It’s Christmas in August over here, loveys. I’m reading a couple of holiday novellas. The other night while Jeff and the bigger kids were backyard camping, I was inside, weeping as I finished reading The Great Christmas Bowl by Susan May Warren. Gosh, this little novella was an emotional upheaval for me. Don’t get me wrong, it was a sweet, family-oriented holiday story and I enjoyed it, but something about the story of a mom who’s coming to grips with the fact that her kids are grown and Christmas will never quite be the same–I was a mess. Maybe because I know it goes fast. Maybe because my youngest sister is getting married in October and I didn’t realize last Christmas was the last one we’d have before she got married. Maybe because I’m a grown-up girl who understands that there comes a point where the Christmases of our youth end.
But the love never does. And that’s where the weeping comes in.
One part stuck in my mind. The mom’s college-aged son mentions that one of his favorite Christmases was one that was less traditional (I think they took a vacation). He said it made him realize that Christmas “isn’t just one way and one place,” that it could follow them wherever they went. What a great truth.
Christmas is my favorite. It’s awesome. But it looks different for different families. I love the thought of mixing it up, not holding our traditions too tightly, so that traditions become the focus and not Jesus.
Super fun, easy read–but you might be weeping at the end!