As a kid, December 26 was one of the saddest days of the year. The giddy anticipation of post-Thanksgiving yuletide culminated in the biggest day of the year– Christmas, December 25. It was a riotous day of feasting and tearing open presents and driving from one family’s house to the next. But on December 26 it was all over. By New Year’s the Christmas décor was coming down. At that point, school loomed ahead and January was usually wet, cold and dreary where I lived.
Imagine my delight at discovering that Christmas is officially 12 days (and, what do you know, the song “The 12 Days of Christmas” was not just endless jibberish made up by drunken peasants), and can be justifiably stretched to the feast of the Baptism (the Sunday after Epiphany) and even the Presentation (February 2). Maybe it’s the naughty inner child in me who enjoys defiance, but I like that our Christmas tree still lights up the front window long after people have been chucking their trees to the side of the road. When our kids were all little, it was easy to ignore that the world had moved on to new-year resolutions and Valentine’s candy (what’s up with that??) and keep the grace of Christmas present in the home. This year was the first year that I felt a little tug-of-war with life.
We always cap off the 12 days with an Epiphany feast. We have three movable Wisemen figures that, since Christmas Eve, have been moving around the house and arrive at the stable on January 6. We sing, we feast, it’s great. But this year the Epiphany was on a Monday. We had to slip in our family feast between one child returning from the orthodontist, and another child heading to an audition. In the morning while I wondered how I was going to home school my little ones and get this midday dinner prepared, I thought, Maybe I shouldn’t force this. I don’t want my kids to associate feast days as fun-datory family time. As I was pondering this, my 9-year-old jumped in and excitedly offered to help. It was a little hurried, a little rushed, but still a lovely time. And as I watched our three-year-old and four-year-old process with the Wisemen to the stable, I remembered how important it is to keep feasting so they can experience the liturgical year the way our older kids have. My older kids, even though their own lives are heavily on their minds, were present and took part.
As my kids grow up and begin their own lives in a world that runs on its own time, I want them to think of the Christmas season as it was meant to be, and to ease into January with joy, hope, and peace.