This time last year Juliet (then 2 years old) and I were living with my parents. I had packed what I could manage into a single car load in ten minutes after an unexpected twist in the road of our lives and driven to my parents' house at 10 pm some random weekday.
My parents had been remodeling their house and let us move into the available space, a 9’ x 8’ unfinished room missing large pieces of linoleum from the floor and nails protruding from the ceiling where a closet had once stood, and a shared dining room full of hardware.
I needed help and they gave it willingly and lovingly.
Christmas came along swiftly and I didn't want our circumstances to rob Juliet of a mother-daughter Christmas experience. Even though my parents decorated and had a tree I wanted to provide our own. Of course there was no room in the 18 inches of walking space available between our beds and books. So I made a floor-to-ceiling felt Christmas tree and hung it on the wall. (I consider this one of my finer parenting moments.) I commissioned family members for help and everyone cut out felt Christmas ornaments for Juliet to hang up.
I snuck into our old house and stole back the six-or-so ornaments that were important to me and hung them from the ceiling using pink and blue ribbon left over from a baby shower (hey, use what you've got).
Christmas was excellent. It was overflowing in love and lacked absolutely nothing. Juliet had a great time! She didn't care that our ornaments were hanging from the ceiling or that her Christmas tree was made of felt. She felt cared for and delighted in. Heck, she was probably the only kid in her class to have all hand-made ornaments!
Fast forward to today. Juliet and I live in a rented house four blocks from my parents. We have our own (real) Christmas tree and our own (not felt) decorations.
But I don’t want to forget that experience. I don’t want to forget what it was like to have to be humble because everything I owned suddenly wasn't mine anymore. I don’t want to forget how being grateful for what I had, rather than envious of what I didn't, gave me the best Christmas I could ever have asked for.
So this year we decorated with items bought at a garage sale. They’re broken and mismatched and too-short and a little kitschy. They are the perfect in-between of have and have-not. My house is a veritable Christmas hodgepodge. And I love it.
My dad helped me hang Garage Sale Christmas lights. My “Merry Christmas” banner is nearly missing an “R” and my six-or-so important ornaments hang proudly from a real tree.
And even though Juliet and I moved out after three months, as I reflect on the last year what I am most thankful for is that protection, space, support and time that continued to last through the year. And the lesson that life doesn't need to look like a magazine cut-out to be soul-quenchingly amazing. Do your best. Ask for help. Be thankful. And give yourself grace because You Are Enough and your kids are cared for and delighted in, and that’s what Christmas (and life) is really about.