Sabbath Devotional :: The Gift of an Imperfect Christmas

imperfect Christmas - Mormon Women for Ethical Government — .

It was Christmas of 2011. Christmas Day was on a Sunday. I had spent much of the month of December anticipating and preparing, looking forward to how wonderful Christmas was going to be for my two young daughters and my family.

As Christmas Eve approached, I had a beautiful vision in my mind of how perfect everything would be. My vision of Christmas Eve included decorating cookies with my daughters, wrapping the last of the presents, listening to Christmas music all day long, preparing a lovely dinner, sharing a spiritual message, taking our traditional Christmas Eve photos, and putting cookies out for Santa. On Christmas morning we’d be awakened bright and early by excited children. The girls would put on their beautiful new Christmas dresses, and we’d go to church together. We’d come home to a wonderful day of opening presents, relaxing together, playing with new toys, and eating lots of good food.

That’s how I envisioned it in my mind. This is how it actually went: My youngest daughter became ill, so I spent all day on Christmas Eve caring for a sick and miserable 18-month-old who wanted to be held constantly. My day full of Christmas music turned into a day full of a singing purple dinosaur, because that’s the only thing she wanted to listen to. All the Christmas preparations were done in a frenzied fashion, whenever I could squeeze a moment in between trying to console her, force medicine down her, and get her to let me put her down.

By the end of the day, I was frazzled and frustrated. The kids wouldn’t touch the special dinner I had prepared, and our traditional Christmas Eve photos were not exactly full of smiles. By this point, the spiritual message had gone out the window. We decided to just put the cookies out for Santa and get the kids to bed. Just as my oldest was picking out the cookies to leave for Santa, she said her tummy really hurt. And then she threw up. A lot.

I was up all night, obsessively checking on my sick kids, watching for more vomit from my 4-year-old and trying to console a feverish 18-month-old. Sometime around 3 a.m., as I was worrying and fretting about my sick girls and thinking about all my wonderful Christmas plans that had gone down the drain and all my expectations that hadn’t been met, I found myself thinking about Mary.

When Mary found out she would be giving birth to the Son of God, what did she envision? What did she expect? I don’t know, but I would guess she didn’t imagine she would be giving birth far away from her home, in a stable, because there was no room for her anywhere else.

But that is why we have Christmas. We have Christmas because a perfect baby was born in imperfect circumstances, in an imperfect world.

During those moments of reflection in the early Christmas morning hours, I came a lot closer to understanding what Christmas is really about. While there are so many beautiful, wonderful things to enjoy during this season, you could take all of them away, and the real reason for Christmas — the real beauty of Christmas — would still be there. Without the trees, the lights, the presents, the stockings, the treats, and the feasts, Christ is still there. Without the picture-perfect family moments — even without family at all — Christ is still there.

In fact, it is actually because of the less-than-perfect moments that Jesus Christ is there. So Christmas should not only be about the beauty, wonder, and joy that we see in the movies and envision in our minds. Perhaps Christmas is even more about the ugliness, heartache, and despair we encounter in this fallen world.

With all of this in mind, I didn’t feel disappointed or upset on Christmas morning when my sick girls didn’t even remember what day it was, or when their beautiful new Christmas dresses remained in the closet. It didn’t matter that the rest of Christmas Day wasn’t at all what I had envisioned or expected. I threw my expectations out the window and focused on what Christmas is really all about.

The lessons of my imperfect Christmas experience that year have extended far beyond uneaten dinners, unworn dresses, and unmet expectations. Since that time, I have continued to become more aware of the heartache and despair so many are experiencing. I have experienced some heartache myself. Life, as it so often does for all of us, has brought agonizing challenges and heavy burdens. When I am struggling with disappointment or discouragement, I often reflect on the lesson I learned that Christmas.

Sometimes we do experience the joy, the beauty, and the wonder. Occasionally we do have those picture-perfect moments we’ve envisioned in our minds. But sometimes — often — things don’t go according to our plans, no matter how good or well-thought-out those plans may be. Sometimes, despite all our righteous desires and intentions, our circumstances are less than ideal.

Sometimes we are disappointed. Sometimes we face discouragement, depression, and even despair. Sometimes we must deal with sickness, pain, and disease. Sometimes we face death and loss and consuming grief. Sometimes we are betrayed or hurt by others. Sometimes we make mistakes. Sometimes the people we love make mistakes. Sometimes life is just not fair.

Our mortal experience here on earth is far from perfect. But that is why we have Christmas: Because our Heavenly Father gave us the gift of his Son. He gave us a Savior so that when life is imperfect and difficult and downright ugly, we can find healing and hope. He gave us a Savior so that despite how imperfect we are and how imperfect everyone around us is, we can all ultimately “be perfected in Him” (Moroni 10:32).

Since that Christmas I have been learning to stop chasing perfection and instead let all the imperfections and disappointments and messiness be a reminder to me of what Christmas is truly all about: Why that baby was born in a stable, why we are celebrating His birth. That is a lesson worth reminding myself of all year long.