Christmas Panic

At some point during the run up to every Christmas I wake in a cold sweat, having palpitations and feeling nauseous about being behind with the preparations for this family celebration.

The Christmas-Induced Panic seems to be worse this year. I really *am* behind. We have less money to spend than for a long, long time and less time available to organise things. We've been so involved with church music necessities that we've just not had the time to figure out some pretty basic family stuff.

It's always a low time of year for me anyway, this run-up to Christmas. This must result from the years spent with my family of origin for whom it was an excuse for harrowing rows, slamming doors, dramatic exits, shattering glass.

I also have very bad memories of 16 years ago when I was expecting Grace and her twin brother Alec. We'd just been given the news that Alec was seriously ill and might not make it. We were spending the time with my family. My father never mentioned a word about our ongoing tragedy, just sat buried in the paper while my sister and I cooked. My mother talked about death ALL through the meal. She was working in a home for the elderly and she told us all about the deaths she'd recently witnessed. My sister's oven broke half-way through cooking the turkey and my other sister engineered a blazing row after dinner so that she could storm off and not do the washing up. My brothers just drank quietly in corners, hoping no one would notice them.

Jamie and I washed up the dishes. I had a stinking cold and I was heavily pregnant with twins, one of whom was probably dying. I remember thinking, this will be the last time I spend Christmas with this family, (we were emigrating to Canada the following year) and being hugely relieved.

Phew!
That was a close thing! I've been uspet, for the last few days, that we are going to be on our own again this Christmas, just me, Jamie and the kids. No grandpaprents, or aunts or uncles or cousins, like other people, to share the joy with. Recounting our last family Christmas, just now, has helped me to remember how awful it was and that now we are free to concentrate on making happy memories for OUR children!

Back to the panic.
It feels like a huge responsibility MAKING Christmas happen. I want everyone to be happy. It feels as though it's my responsibility to make SURE everyone is happy. {g} And I start to thinking, 'What if I can't pull it off this year?'

Right now, I have *another* list as long as my arm. I've finished all my book jobs today, tidied up, sent Jamie off to get a tree with Jack. We are driving to Chesham to spend the rest of the day with friends, which I know will be good, but I have several gifts to pick up along the way. I don't know when we are going to decorate this tree. I just hope it is in time for Christmas Day! Aaargh! I can hear Grace upstairs, singing Away In A Manger.

And I think,
This is not why Jesus came.
To give me panic attacks.
And lists.

So I would feel sick
and hopelessly inadequate
as a mother and wife.

He came to RESCUE me.
To show me love.

To take the heavy
burden from my back
and give me His,
which is light
and easy.

To lift me up
and
turn my face
towards the light.

If I will let Him.