For little kids, Christmas just shows up. All you have to do is tell Santa your wish, gobble your favorite foods, and tackle a pile of gifts in bright wrappings. Your stocking hangs above the fireplace, bulging with oranges, chocolate and a new toothbrush. Pretty nice deal.

 

But for grown ups, Christmas takes a lot of preparation. I spent the better part of December hunting down addresses, and delivering small tokens of appreciation. I ordered online, mailed packages, cleaned with increased vigor, and thought mindfully about two hundred people I love. 

 

Some would call it stressful.

 

Yet if we can untangle the string of bright efforts, it is mostly comprised of things I like to do. I care for all the people I send cards to. Remembering them is a pleasure, if I hold it that way.  I enjoy peppermint bark and clementines. Hiking to the store is simply part of the process of getting them in the house.  The nostalgia of the tree warms my heart too. Although I am not excited about vacuuming per se, I do relish the effect. 

 

Sometimes it may look as if the kids have the better deal. No effort, big payout. But that is more of a mirage than the mannequins at Macy's. 

 

As my older kids have transitioned to givers as well as receivers, their excitement crescendoed. They are more invested in what they put under the tree than what they open. That goes a long way to filling in the gaps created by shirts the wrong size, or a duplicate pair of mittens. If our main plot is to ignite a smile on someone else, our chances of success grow. 

 

Marriage can look like a tangled string of lights. I need you to fix the dryer. I expect you to shovel the snow. I will be disappointed if you forget my favorite kind of socks. Those actions, successfully completed,  may light me up like a little white bulb. The cord that connects them is less obvious.  That reminds me of the string of efforts to create a memorable day for the people around us.