When Holiday Expectations Fall Short
Holiday planning usually begins in my head when the colors outside start changing from green to burnt orange. Very casually at first, I’ll pull into my driveway and suddenly remember the gift my daughter wanted, making a mental note to order it. An email from the school will arrive shortly after, informing me of the donations they are collecting. Soon, the reminders are everywhere and the running list of things to do begins swirling around in my mind:
Take a family picture for Christmas cards.
Order Christmas cards.
Plan Thanksgiving menu.
Buy gifts for husband, kids, parents, friends, teachers.
Plan Advent activities.
Volunteer for the school holiday party.
Don’t forget donated gifts.
Confirm Christmas plans with in-laws.
Send Christmas cards.
In an effort to make this special time of year truly feel special, many of us scrupulously plan for it. We lay out outfits for family pictures, purchase the Advent study for the kids by mid-November, take note of holiday wish lists, and, if we really have our stuff together, we get the Christmas cards out before Christmas.
And sometimes, none of it turns out how we expect.
More than once, even my best-laid plans and detailed lists have failed to produce the holiday season of my dreams.
In our home, unmet holiday expectations began early in our parenting journey, as we reconciled the reality of parenting a son with autism—who struggles profoundly with busy places and loud noises—with a time of year that is, frankly, busy and loud.
Then there was the Thanksgiving I spent hunched over a toilet, unable to keep a bite of food down as the little baby in my womb made himself comfortable and me less than. Four weeks later at Christmas, I found myself in the same bathroom, still begging God to speed up the first trimester.
One year, it was the $300 we spent on family pictures at the orchard, a last-minute stop at Target because I did not like the kids’ outfits, a significant argument with my husband on the way there, and then three dozen pictures in which none—not one—captured everyone happy at the same time.
And then there are the Advent plans and activities with my kids I have more than once stopped doing by mid-December, the presents I forgot to buy, the toys the kids never played with, the awkward silence at the table when the night is going great and then someone brings up politics.
We want the holidays to be special, set apart from the humdrum of the rest of the year. We want traditions and memories for our children, and all we ask for in return is that things go according to the plan, with just a little gratitude and contentment from the people around us. Are beautiful decorations, sipping hot cocoa by the fireplace, hearing “thank you, Mom,” and playing Michael Buble to the sound of kids happily decorating sugar cookies—and definitely not arguing with one another—just too much for a mama to ask?
Sometimes, yes, it is.
We’ve all been there. Our expectations for a magical holiday, both for us and for our kids, turn out to be miles from reality, and we end up living in that space between the two, frustrated and disappointed and, truly, missing the whole point.
I don’t know if I should blame Pinterest or Instagram or just my own heart (probably, definitely, my own heart), but at some point, I bought into the lie that holidays should look a certain way. We should have family pictures. We should buy matching pajamas. We should make cookies/decorate the tree/plan the party/do all the things. Holiday magic should rain down on everyone and bring with it good moods, manners, behavior, and health, because, in the tone of an angry Kate McCallister pounding her fists down on the airline ticket counter in Home Alone, “THIS IS CHRISTMAS!”
Who did this to us, friends? Who said that the holidays were about an output of some kind, a display to be proud of, a family that photographs well?
Who said the holidays were about us at all?
Looking for perfection in the wrong place
All of the things we enjoy doing around the holidays—the traditions, the gifts, the pictures, the memory-making—these are all common graces from a good God who gives good gifts, but they are not necessities. When we elevate our expectations so highly that we end up bitter every time they are not met, we fail to see the most obvious point of Christmas: Jesus came to rescue us because we will never be able to meet expectations. Our hearts are too tainted with selfishness.[1] Our desires are too watered down by the allure of this world.[2] Our need for the approval of man takes up more room than our desire for the glory of God.[3] We will never meet the holy, righteous requirements of God. And we don’t have to, because Jesus did. His arrival in this world set in motion the most miraculous, almost-too-good-to-be-true rescue plan, and because of that rescue, we have a living hope—that is what we are celebrating.
While striving to make this season special and full of meaningful, family traditions, let’s remind ourselves of this truth: it has never been a mother’s job to make childhood so magical that our children don’t see their great need for Jesus, too. Our children do not need a perfect holiday; they need a perfect Savior. Every unmet expectation, every holiday frustration, every tear or argument is a chance to show our children the reason we needed our hearts to be rescued. They are opportunities to truly show our children the only place we will find that rescue: in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus. The glamour and lights and endless Pinterest possibilities will be fighting even harder for our attention this time of year. But let’s fix our eyes on the only thing that will ever be perfect, our good and gracious King.
[1] Jeremiah 17:9
[2] Proverbs 21:2
[3] Galatians 1:10
