A Merry Meltdown

If you are a recipient of my Christmas card this year, please don’t be fooled by it. The big smiles on the faces of my little family set against the backdrop of warmly glowing Christmas lights might make you pause to think something like “Wow, these people sure seem to have it all together!” Heck, I have those thoughts too when I look at the card, until I remember that mere moments before those pictures were taken, I totally lost it. But I will get to that in a minute. First, a little background.

I love receiving cards. Everything about a card is sentimental to me in nature. When someone has the notion to purchase or create a tangible expression of their thoughts for me, and then takes the time to both pen those thoughts and find a way to get them into my hands in a thin little package, I can’t help but feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And I do tend to keep most of the cards I receive.

Recently my husband and I got to work on the task of clearing out of our basement much of the clutter that has accumulated and multiplied over the years. We made great strides, and as I sorted through a of sea of papers to recycle, organize, or shred, my husband glanced at one of the hanging files I had labeled cards. He looked at me sideways and asked an obvious question, mostly to make a point, I think. “Did you just create a folder for cards?” he asked. And much to his chagrin, I said “Yes.” What I didn’t say is that I had actually made two folders for cards, since the first one was already too full. “Don’t worry, I will sort through them at some point after we finish all of this sorting …” I said unconvincingly, thinking all the while about the cards and letters I also have stashed in the attic and throughout my room.

I am trying to embark on a much simpler, uncluttered lifestyle, but correspondence is certainly my weakness. I sometimes find it therapeutic to sit for a while and read through old cards and letters and to bask in the memories that they bring to mind. I often find encouragement, comfort, nostalgia and humor in those moments, and I find that really difficult to part with.

Perhaps because I so love receiving cards and letters, I want to be the kind of person who is really good at writing and sending them to others at all the right times. But somehow I am not that person. I swear I try so hard though. During my sorting process, I may or may not have come across quite a collection of cards that I had written out and sometimes even addressed but never sent … or cards that I had purchased with the intent to write in and send to people that remained blank for so long that I could no longer remember who I had bought them for … cards that I painstakingly made my children write out to family members for gifts they had received that never got to their intended recipients, but instead sat in piles of things I meant to get around to. Sending cards is certainly not a big strength of mine.

Now, picture this if you will. Picture a woman who is determined to become more like the card-sender that she wants to be; a woman who wants to brighten the faces of her family and friends by sending warm thoughts and good cheer all wrapped up in an envelope embellished with a Christmas-inspired forever stamp in the corner. This woman, teetering on the verge of exhaustion because of her night job and unforgiving chaotic weekly schedule, simply wants a few “good” family photos to choose from to turn these warm thoughts into a visual display good cheer. And so, when this woman (who, of course, is me) asks her sweet little cherub children to get dressed one Saturday afternoon (since the morning had been filled with decorating the house for Christmas in their pj’s) to take some family photos and was met with resistance, whining, and a particularly bad attitude, she had a complete and total meltdown.

“All I want is for us to have FUN together!” I yell-cried in a rage of frustrated defeat. “Just forget it! Don’t worry about I want! Forget about the pictures!” I was furious, thinking about how that entire day had been set aside for making potentially wonderful memories with my family – decorating gingerbread houses (which I was secretly dreading but was being hounded about every five minutes, it seemed), decorating the Christmas tree and every available surface throughout our living area with holiday trinkets and photos, watching Christmas movies while snacking on cookies and eggnog … it should have been an idyllic day.

Yet there I stood, in a full blown ugly cry, cringing at the irony of it all. And then when one of my mini-me’s countered back with a sassy “Okay, great! No pictures!” and started sauntering over to our computer, well, that’s when I really lost it. “YES, PICTURES!” I bellowed, completely contradicting what I had said mere moments before. “I am a person too! This whole day is an attempt to make sure you guys have fun, and ALL I WANT IS A NICE FAMILY PICTURE TO REMEMBER HOW MUCH FUN WE ARE HAVING!!!” I screamed, conjuring wide eyed looks and silence from the little people in my presence.

Thankfully, my husband was not around to see such an embarrassing lapse of self control. He had gone to work for a few hours that afternoon. I was offered mumbled apologies by the child who had dared sass me, and after that, we had the most cooperative and enjoyable photo session I can ever remember having.  My kids smiled sweetly and brightly as I clicked away, following me outdoors and in to various locations for an array of backgrounds. We used the tripod and took some pictures all together, laughing sincerely and truly enjoying each other.

By the time my husband got home from work that day, my meltdown was all but forgotten and we were even able to get in a few cooperative photos of the four of us. Afterwards, we made gingerbread houses (which was more fun than I had anticipated) and drank lots of eggnog. We ended the day with cookies and a movie and I can honestly say it was a fun day overall.

From now on, I am considering starting most days that I am looking forward to with a giant meltdown so that it will simply have to improve from there. And as I eagerly open Christmas cards with photos that I receive this year, I will pray for each family, regardless of the size of their grins or the cuteness of their kids, knowing well that the process of attaining those photos may have been a nightmare. (And if you are reading this and were able to take an enjoyable, easy family photo this year, I am truly happy for you. Please, teach me your ways!)

Merry Christmas during your jolliest moments and especially during your weakest ones. For this is a season of hope – in the divine, in the eternal, and even in the mundane. I hope I didn’t damage my kids too greatly by letting them see my meltdown. I hope instead that they are learning that when they see me, they see a person who is flawed, who has feelings, and who needs grace … a person who couldn’t be more grateful that unto us a Savior was born. A person who can move beyond a meltdown and embrace the love around her. Though we most definitely don’t “have it all together,” I can say that the smiles in our photo card this year are real, even if they were a little hard to come by.