Where are You, Christmas?

Truth be told, I'm not sure how I feel about the Christmas holiday anymore.  The older I get, the less enchanted it becomes, although I do have the opportunity to view it through the eyes of my children.  My house is never the way I envision it, although some may say I have too high a standard...I may never make it to magazine worthy decor.  I wouldn't say that my standards are high, but it never quite measures up to how I remember Christmas.

Growing up, I had a spectacular Christmas experience.  The lights were strung along the house, the tree emblazoned with the silk bulbs from the early 1970's.  Pink and red if I recall correctly.  The garland that adorned our tree was what we may call tacky today, but in my mind it was grand.  Plastic candies of all colors, peppermint swirls, candy canes, all encrusted with the fake sugar that would bush off to the carpet and cause a fine mess.  It was divine.  Peanut Blossom cookies, hot cocoa, snowmen, Christmas music on the record player all meant the holiday was fast approaching.

The anticipation of the holiday was almost more of a treat than Christmas day.  I recall the festive traditions, the family Christmas party, where I always played Mary in the live Nativity because I was the only girl.  Singing Christmas carols and learning to play them on the piano were staples of my childhood. For a time, my family lived away from extended relatives, yet the same traditions continued.  A program on Christmas eve, my brothers and I performing for my parents, where we learned the lyrics of Silver Bells, and my father read the story of Christ's birth from the book of Luke.

Now, it's a constant battle to regain those precious feelings of the holidays.  I can't explain it, but I feel as if a part of my soul is missing.  I don't know who I am without this part of me.  There are many that don't understand this facet of my makeup, but it is as important to me as the beating of my own heart, but one that has gone missing for a very long time.

Tonight we decorated the tree.  It is lit with white lights, red balls, and a snowflake or two.  Although my children and I worked together, I felt very little joy in their excitement, although I was happy for them, for making a memory.  My smile was forced and my throat tight as I reminisced about doing the same thing, but with a happy heart as a child. Is this what it means to get older?  To loose the spirit of Christmas?  If so, is it too late to run back into my childhood?  I want to feel the wild abandon of my son as he places the glass balls on various limbs, or the thrill that shoots through my daughter when she steps back to survey her work.  I miss it.

Time is short, but it really hasn't changed from when I was a child, so that really can't be an excuse, though it is one I fall back on a little too readily.  Am I pulled in too many directions, that I don't take time to really think on the true meaning?

I am forcing myself through the motions.  I pray that at some point in the next 25 days, my heart will find Christmas, for my children, but if truth be told, for me as well.

What do you do to get into the Christmas Spirit? Help is needed!