When did Christmas get so complicated?

It’s not even Thanksgiving yet, and still, Christmas has taken over. This is no surprise, as it’s crept earlier and earlier every year. But it bothers me, for several reasons. First of all, I love Thanksgiving, and feel that the Santa-shaped shadow is looming over this once-simple holiday. Yes, I know the stories I was told about Thanksgiving growing up (happy Pilgrims and Indians frolicking together) are way off base, but I enjoy the tone it has developed over the years. It’s all about being grateful, and expressing that gratitude to others. Ok, who am I kidding? I like the food, and maybe this is my main reason. Turkey (the dark part with the skin), stuffing (I prefer the Stovetop variety) and green bean casserole all washed down with a slice of punkin’ pie….just drooling thinking about it.

I am blessed to have 19 first cousins on my mom’s side alone, and I can still remember the pure joy I felt while playing with the youngins, waiting for the Thanksgiving spread to be put out. My grandparents lived in this amazing six-bedroom house, with an infinite number of places to play hide and seek. We’d all reveal ourselves, though, when an aunt or uncle would roam the house declaring, “It’s time to eat!” We’d tromp down stairs, climb out of closets, and scurry from bedrooms all headed for the small kitchen. We wafted on the smell of our grandpa’s smoked turkey and landed in line next to our squirming cousins. Of course, Grandma always went first. But not before Grandpa said grace, “Father, Son, Holy Ghost, who eats the fastest gets the most.”

And you know what? I don’t ever remember anyone talking about Christmas already, except to perhaps line up schedules (we had family in KC and Alabama). We may have put up the tree the next day, but I can’t recall. I just remember enjoying one holiday before being consumed with the next. Now, though, I feel that’s impossible. Like we’re on a race towards Dec. 25, and Thanksgiving is merely a hurdle to pass along the way. And there’s never enough “stuff” to buy. Decorations, presents, food…it’s overwhelming. And intimidating. My daughter has started noticing that our home isn’t as “decorated” as some other homes during the holidays (as in I didn’t put up ANY Halloween decorations. It’s not my thing.) Part of me wants to buy out Hobby Lobby, deck every hall in this house (there’s only one) and give her what she desires. But for what? To detract from the real meaning of the day?

And I suppose that’s what bothers me the most. With all the blinking displays, sappy music and pressure to buy, buy, BUY!, the story that started it all, the “reason for the season,” is lost. The lights, the twinkling ornaments and sparkly gift wrap don’t let the message of Christ’s birth shine. Now that we’re laying down our own traditions in our home, I want to ensure that we don’t celebrate Christmas by “default,” allowing our family to be caught in the stream of consumerism.

Growing up, we always had simple Christmases. Don’t get me wrong, I never felt deprived. Rather, there was a sense of calm and true celebration when we came together as a family. We would decorate the tree maybe a week before Christmas, and our only real decorations were the cards my mom would hang up from friends and family. Nat King Cole’s Christmas album would hum in the background, and the outside world just melted away. Our tree was far from perfect, but hanging the ornaments was always a family affair. Perfection was never our desire. In fact, our tree could have given Charlie Brown’s a run for its money a time or two.

This year, I’m officially declaring the pressure “off.” I’ll decorate my own home when I have time, and with the decorations I already have. I won’t be consumed with achieving “Pinterest perfection.” Instead, I’ll try to turn back the clock to my own childhood, when things were less complicated. We’ll say “NO!” to the consumer juggernaut. Presents will be thoughtful, but won’t pile up under the tree like apologies for moments that should have been enjoyed throughout the year. And as for our tree? The ornaments will be hung with care, but not concern about aesthetics. Children’s laughter will hang from the branches and a sweet family memory will be our shining star.