Out of Christmas, Into Routine

Things can change a whole lot in the span of a month. It wasn’t quite a month ago that I wrote of picking out a Christmas tree at a Christmas tree farm and starting a new family tradition with our family. With great anticipation we brought the tree home. There was a lot to look forward to.

Today we took the tree down. There was no fanfare, no Christmas music playing in the background, no remembering which ornament came from which year. No, just the task of getting everything taken down, boxed up and put away for next year. There was with all of this a certain let down—that the events of the past month had come to an end; that the daily routine which had been interrupted with shopping trips, Christmas parties, Christmas movies, Christmas concerts, Christmas meals, family gatherings, and the like, was now settling back into just that—the daily routine. Nothing wrong with routine. I kind of like routines. I just wasn’t ready for the daily routine to come quite yet.

As my son and I carried the tree outside and readied it to be taken to a recycling center, I wanted some sort of fanfare, some sort of festival. We speak with excitement about “putting up the tree.” Should we not also have a similar excitement as we “take down the tree?” Perhaps we build up the season a bit too much. Could it be that in all our excitement to get to Christmas we really do make it out to be something it was never meant to be, and for which, with all our decorations and gift-giving and receiving, will never be? Are we looking for a perfection we simply can never expect to find?

If I read the Christmas story from Luke there was a lot of routine stuff happening. Some miraculous things too, but routine stuff as well. Take for instance the taxes. Mary and Joseph go to Bethlehem to be registered for a tax. I paid property taxes and car taxes this month. And come January, I’ll be getting ready to file income tax returns. It happens every year. Pretty routine.

Luke continues. Bethlehem is busy and there’s no room in the inn for Mary and Joseph. I don’t know what inns were like in those days, but I know when sports events are happening in certain cities, you couldn’t find a room if you had to. That’s pretty routine.

Mary gives birth to her firstborn, a son named Jesus. It hardly fails when I am in our local hospital that I hear the lullaby melody signaling the birth of a new baby. Again, routine.

But Luke reminds us in the midst of such routine, people encountered God. Remember the shepherds keeping watch over their flock by night? In the midst of routine, God.

So we are back into a routine, or soon will be. Maybe we try so hard to encounter God through the upstaging of Christmas, that we never can hear or see God. Maybe it’s in the routine after all, if we pay attention, open our lives and our hearts, that we will hear God.

Christmas Cookies

The sweet aroma of Christmas cookies filled the house as our guest opened the door to let my daughter and me in. Though she had not been baking all day, she had baked long enough for the smell to permeate the halls and the rooms of her home adding more Christmas cheer to our visit. We were delivering a gift from my daughter and son for her. Mostly it was my daughter’s making but my son managed to get his name on the gift as well.

She invited us to sit as she opened her gift and offered us a gift of her own—freshly baked cookies. These were not your ordinary pick-off-the-grocery-store-refrigerator-shelf-and-pop-into-the-oven type of cookies. No, these cookies were clearly hand made from scratch with years of experience behind them to yield the perfect Christmas cookies.

Each of the cookies were a different shape, size, texture, taste, and smell. But all were great. She explained which ones were the favorite choices of some of her family members and would encourage us to try them as she told us about them. One in particular I remember was what she called a “thumbprint. Roll out the dough, place it on the cookie sheet, press your thumb in the middle, and then place some strawberry jam in the middle. (My mouth is watering just thinking of it.) But while the process sounds simple enough, it was evident these cookies were made by one whose expertise could be matched by few. Not just any one could create such a treat.

Some cookies had sprinkles on them, others had powdered sugar, some were plane but made in unique Christmas shapes like stars, candy canes, and ornaments. We tried each kind—I’m sure of it!

Kate and I both agreed we were glad we had stopped by when we did. What a treat! Ah, but there’s more to the story that makes it even more special for me. Our guest, Maria by name, and some of you will know her, told us that the recipes she used had been handed down from her grandmother. She told us how she remembered as a child growing up in Germany and how her mother and grandmother would make them each Christmas. There was a glint in her eye and a glow on her face. That was a special memory for her. I’m glad she shared it with us.

I could tell that continuing this Christmas tradition for her own children and grandchildren, and friends, was just as important to her as the memory she held in her heart. My mind began to imagine what it must have been like to grow up in Germany and celebrate Christmas. Just the thought added to my Christmas celebration. When it came time to leave she sent us on our way with a hug and a bag of cookies to share with our family.

Creating special memories can easily happen at Christmas. Sometimes they come at unexpected times. But if we let them, those memories will bring peace, hope, joy, and love to our Christmas celebration each year.