Reclaim the Quiet of Advent

Does your schedule in December look more like a battle plan than a family calendar? Does the thought of all the expectations of the holiday season fill you with dread rather than delight? With concerts, parties, family events, church activities, decorating, shopping, baking, wrapping, the season of Advent might seem more like a marathon to-do list than a time of wonder and reflection. What you need is to reclaim the quiet of Advent.

My life was like that. I married into a family that had three different Christmas celebrations. Add in our new family’s memory-making activities and spending time with my side of the family, and we had five Christmases to schedule, prepare, shop for, and cook for—and then travel to with small children over icy winter roads, loaded down with presents and food and other people’s expectations.

Friends, that load became too heavy to bear.

One year, as I read the familiar Christmas story, verses jumped out at me, verses I had glossed over for years. In the first chapter of Luke, Mary’s cousin, Elizabeth, becomes pregnant with the future John the Baptist. Rather than scurry around cleaning and preparing for this first child in her advanced age, she retreats. She rests: “Soon afterward [Zacharias’] wife, Elizabeth, became pregnant and went into seclusion for five months” (Luke 1:24 NLT).

Mary becomes pregnant and goes to visit Elizabeth, joining her retreat: “Mary stayed with Elizabeth about three months and then went back to her own home” (Luke 1:56 NLT).

The actions of these two women were a call to me. In preparation for the coming Savior, they didn’t run themselves ragged fulfilling the equivalent of every Pinterest-inspired expectation. Instead, they spent time away. They spent time in quiet, I imagine in prayer and worship for the miracles each of them were carrying.

These women inspired me to reclaim the quiet in my Advent.

I can hear your sputtered protestations:

“But Annie, you don’t know my mother-in-law. We could never…”

“We just have to be a part of the children’s choir and program and caroling and cookie decorating at the church.”

“Everybody is expecting us to ______!”

I said the same thing to myself, friends. But I knew I didn’t like the person I became in December. The Allies storming the beaches of Normandy were less prepared than I was. Armed with my battle plan, we were going to make memories and have a Merry Christmas, dammit! Now put a smile on your face and get in the car!

My first step to reclaim the quiet was to dream about the perfect Advent and Christmas season for our family. In talking to my husband and children, we discovered that none of us liked rushing around to everybody else’s version of Christmas. The perfect Christmas for us was practically the opposite of what we had been doing. We had been so busy fulfilling everyone else’s expectation of Christmas that we had no sense of celebration left, not to mention none of the quiet reflection and worship of Mary and Elizabeth.

Radical change was necessary. We said polite no-thank-yous to the church caroling and children’s Christmas programs. We invited family to our home instead of traveling to all of them. And guess what? Hardly any of them came because they didn’t want to travel, either! Now, a cheery “Merry Christmas” phone call or video chat is all we do. We gather at other times of the year when travel is easier and less hectic.

I used to cook a big dinner on Christmas Eve: ham from one of our pigs, homemade cheese buttons, butterhorns, salad, green bean casserole, and pies. I slaved away in the kitchen preparing and then cooking the feast. I was tired and grumpy by the time we sat down.Changing our big meal was at the top of my Advent makeover list.

Christmas Eve is now a buffet of appetizers that is open all day. We open our family gifts after chores in the morning and spend the whole day in our new Christmas pajamas, playing games, reading new books, and enjoying each other. Each person nominates their favorite appetizer or two and then helps with the work of making them. Long gone are the hours I spent alone in the kitchen.

We also simplified gift-giving. We give our kids only four gifts: something to wear, something they need, something they want, and something to read. The kids make a list of what they would like in these categories in October. I have made it my goal to be done shopping before Thanksgiving. I do not have to worry about shipping delays or last-minute impulse buys. For our friends, we do a homemade or home-baked gift. It is easy to give everyone the same thing, and the kids help make, bake, decorate, and deliver the simple brown lunch bags we put them in.

Another idea is to make a donation to a nonprofit you love, and send a card telling your recipient what you did in their name. A friend of mine does this every year, and I love seeing a gift that keeps giving.

The definition of Advent is “a coming into place, view, or being.” For Mary and Elizabeth, the time they spent away allowed them to prepare for the coming miracle. We celebrate the season of Advent, not as a time to complete a list, but to prepare our hearts. And in order to do that well, we must reclaim the quiet.

You can make the time and space to be blessed by this Advent season. Just say no.

Annie Carlson is rooted like a turnip to the plains of North Dakota where she raises great food, large numbers of farm animals, and three free-range kids with her husband. You can find her with either a book or knitting needles in her hands as she dreams up her next adventure.

Photograph © Annie Spratt, used with permission