Cabbage Patch Christmas

One Christmas, early in our marriage, the beloved Swede’s family came to New England to celebrate with us.  My in-laws had friends who owned a ski cabin in Vermont which they were gracious enough to allow our family to use.  We packed up our cars with food, gifts, and even a table-top sized tree, and drove together to ski country to celebrate a non-traditional Christmas together.

On Christmas Eve, we checked to see if any of the local churches might be hosting a service.  We found one inviting visitors to come for a multi-media presentation of the Christmas story.  We slipped inside the simple, white-steepled, New England church, and settled our family into the very last wooden pew for the presentation.  It turned out to be a slide show with music and narration, but it was the Christmas story.

We watched as slides of faces of unfamiliar children, costumed as familiar characters, flashed across the screen in the front of the sanctuary.  Shepherds.  Angels.  Mary.  Joseph.

And then we saw it.

The manger scene.  On the screen at the front of the church flashed a ridiculously large photo of a manger cradling a Cabbage Patch doll, round painted eyes wide open, and staring out at us all.

And we all started to laugh, and began to shake that wooden pew.  We tried our best to stop, but failed.  Miserably.

My mother-in-law wiped tears from her eyes, trying her hardest to regain her composure.  Each time she thought she had, however, giggles erupt whenever one of her sons simply looked in her direction.  Which they did.  Repeatedly.

Whenever I see a Cabbage Patch doll, I can’t help but think of that Christmas Eve service and smile.

I don’t mean to poke fun at the good folks from that little Vermont congregation.  I’m sure they were good-hearted people, just trying to create a fresh way of retelling the Christmas story.  Those of us who follow Jesus, and want to infuse our family celebrations with meaning, often do likewise.

We look for books, for traditions, for props and symbols that will help us retell the familiar story in new and fresh ways, in ways that will stick.  And while there are some lovely, helpful resources available for planning meaningful Christmas celebrations, I think some of the suggestions are simply trying too hard.  Looking back, I know that some of the ways I tried to get my children to appreciate the true meaning of Christmas came across as forced and contrived.  Despite my efforts, I couldn’t force the Christmas story into their hearts.

Maybe we shouldn’t be surprised when our efforts fall short in trying to create meaningful Christmas experiences for our children, for our families.  Maybe the problem with trying to do Christmas right is the same problem I stumble over again and again in my life.  I keep confusing faithful Christian living with my efforts, with the things I do.  I forget that Christmas, like the gospel, is a gift.  Christmas doesn’t become meaningful because of the activities I plan or the things I do.  Christmas is meaningful because it is God’s gift, one I am meant to receive.

When I am open to receiving Christmas in the small moments, in the glimmers of light that shine in the dark places of my life, I am reminded that it is God's gift to me.  When I receive the gifts of a quiet moment near my tree, or of the beauty of listening to my son as he plays Christmas music, or even the memory of seeing that Cabbage Patch doll in the manger while surrounded by my dear family, Christmas comes to me in new and fresh ways.

How might you receive Christmas this year?

Joining the Faith Barista Christmas Jam: