♫ It’s the most wonderful time of the year… ♪ It’s the happ–iest season of alllllll… ♪
I was baking cookies and making fudge last night while listening from time to time to the music in the background. I think that song came on a half dozen times and I got to thinking about some of the words to that song and then to another: I’ll be home for Christmas… You can count on me… I’ll be home for Christmas… if on-ly ♪ in my dreams. My cynical side piped in: O, yes, you can *count on me!* -if only in my dreams. What a definite, sure: maybe.
As the night went on and I continued to make and bake and stir and pour, I thought of the different songs… the different sentiments… hundreds of memories and, O, yes… the job at hand. I thought about that first song. “It’s the most wonderful time of the year…” and thought, well, yes and the most dangerous one, too. It’s the time of year we all read the ads and see not so much what we think we want, but all the glamour and abundance reminds us of our lack and then occasionally our “meet-my-wants, feed-my-(perceived)-needs” engine get revved up and our dissatisfaction mode takes over and it’s no longer the ♫ “hap-happiest time of the year!” I’m re-reminded that we need to guard our minds (2Corinthians 10.5), guard our heart and thoughts. This hap-piest time of the year can also be the most dangerous to the mind, dangerous to the eyes, and certainly most dangerous to the thighs.
I allowed myself a taste of each thing I was making—not each phase of the making and baking, but a taste of the product. I knew that a taste could lead to a few and a few could lead to a dish and a dish could lead to a bowl and a bowl could lead to a few more. So, a taste. And then the items had to be double wrapped and put away. Some mommy’s put stuff away so the children don’t sneak snatches of treats. This mommy puts stuff away so the mommy doesn’t sneak snatches of treats. Isn’t it funny how we think we’re “sneaking” a treat. We think no one will know or notice. But they have eyes! And we have mirrors and scales. Sneaking treats? No matter what it seems, it’s not possible to keep that hidden. I think of 2Timothy3.6 Some indulgences in life cannot be hidden — even black dresses don’t hide overindulgence.
O, so… ♫ I’ll be home for Christmas… I was thinking about that again this morning and am determined today to miss the days for the what was or what should have been’s. I want to make home be home for Christmas. I want to make sure everyone’s glad to be home and that the days, tastes, sights, sounds and thoughts will be sweet. Especially mama’s. Sort of the “Be here now” motto and not allow myself the sinful luxury of being somewhere else or doing things because other people do them or in ways I think might seem best to others. Instead… I’ll be home for Christmas… really.
