Like the small voice of Cindy-Lou Hoo asking "Why, Santa?" I and so many parents fight a lopsided battle against the consumerism and commercialism of the Christmas Holiday. We all remember that iconic story where the Grinch steals "The Stuff" and it doesn't matter--Christmas comes anyhow, and they sing and hold hands and share the love. That sentiment really does hold true for most of us during the gifty winter holidays--it's the sharing and togetherness that is
the richness. But reigning in the desire is another thing altogether. Everyday in the mail a pile of catalogs arrive: the same company (and its sister companies) sends some publication
every other day. The kids see the direct advertisements with X-ray vision when I pull the stack of mail out of our box, and immediately ask to look at them. I'll admit, handing them back for them to peruse buys me 3 minutes of silence between the mail box and our house. But like the night in winter, the children's toy want lists grow longer. Most of the catalogs we receive (in spite of multiple calls to various companies to cancel them, requesting that I be taken off mailing lists, etc.) have lovely natural toys, mostly made in the USA. I am okay with most of what they see, though they all create a false sense of need. But a couple sneak through that show behemoth plastic multi-storied castles, rockets, dinosaur villages. Even if I were inclined to buy these, we just would not have the room in our house. As it is, I need to go through the boys' toys ASAP (all three of them share one room with toys and art and stuff for all three age ranges crammed into storage shelving in like an overstuffed pillow) and share some boy toy love (not that kind, ahem).
One way I keep the meaning of the season forefront is with the celebration of Advent. This is something I've only started doing in the past few years, but it is a wonderful way to bring to life the stories (and I do include all of them--its a great opportunity for a comparative review of the world's religions) of this season and honor the solstice. It is a time of quiet anticipation, preparation, waiting. Of course, it's mostly about the birth of Jesus, and we really have fun with it, celebrating little traditions the boys talk about all year long. And we talk a lot about Jesus in his many contexts. Most of our celebrations mirror those going on in the boys' Waldorf-inspired school, and the first thing to come is the Advent wreath. It is simple--I just arranged ours on the kitchen table with some greens and five candles; each of the four candles is to be lit on the four Sundays of Advent and the center one is for Christmas Day. We light the first candle (I'll admit we were slightly late this year, still recovering from Turkey Day goings-on) and sing a few sweet little songs and talk about what is to come. The first light of Advent is a time to think about the stones in our world--shells, minerals, bones, crystals. All of that first week, I put one special little treasure in their advent stockings along that theme. I set up the Creche on a separate table, starting with just the stable, and we add daily to the display with the little advent surprises. Boys love rocks--they really like the first week. Our advent "calendar" is a collection of 24 little stockings on a rope--a fun preview of the larger holiday to come. Each week we move "up" the scale of complexity: the second week is the light of the plants, the third week the light of the animals, and the fourth week the light of the people. I put corresponding gifts (recycled from year to year-nothing fancy) in the stocking--a little wooden heart, a piece of petrified wood, some juniper berries; then little wooden animals; then little people, all of which go over to the manger scene. Occasionally I'll be a fun mom and throw in a little chocolate coin or ball. By the time it's Christmas, the Creche is full of stones, crystals, moss, evergreens, leaves, animals, and people awaiting the rival of the wee baby.
Okay. I have to make a little confession: I almost put all of our stuff away the first day of advent because the older boys were fighting incessantly about who got what and when and all of that annoying stuff siblings fight about. In anticipation of this, I had even planned it out ahead of time how it would go down in what I thought was a fair manner...but you know what happens to the best laid plans. Ooh, was I mad. I lectured them about how this was all supposed to be fun, reminded them of the "true meaning" of the season. Blah blah blah. Fortunately we all calmed down by the next day, and they are taking turns and playing nice. I don't think making threats really goes along with the various messages of the season...but who's perfect?
Back to the story: the folks at the left here are Mary, Joseph and the Donkey. This is one of the boys' favorite traditions. They start out on their journey to the manger at the beginning of Advent. I put the figures far away from their ultimate destination and each night they travel just a little on their way--the kids love to seek them out the next morning. Some nights I forget to move them, and then have to
make up explain that they just needed a rest day or a shopping day. She is pregnant after all and it's hard to do anything in that state. And then one year the cleaning lady took them home--
supposedly on accident. I'm not sure what you'd want to do with 3 very small wooden figurines like these, but she says they were on a windowsill and somehow they got in her cloth and she took them home and they went through the wash. When they went missing did we ever have a panic. My oldest one was concerned to the point of obsession. I made up all kinds of stories about their travels--they had taken a
very big detour. Thankfully they made it back in time for her to give birth to the Lord right on schedule.
In honoring the quietness of Advent, bringing more light with each successive week as we approach the very darkest time of the year, and focusing in on the very basic elements of our environment, we can push away the overwhelming messages of unbridled consumption that come with Christmas. My son's preschool does this in a most beautiful way, from the messages the teachers give, to the small surprises of Advent, to the presence of St. Nicolaus. He comes not to ask the children what they want, but to recognize their strengths and encourage them to work on their not so strong points. I witnessed this a few years ago when I very first visited the school, as a volunteer/good sport white-bearded man in a shabby red velvet suit with a beggar by his side (the real story of St. Nick) and a big special book spoke knowingly to each child in the class and offered a small gift--a golden walnut representing the hardship of life (getting into the nut) as well as the rewards for hard work (the nut meat). The children were entranced; it was pure magic.
This year, several of the moms in our class worked together to make this most beautiful felted woolen Advent calendar with pockets for little goodies--wee gnomes that appear one by one each day. It's beautiful--a work of art. The tapestry is brilliantly colored with strong tree roots at the bottom, a many-branched evergreen, and the majestic winter sun atop it all.
Winter has fully hit us here with extreme cold and a gorgeous, clean white covering of snow. The icicles hanging from the roof glisten in the morning sun. We're settling into the countdown of Advent (we've all calmed down, and are taking turns and playing nice...mostly...at least with the Advent calendar), especially now that it looks like Christmas. Tonight we get to light candles and place them in a spiral made of pine boughs followed by cookies and warm drinks at the school's Advent Spiral celebration. I'm making biscochitos as we speak. And though the catalogs are coming at lightening speed and voluminous quantity in the peak of shopping season, we can come home, build a fire (perhaps with the catalogs?), quiet down, light a candle and play with some rocks. And, you know, be together while it's -4 degrees outside. Because along with giving and sharing and kind deeds, that's
really what the season's all about: figuring out how to live together inside while it's really cold and dark.
