Why We Do Christmas

This was going to be my annual Christmas newsletter, and it got too long.  I had to start over and do something different.  But here's the original:

I took on too many Christmas projects this year.  I admit it.  I thought I was Super Woman and it turns out that I’m not.  Shopping and wrapping gifts for what totals to be about 22 people.  Decorating the house to make it glow with merry Christmas cheer.  Making a little stuffed Nativity to keep under the tree for the kids to play with.  Baking pumpkin rolls and biscotti for friends and neighbors.  Sending out 85 Christmas cards.  Writing, printing and folding the ridiculous newsletter that you are now reading.  And then I thought it would be a good idea to make some Christmas gifts.  Yes, MAKE them.  I thought it would be cute to make all of my nieces and nephews and my own two children their own little personalized patchwork pillow with their name embroidered on it.  I was well into the project before I realized that many of them have three-syllabil names.  What was I thinking?  I’ll have to sew my fingers to the bone to get all eight pillows done by Christmas, because I wasn’t struck with my brilliant idea until several days after Thanksgiving.

One day last week I was deeply entrenched in all of these projects, plus a few that I forgot to mention.  It was nearing eleven o’clock in the morning.  I was sitting on the living room floor in my bathrobe, wrapping paper strewn everywhere, Christmas music wafting from the CD player in the kitchen.  There were several dozen biscotti cooling on the kitchen counter, the sink was full of dishes, Patience was running around the house wearing a tu-tu and rubber boots and Benaiah was rolling on a blanket on the floor next to me.  He was probably naked.  I don’t quite remember.  Just when I realized that Patience had gotten into my sewing basket and was scattering straight pins around the house, Ben called. 

I answered the phone while changing Benaiah’s diaper and picking up straight pins at the same time.  “Hello?”

“Hey, Babe!”  His voice was full of Christmas cheer.  “Would it really throw off your day if I came home right now?”

I glanced frantically around at the mass chaos while Benaiah peed on the blanket because I hadn’t gotten his diaper on yet.

“Um, no!  That would be great!”  I lied quickly, got off the phone, and desperately tried to regain some order to the house before he got home.

I failed.  When he walked in the door 30 minutes later, I was still in my robe, the dishes were still in the sink, Patience was still oddly clothed, and Benaiah was still mostly naked.  I’m not sure what I did with that 30 minutes.  I think I picked up straight pins.

Ben stood in the door and surveyed the destruction.  “Wow.”  He said.  “You really do get things cleaned up before I come home.”

Just then our neighbor drove up, so I rushed to slice some lemon bread and make coffee.  Ben disappeared into the bedroom to change.

An hour or so later our neighbor was gone, and I still, STILL hadn't finished anything. Dishes, wrapping, cleaning and sewing all awaited me. The children were not yet clothed properly, and neither was I, so I headed to the bedroom to get dressed.  Finally.

That’s when I saw that I had left Ben’s main Christmas gift from me laying out on the bed.  He had called when I was in the middle of wrapping, and I had forgotten that I left it out.   I went and found him in the carport.

“Um, Babe, did you see something when you went in the bedroom earlier?”

His eyes darted around nervously as he tried to think up a good Christmas lie.  Tears pooled in my eyes and my voice squeaked as I tried not to cry.  “You saw it, didn’t you?  I can’t believe I forgot I left it laying there!”

He came and wrapped his arms around me, because he’s wonderful like that.  “Don’t worry about it, Babe.  I just barely saw it out of the corner of my eye and I looked away, so I don’t know exactly what it is.  I’ll still be a little bit surprised.”

I cried into his plaid flannel shirt for a minute, then shuffled dejectedly back into the house to do dishes.  I stood there looking at the basket full of Christmas card envelopes to be addressed, the counter full of biscotti to be wrapped and put away, the pile of presents still to be wrapped, the sewing basket full of pillows yet to be finished, .  I stood there and I looked at it all and I thought, “Why?  Why in the world am I doing all this?”

Then my gaze rested on the my children happily playing on the brightly colored Christmas quilt I had spread on the living room floor at the foot of the Christmas tree.  Benaiah was rolled over on his side, holding a corner of the quilt and cramming it in his mouth.  Patience was quietly playing with the stuffed Nativity that lives under the tree.  She glanced up at me and held up the little baby Jesus that we keep wrapped like a gift until Christmas morning.  She cradled the tiny gift and said, “Look, Mommy!  This Baby Jesus!  This God!” 

I left the dishes, the biscotti, the pillows and the wrapping and crawled down onto the Christmas quilt with my kids.  I tickled Benaiah’s fat belly, pulled Patience onto my lap, and picked up the red-wrapped Baby Jesus.

Yes, I remembered.  That is why I do all of it.  Christmas is a lot of work.  Indeed it is.  It takes effort to make it special and memorable and different from the day-to-day routine.  But is there anything, ANYTHING routine about God sending His one and only son to earth in the form of a tiny baby?  That is not routine.  That is unusual, mysterious, miraculous.  And it was a huge part of a story that forever changed our relationship with God Himself.  Because of the baby in the manger on that starry night who grew to become the ultimate sacrifice, we can approach God with confidence.

That's a story worth putting effort into.  I want my kids to grow up knowing that Christmas is a very, very big deal.  Not because of the presents and the food and the fun, but because of Jesus.  But I will use the gifts, the baking, the making and the giving as tools to teach them about the beautiful Nativity story.  The tree, the gifts, the food and the mess that comes with it all.  I will continue to put enormous effort into all that Christmas entails because it is an enormous story that deserves enormous recognition. 

Because its worth it to remember.

Ghost of Christmas Past

I need inspiration for my annual Christmas newsletter, so I'm re-posting these in hopes that some form of writing/internet osmosis will occur and I will think of something to write.



Christmas 2010
Dear Friends and Family,

I like to decorate for Christmas.  Wreaths with red berries, green garland, plaid ribbon laced with gold, and the more twinkle lights the better!  I think Ben is still getting used to my extreme love of Christmas, but this year he was the one eager to get the tree up.  I haven’t been feeling quite as Christmasy (is that a word?) as I usually do, but the other day something happened to bring back my Christmas spirit full force.

 I was on my knees in the living room with the season’s paraphernalia piled around me.  Plastic tubs full of lights, half of which didn’t work, rolls of ribbon, and boxes of many small breakable things to hang on the tree.  Ah, and the nativity. I opened the box and even though I’ve seen it before, my breath caught unexpectedly when the tissue wrapping fell from the figure of Mary and Jesus.  She kneels, cradling the baby in her arms, looking down lovingly the way I so often look at Patience. I placed the tiny figurine on the sofa table and sat back, surprised at the unbidden tears that sprung into my eyes. This, I thought, is Christmas.  I know the story of Jesus so well I sometimes forget to think about it.  But as I sat on the floor surrounded by the chaos of Christmas, the enormity of what we are celebrating washed over me.  God sent Jesus, in the form of a tiny baby, to save the world.  So simple, yet so profound.  

What better reason to celebrate? That’s why we hang white icicle lights from our eaves to twinkle out, silently telling those who drive by that Jesus is the Light of the World.  It’s why we give gifts to those we love, reflecting the unmatched generosity of God, who so freely gave us his only Son.

God has blessed us so much this past year.  Ben has successfully built two beautiful cabins in the Beavers Bend area and just started a third.  He’s been able to acquire all the tools he needs for Netherton Construction to be well equipped and keep growing.  He loves his work and even though the days are sometimes long, he often says that it’s satisfying to spend his days creating.  It’s wonderful that he’s able to use his God-given talent to make a living for us. 

Our favorite blessing of the year is obviously Patience Elizabeth, already 8 months old.  We looked forward to having her, but we had no idea how much fun she would really be.  She has two teeth on the bottom, she loves to eat avocados, and her Daddy is her favorite person in the world.  She gets really excited when he comes home from work.  Lots of squealing, bouncing, and big slobbery kisses.

And what do my days look like?  Let’s see, I change diapers, do laundry, clean house, buy groceries and cook.  Then I start all over again.  And I love it.  Our home is the most beautiful place in the world to me, and I’m so thankful I get to spend so much time here, working to make it a pleasant and happy place for Ben and Patience. 

So, back to Christmas.  As you see, God has given us much more than we deserve.  The Christmas season reminds me of that, perhaps because it is the season of giving.  Some like to complain of our culture’s mindless materialism at Christmastime, but I prefer to think of it as a beautiful reflection of God’s great love for us in giving the greatest Gift of all.
Have fun celebrating Jesus!

Benjamin, Sarah and Patience Netherton


Christmas 2011
Dear Friends and Family,

I’ve never felt as unprepared for Christmas as I feel this year. Its just around the corner and I’ve done no Christmas baking, minimal shopping, and this newsletter will reach some of you very late indeed. Half the lights on our tree burned out after we got it up and decorated, I ran out of gift labels so have resorted to writing names on packages with a Sharpie, and when Ben and I poured our first cup of Christmas eggnog we both noticed it had a funny taste. I looked at the jug, and I had grabbed lite eggnog in my rush at the store. What was I thinking? We don’t do lite anything in our house. So, needless to say, I’ve felt a little out of sorts. But, as usual, something happened to put things back in perspective.

I was unpacking my Nativity - most beloved of all Christmas decorations - when Patience came pitter-pattering across the wood floor in her purple striped p.j.’s. She’s just tall enough to see over the edge of the sofa table where I had placed the figure of Mary and Jesus. Dimpled hands gripped the edge of the table and hazel-green eyes stared in wide-eyed wonder. On tip-toe she stretched to gently trace her tiny finger over the figurine. She looked at me, rosy lips puckering into a perfect O, then her gaze locked back onto Jesus. I sat back in the midst of my burned out lights and lists of unfinished Things To Do, and watched my little daughter focus on nothing but Jesus. After a minute she toddled away, leaving little greasy fingerprints on the edge of the table.

I regained my perspective of Christmas that day. It doesn’t matter if I have a dozen strands of lights burned out on my tree. It doesn’t matter if I get around to making thin mints this year. It doesn’t even really matter if I send out this newsletter. All that has purpose and place, but when I start focusing on my lists just for the sake of getting it done as opposed to doing it in celebration of the birth of Christ, my priorities are off. I want to see that figurine of Jesus and Mary the way Patience did, as though for the first time. I want to reach out to Him, and stretch myself as far as I need to. I’ve not yet wiped those tiny fingerprints from the table where the Nativity rests. I leave them there as a reminder to view the miracle of Christmas with the eyes and faith of a child. To see this season for what it really is: the greatest cause for celebration in the history of mankind, because God came to earth. That’s a reason to celebrate, and we will sing his praises, even if we have no thin mints and the eggnog is lite.

Speaking of praising God, we are so thankful to him for his many blessings in our lives. Sometimes I look around, take a deep breath, and wonder how its possible that existence can be so beautiful. We still live in our little grey house in the woods with a creek out back and we love it. Ben is still going strong in the contracting business. He’s developed quite a reputation in the area as an excellent builder. I stay home to keep house and chase Patience who is now a very active 19 month old. She fills the house with laughter and it’s a beautiful sound. Our big news of the year is that we’ll be having another baby in June! We decided Patience needs a little partner in crime. We look forward to the new addition to the Netherton family!

For us, life itself is a reason to celebrate, and the Christmas season just causes us to kick it up a notch. Maybe I’ll get my act together, replace the lights on the tree, whip out a batch of thin mints and actually mail this newsletter. But if not, ‘tis still the season, and that star still shone over Bethlehem. That’s what I’ll think about as I sip lite eggnog. Maybe its not so bad after all.

Have fun celebrating Jesus!

Benjamin, Sarah, Patience and Baby Netherton