Finding treasures this Christmas

 We put our Christmas tree up last weekend. I am a little bit of a control freak about the tree. Actually, I'm a little bit of a control freak period. I believe every year since we've been married, my husband has made some comment about it being time to put up our country bumpkin tree. I usually get slightly offended and defend our tree. It is not country bumpkin. Sure there are the few ornaments that my mom probably bought at Cracker Barrel, but there are Disney ornaments, and shiny ornaments, and Hallmark ornaments, and tons of baby ornaments. I shake off the offense and we then usually all put up the decorations together. And then I spend the rest of December rearranging the ornaments so that they are equally spaced and not clumped oddly (like too many snowmen together). I think I might have OCD. Some of you might have worse cases of OCD than I do and may disagree that I have it when you see the dust bunnies that occasionally appear, but I literally get tense and can feel my pulse quicken when I see clumps of ornaments on the tree. It's not just the tree that I end up being crazy about. I HAVE to have the living room picked up before we leave because I absolutely hate coming home to a cluttered house. I clean the hall bathroom a few times a day and am on my hands and knees picking up food under the table after most meals. And I have three children. Excuse me, I have three boys.

I've had friends who seem slightly amazed that my house is somewhat tidy. But there is absolutely nothing to be amazed at. See, this brokenness (yes, that's what it is) comes with a price. The cleanliness of my home costs us children who do not finger paint often enough. It is rare that I allow one of my boys to climb up on a stool and help mix batter. And I spend too much of our December preparing our home to look Christmas-y than preparing our hearts to celebrate the amazing miracle of Christ's birth.

 

So, I decided to make a change. I took out the ornaments this year and told myself that I would not rearrange the tree. It would remain however the children decorated it. I did have to move some of the non-breakables down so that the breakables could be up out of the reach of little hands. And we have had to put ornaments back on the tree after they became part of a battle or something. (It is really funny to watch a wise man fight with a shepherd.) I've had relapses where I've gotten onto the 2 year old for taking an ornament down or threatened the 4 year old that the train will go back in the box if he does not stop driving it all over the house. We will be making home made presents with paint and glitter and cut out cookies that will require flour getting all over. I am mentally preparing myself for these things. I am taking deep breaths when I see a battle scene between Santa and a snowman, and am trying to just give a gentle reminder to put them back on the tree when they're done playing.  And this year, when my husband commented on our country bumpkin tree, I noticed the sparkle in his eye and the smile on his face and realized that deep down he loves it. I still defended our little tree, but in a joking tone. I am slowly becoming proud of the wholes and clumped ornaments and our home that is now cluttered  more often than not. It means I am learning to let God control things.

See that is the brokenness of my "OCD". It means I don't have faith in God, but I instead put my trust in myself. I focus on the finite things that don't last, like trying to make my home perfectly clean. And a clean home definitely doesn't last long when there are three boys who live in it. Don't get me wrong, it does not mean that you don't have faith if you have a nice home. I still strive to keep my home clean, but constantly putting cleaning above allowing my children to explore and create and get a little messy is just not good for us. I am realizing that the treasure that I can build with a country bumpkin tree and home made presents that leave glitter everywhere for a month and memories of making cookies together and sticky hand prints are far richer than having a house that looks pretty and orderly.