The Gilmore Book Club

 How To Have A Perfect Christmas Without Being Perfect- Maybe Christmas Doesn’t Come From A Store

If there’s one thing I’m certain of in this world, it’s my love for Christmas. Like, I may have been Mrs. Claus in a past life, kind of love. By June or July each year, I start listening to Christmas music because I can’t stand to be without it anymore. By late September and early October, I decide to ignore the actual time of year and any of its holidays and simply consider it as Christmastime. I start buying presents, I watch Hallmark and Lifetime movies, and I put up all of my decorations (besides the tree because my cat likes to attack it). And when everyone is stressing out about all the activities on their to-do list and complaining about the weather, I’m happily strolling through the snow, humming Christmas carols.

I’ve always loved Christmas- more than any other time of the year, even my own birthday. There’s magic in softly falling snow, in the way the scents of peppermint and evergreen fill the air, and in the way a cup of hot chocolate seems to wrap you up in a hug with the first sip. And the most magical of all, the way twinkling lights on a Christmas tree can chip away at the mountains of coal in our minds, brought to us by our daily worries and life’s seemingly endless difficulties. I wish that every day had that kind of magic.

My family knows how important this holiday is to me. They roll their eyes and shake their heads when I continue to get up at 5am every year to open my stocking. It happened once when I was young, and I’ve continued the tradition ever since. But with the exception of listening to Christmas music before Thanksgiving, they mostly let me do my thing, you know, as long as it doesn’t include them until December.

The Grinch, however, would rather not be included in Christmas at all. In fact, he despises it. And he stands up on his mountain, sending hate vibes at the residents of Whoville and at Christmas itself.  He hates the toys, he hates the noise, he hates the food, and the holiday mood. And the only thing he can think of to stop it, is to steal Christmas. So, with the help of his dog-turned-reindeer, Max, the Grinch goes to Whoville and takes everything. He takes the presents and the wreaths, all the stockings and the Christmas trees.

But the Whos go about their Christmas-loving ways, and so do I. But my love for Christmas does cause other reactions, and not just from the people who are looking at me like I’m crazy for playing Christmas carols in June. Because I love it so much, I expect a lot from the Christmas season, and while some are reasonable, others are more, well, today we’d call them a bit extra. I hold very tightly to traditions, to baking several types of cookies, to strolling through holiday markets, to watching the Nutcracker, to getting calendars and sugared cereal as presents every year. Forsaking these traditions pains me more than not getting everything on my Christmas list. I even have very strong opinions about everything from the color of the lights on the tree to how its decorated. To me, this is all part of the fun of Christmas because I genuinely like decorating trees and picking out holiday cards, but to other people, it’s a major cause of stress. To other people, it’s a time when they have to be perfect. They have to find the perfect presents, bake the perfect cookies, and open those perfect presents under a perfect Christmas tree wearing perfectly adorable yet somehow chic Christmas pajamas. Basically, an Instagram prefect Christmas. People have been feeling this way long before “doing it for the ‘Gram” was even a thing. And people like me, people obsessed with Christmas, can sometimes add to that pressure, simply because the people who love us want to please us and want us to have great experiences with the things and people we love. So what do we do about that?

For me, the answer came in the form of a Christmas cookie.

 There was a Christmas cookie-decoration class this October, so of course, I immediately signed up. And I was thrilled. I studiously watched the demonstrator as she explained the different icings. I carefully recreated her icing patterns to achieve more foliage-looking texture on my Christmas tree and painstakingly draped it with snowy icing garlands. With a few sprinklings of pearly white sprinkles, my tree was finally ready. And it was perfect. So perfect, I knew I had to preserve it so I could take it home and photograph it with my How The Grinch Store Christmas! book for my Instagram page. Carefully tucked away in my pastry box, the tree safely made it several blocks to the bookstore where I had to pick up a book. I expertly balanced that box in my arms while skimming through shelves and flipping through pages and set it gently to rest on the counter as I was paying for my purchases. And then it happened, in what felt like slow motion, but was too fast for me to stop it. The cashier grabbed the box with such force, that the cookies inside went flying and smashed against each other and the top of the box. My perfect cookie was ruined, I just knew it. It was an innocent mistake, but still, I was crestfallen. My perfect cookie was no more. I arrived back at home and was almost too heartbroken to take a peek at what I knew would be cookie crumbles. Sure enough, the left side of the tree had been smushed, skewing the garland and jettisoning the ornaments. Absolutely ruined.  

Yes, I would not cry boo-hoo, for that’s not what Whos do.

Whos sing, even when all their presents and decorations have been stolen. The Grinch takes all of their Christmas things and is about to dump it all off the side of a mountain when he hears the voices of the Whos joined in song. And the sounds of merriment, joy, and love, despite all that has been stolen, changes what the Grinch believes about Christmas.

And my inner-Who wanted to cry out Boo-hoo.

But I remembered the Grinch, and the song of the Whos,

and I thought to myself, this is what I do.

I focus on the perfect, the impeccable, the flawless

During a season of love

How could I be so thoughtless

To ignore the love that went into that treat?

For making something delicious is no small feat

I should savor the baking, the decorations, the tree

for a new definition of perfect

I vowed I would always believe.

Whos celebrate the true meaning of Christmas: love. And to me, that’s a perfect way to celebrate Christmas- or any day.

So, I’m deciding to change the definition of ‘perfect’. I’d like for it to describe something filled with love. A perfect day, the perfect cookie, the perfect Christmas- as long as love is a part of it. I made that cookie with love, so it’s the perfect cookie, and I’m going to put it on my Instagram just like I planned. And Christmas this year is going to be perfect too. I’m sure things will go awry- maybe I’ll be so tired I’ll have to go back to bed pretty soon after waking up- there’s always a good chance of that with a chronic illness. And it won’t be a white Christmas; it will be sunny and 65, which means it will be to hot to make a cozy fire in the fireplace, or even too hot for hot chocolate! But I’ll be with my family, exchanging gifts that we all lovingly researched, purchased, and wrapped to put under the tree. We’ll be eating food we love and spending time with people we love. And for those whom I can’t be with on that day, I’ve carefully chosen and written Christmas cards or sent little gifts- all done in the name of Christmas, in the name of love.

Perfect days and perfect things come around so rarely, that we often believe they don’t exist, but if we just change our definition of perfect, there will be plenty of perfect in the days ahead.