When Christmas Feels Complicated
Music was part of the air I breathed as a child. Every morning without fail, my mother would select an “album of the day”, and whatever she happened to pick would play quietly for hours, an intangible backdrop to our comings and goings. Christmas was one of my favorite times, when we would listen to John Denver and the Muppets, or Michael Crawford, Nat King Cole… I’ll stop before I get carried away in nostalgia… The point being, the songs from my childhood seem like they’re ingrained in my DNA at this point, and sharing them with my kids is one of my favorite parts of being a mom. But songs that I once belted with great gusto seem to get stuck in my throat when I remember that not all of us find joy in Christmas hymns anymore. What do you do when something you love isn’t shared by someone you love?
One of the ongoing conundrums of all marriages— not just the mixed-faith variety— is finding ways to be a couple, while also maintaining your individuality. But you will notice this problem showing up in unexpected ways as you lean into your different faiths. Christmas music didn’t feel like a “me” thing until Adam left the church, and it was hard letting go of the “us” version I had pictured in my head. I thought we would have decades of Christmases where we all sang around the tree like little Whos, and blasted “Angels We Have Heard on High” like we were at a rock concert. But alas, some of our early Christmases together had me feeling like I needed to go listen quietly in a corner with the door shut so as not to disturb the local atheist. And honestly, it hurt.
No one enjoys feeling like they have to hide part of themselves from someone they love. But if you find yourself, like me, feeling embarrassed to take up space in your own home, I want to offer the flip side of this coin. For every “Away in a Manger”, there were five Sunday school lessons where Adam couldn’t say what was on his mind. And for every “Silent Night,” there was the fear that his family would reject him if they actually understood him. My Christmas music drama now seems like a small price to pay for that insight into Adam’s world. It helped me realize that no one likes to feel smothered, and home doesn’t really feel like home unless you can be yourself while you’re there.
If celebrating Christmas feels complicated, use it as a chance to understand your spouse. Chances are, they’re hurting too. Have an honest conversation with them where your only job is to listen, don’t make it a time where you’re on the defensive. If you’re not sure how to begin, here are five questions to get you started:
What is Christmas like for you now?
What family traditions do you still enjoy?
Are there any that are hard for you?
What would help you feel supported right now?
What do you hope Christmas will look like for our family?
Give them a chance to open up. Resist the urge to correct them and tell them why your way is the right way. If they’re talking about something for the first time, chances are they just need to be heard. There will be another time to dive in and start solving the problem together, but give them the gift of listening first.
And in case you’re wondering, yes, I still play my Christmas music every December. But it’s worth remembering that Jesus shows up in my life in many many ways, and music is just one; Adam is another. And the way Adam feels in our home matters to me. So there’s a little less Christmas music on my end than I once imagined, and that’s ok. I think what I lost in airtime I gained in empathy, and if Jesus really is at the heart of my Christmas, I think he would agree that it was a worthwhile trade.
