If you’re too busy to make love to your husband, you’re busier than God ever intended you to be.
Darlene Schact, Messy Beautiful Love
Hi, friend. How are you doing? We’re almost half way through Advent, and I know you have a lot to do. Like, so much you’re skimming this. I won’t take it personally, I promise. I’ve been finding myself rushing through everything, even my devotions, slowing myself down even in the s l o w d o w n. It’s that time of year. So please don’t throw your iPad or phone or computer when you read this today, because I really do have your best interest at heart, okay?
Please start by playing this song:
I’ve been thinking lately about how un-romantic Christmas has become at this stage of life. When we were dating, Christmas burgeoned ripe with romance. Jack and I were desperate to spend just one moment alone during that time, and the only time we could finagle from our families’ saturated schedules was an early morning meeting on Christmas Eve. I packed a beautiful picnic basket full of warm cinnamon rolls, my mother’s famous Christmas cookies, clementines, and sparkling cider and met my teenaged love outside on the driveway at 7am, after he had already driven 40 minutes to pick me up. He ran around to help me in the car before I could open the door of his champagne Ford Tempo, hugged and kissed me as if i were the only oxygen he’d been able to breathe in days, and drove me to our very favorite spot at the Gig Harbor Park.
We lit a fire in the barbecue under the covered picnic area and laid a blanket out on the concrete, shivering in our coats, but cherishing every minute. We gave each other small gifts afforded from extra jobs for our parents, and dreamed about a time when we would wake up and not have to leave each other on Christmas morning: in our own house, with our own Christmas tree . . .
Our time would end, and he would drive me back home. I would cry as I kissed him goodbye, and dream of a Christmas when we would share a last name. All of Christmas break, I would dance around the kitchen, pirouetting (awkwardly) in my pajama pants to Nancy Wilson’s What I Want for Christmas.
But what happened? I mean, I loooovvvee my husband to death. But it seems like the minute we were engaged, Christmas became about EVERYTHING else besides the reason we got married in the first place: TO BE TOGETHER. We have celebrated many Christmases where we gave everyone else a gift but didn’t give each other gifts because money was so tight. We’ve rushed midnights from one family to the other; we’ve woken up on Christmas morning surrounded by people, but not connected to each other. The lights and the wrapping paper and the baking and the people-pleasing have filled our Christmases to the brim while sucking our marriage dry of romance.
But where’s the give? I know what you’re saying right now:
We’ll upset the apple cart if we insist on being Mr. and Mrs. on Christmas Eve and/or Christmas morning, if we don’t perform that adrenaline-filled routine of five Christmases in two days. They will burn our house to the ground if gosh-darnit we just don’t want to travel that far, that night!
And what I have realized, in all of my pushing my family through one door and out another, is that the people I work all month to celebrate Christmas with–Jack and the boys–are always the ones I end up yelling at, snipping at, barking at, as we scurry to fulfill another obligation on the day I once dreamed would be about snuggling them in front of the fire.
That’s not why I got married, my friend: to spend the most holy days of the year running from place to place, Pleasing.
So, Mrs. Claus, what are we going to do about it?
Well, I’m putting romance back in my Christmas. I’m making time this Christmas to actually have a moment with my husband, to be his wife instead of just hostess, stocking-stuffer, dish-cleaner, party planner. I’m going to shop for something red in the lingerie department (I have found some of my favorites at TJMaxx for under 20 bucks!). One of my cousins–she shall go nameless–has been rumored to wear a Mrs. Claus outfit on Christmas Eve. Maybe? How cute!
So what if you just take your family home a little earlier than usual on Christmas Eve? What if Santa turns around from putting that toy together, and you’re standing there in a new nightgown, with something sparkly in hand to toast this life you have built together, these stockings that hang with names that only exist because of your love for each other? What if you turn on some sexy Christmas music, and dance (or whatever! You’re married!) in front of the Christmas tree?
What if you still please everybody, but show up a little later and take a “nap” after brunch on Christmas day?
What if we actually stop to live this beautiful life, fulfill a few daydreams, and remember why we’re doing all of this in the first place?
There’s no better present for Mr. Claus than some lovin’. Just sayin’.
So, friends, take a deep breath with me.
Lord, we are so grateful to live out our lives as wives and mothers. Help us to slow down and realize that the only One we need to please this Christmas is You, and that Your will is for us to love our husbands and our families as our first ministry and deepest joy. Bless our hard work and service this Christmas, and please help us to see where we can carve time for romance into this Christmas season. We ask that Your Son’s birthday will be an opportunity for renewal in our hearts and marriages this year. Amen.
Go get him, Mrs. Claus. You’ve got this:).
Mrs. Jack Arthur Claus,
Here’s some sexy Christmas music to get you in the mood: