All I want for Christmas… is for 2017 to end.
This year has just been tough. Let’s be honest here – this is not a pity party – this is just honesty. Sometimes you see moms on social media prancing around in their perfect outfits with their fresh from the salon hair and kids that actually have hair that’s brushed and you feel a little defeated inside. They talk about the deluxe vacations they’re about to go on and how their kids won every game, even in the sports they don’t play and …. blah. blah. blah…. blahblah. You just stop listening or caring because it’s depressing.
So here’s the deal – I’m calling it – and breaking every single rule of grammar while I’m at it – I’m over this year. You can be too. We can have a party, just not a pity party.
This time last year I was getting ready for my first kidney stone surgery which would lead to a second surgery a week later. I got over that and back to normal life only to blow out my knee getting out of my car. Watch out y’all, she’s got skills.
I finally get up and going again and feeling somewhat normal only to start worrying about war with North Korea and what else the news was going to drum up that day to anger every American in sight.
And if that wasn’t bad enough, a jerk named Harvey blew into town and life as we knew it changed overnight. The worst part is that there’s only so many times you can tell your friends that you’re sorry that their house was destroyed and only so much you can do for them. It’s a helpless feeling.
Harvey also destroyed businesses, some which were barely hanging on to begin with – some that your loved ones worked at – and they’re now without a job.
Part of me couldn’t wait for Christmas to get here so that we could decorate and be filled with the happy holiday spirit. But the holiday spirit even feels different this year. The decorations are just masking something deeper.
Maybe in the doldrums of this year you realized that it’s not things that make a life but people. You shop less and find joy in what you have because so many do not have even the wavy kitchen knives that made the knife salesman scratch his head in wonder like you do. Sure the tips are all bent from opening up cans with knives but hey, you have them.
Maybe in the fit that was this year you learn to trust God more and fear words like “war” and “hate” less.
Maybe in this year you learned to embrace the fact that you’re not a perfect mom and will never be one – because Jesus came to save the imperfect.
Maybe this post doesn’t make sense – and maybe the nonexistent grammar rules are making you twitchy – but that’s OK because if there’s anything I’ve learned this year it’s that it doesn’t have to make sense but showing each other your true self is more valuable than parading around in a mask of perfection.
So here I am – ready to throw 2017 out the window like one of those car reindeer antlers – imperfect, moody and slightly broken but still loved and blessed far beyond all trials.
If you’re in the same spot, it’s OK to say that this year sucked. And it’s OK to say that you’re ready to move on. It’s OK to be imperfect. God has never left you and He came for you, as you are – imperfect and with non-trendy shoes that are older than your youngest child.
Say it with me now, “Go away 2017!”.
So all I want for Christmas is for 2017 to end. It’s time to kick this bad boy to the curb and claim joy again, even when you’re in the school drop off line in your pajamas. You can do it with me. Who’s in?