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A different December

If we make it through December

Everything’s gonna be alright, I know

It’s the coldest time of winter

And I shiver when I see the falling snow

— Merle Haggard

“If We Make It Through December” by Merle Haggard has all the elements of a classic country song: a melancholy story of a father who has been laid off at Christmas lightened by just a bit of hope. It’s got the strings and a bit of twang. And it was our theme song during our early years of marriage.

The irony is that we didn’t like country music, but the dollar store had a CD of country Christmas music in its bins, and it was what we could afford. And so, Merle Haggard, Willie Nelson and Johnny Cash echoed through our cabin for the month between Thanksgiving and Christmas.

Bill and I talked about this time the other day. We were broke but we didn’t really know how poor we were. Our Christmas ornaments were scavenged pinecones adorned with lace and wire. Broken Mardi Gras beads formed the garland on our tree. The tree itself was a green bottle scrubber special, bought on clearance from Ames. Each limb had to be spread and then placed into a hole in the trunk. Of course, two of the holes were misdrilled, so there was an odd droop on one side. Maybe if you were legally blind the tree would appear to be lifelike, but I wouldn’t bet on it.

Paper grocery bags were flattened and painted to make gift wrapping. (My family teased me, thinking this crafting resulted from my tree-hugging tendencies. Little did they know that the truth was we needed to save every dollar we could). Even our stockings were fashioned out of material scraps. But you know what? It was Christmas and the creativity our pennilessness forced upon us made it more special.

When we had kids, “if we make it through December” took on a whole new meaning. Crazy schedules, sugar extravaganzas, and self-imposed covert operations were joyful but chaotic. The culmination of these years was trying not to giggle, fall, or wet our pants when placing presents under the Christmas tree when all three of our children were sleeping there. We were successful in helping the Big Red Guy out, but there were some close calls. As tired as we were and as stressful as this was, it was Christmas.

And this year was the first time decorating without any of the kids at home. What began as a wistful “if I make it through December,” turned into an act of defiance. Just because the nest was empty didn’t mean the spirit of the season needed to be sacrificed. Our lights went up earlier, some of the old decorations were refreshed, and I could wrap presents in the living room while indulging in sappy holiday movies. Sure, vacuum cleaners, windshield wipers, and other practical gifts have replaced toys, but there is a certain joy in gifting practical items that young adults don’t want to spend their money on. Let’s face it: even gift-giving has always been about the exchange of love, not actual presents, anyway.

Dr. Cook once told me not to mourn the inevitable fact that children grow up. “Each age,” he told me, “has something special about it. Enjoy them as they are now, don’t wish for the past.” So, while I, like many people, may mourn the passing of Dr. Cook, I try to follow his sage advice by enjoying my children as they are.

So, this year it is different; my kids are adults. There wasn’t a family skirmish during the holiday card photo shoot. On Christmas Eve when everyone is tired, they will go to bed, without argument. And at 4 a.m. Christmas morning, we’ll be asleep, not opening stockings. While all these things are just fond memories, what hasn’t changed is that we love our family, we can’t wait to see them, and it’s Christmas.

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