepping away from the shopping frenzy.

My wife and I aren’t buying presents for each other this year. We bought living room furniture in November instead. We needed the furniture a lot worse than we needed a series of nice, but hardly needed gifts. Besides, the sales girl that helped us was as cute as one of Santa’s elves. It felt like we had been to the North Pole when we left the store.

This year, the uncomplicated Christmas will focus on the hope and faith the holiday truly celebrates.

After the year we’ve had, my family could sure use a little hope:

We moved into a new house just before the holidays last year so that my mom, whose rapidly-declining health demanded extra care, could move in with us.

Back in March, my daughter, who had just turned five, had three seizures that wouldn’t stop until the doctors put her into a drug-induced coma. She’s had MRIs and EEGs and umpteen blood tests. A specialist in Atlanta says she has epilepsy, and that pretty much has scared the life out of us.

At the exact same time that my wife and I were in the emergency room with our daughter, my son, who was 7 at the time, called me to tell me that my mom, whose blood sugar has a tendency to plummet without notice, was unresponsive in our living room floor. I left my wife and daughter at the hospital to go check on my mom and son, who, by the time I got there, had forced fed her a Hershey bar and made four peanut butter crackers for her to eat. She was sitting up and talking when I got there, and I couldn’t have been more proud of my little hero.

Back in July, the day after an Independence Day picnic, one of my best buddies was murdered, and a couple of days later two other of my friends were charged with the crime.

These same people helped my wife and I ring in the New Year at our new house just last year.

It’s been a long year, and I am in need of a little hope this Christmas.

This year I’m foregoing anything that’s too fussy, complicated or meaningless this year. I’m not wasting anytime wrestling with a tree or nearly hanging myself in a tangle of extension cords on top of my roof. I’m not standing in long lines with agitated shoppers. My three-piece, pre-lit tree is up, and I didn’t cuss once. My shopping is done, and I haven’t yet lost my temper waiting to pay. I’m ready to enjoy a simple Christmas with peace on earth and goodwill toward men.