My mom is the epitome of joy. She taught us to live joyfully. It was all we knew of childhood.
A relationship with Jesus, a heart full of gratitude, a spirit of contentment, and happiness in the little things–it was the way of life. I never knew my mom was fascilitaing anything other than the ordinary.
And then I became a mother. Hold. The. Phone.
For years, I have boldly claimed the word joy.
“Joy’s my favorite! It’s my thing!” I often say. “It’s my very favorite word!” All true.
Day after day, I choose happy. Beyond that, I choose joy in Jesus. I don’t know if it comes as naturally to me as it did my mom. Did she wake up with these headaches? Was she tired to her bones? (That’s my newest phrase.) Did we drive her bananas at times? We must’ve. I can’t imagine that six-year-old Courtney was the easiest little bundle of energy to parent and my little brother was a strong-willed child. (I have one of those SWIKS too, you know. Read more about that here, if you’d like.) Surely, my mother was exhausted too. Right??? Yet, it didn’t seem she was striving for joy. Joy seemed to be her super-power. It certainly still is. I’d kind of like it to be mine.
As I think back, I sometimes say that my mom knew how to make “special days special.”
In my family (both extended and immediate), we love holidays and birthdays. Special days meet the capacity for good memories, teachable moments, and joyful anticipation. Jesus has always been the focus of all Thanksgivings, Christmases, and Easters. The fun aspects of elves, turkies, egg-gifting bunnies, and reindeer were fully present in my childhood and added a bit of innocence and surprise. Yet, Jesus took the spotlight. He always will.
I don’t know how my parents did it, but as much as I search my heart, I think this is what they “got right.”
I keep coming back to the joy of our childhood–the true joy found in Jesus. My (now grown-up) little brother and I are both passionate followers of Jesus. Jesus is our rock, the one thing that remains, and the Lord and Savior of our lives. My parents pointed the happy days to Him. Jesus got the glory for all goodness in my home.
“Every good and perfect give is from above.” ~James 1:17
And I wonder if my parenting is as consistently joyful. I’m so intentional. I try and I try. Did my mom strive to keep a pace of intentional parenting? Is her heart just that happy? Will my children wonder the same thing of me?
“Was our mom just that happy?” I hope the three grown boys will say in twenty years.
Maybe a heart of gratitude and contentment is the key to joy-filled days.
Perhaps, it comes more naturally to some. Perhaps, others need to remind themselves to focus on Jesus and to intentionally parent in a way that shines His perfect joy! Maybe just maybe the distractions of shiny things and the rushed pace of our days cloud our vision more and more throughout the generations.
Yet, our Savior has arms wide open–a refuge from the rushed pace and a welcome to rest in His true peace. Perfect joy is found in Him and is available to all. Both the naturally joyful and the not quite as joyful friends? True joy can find its home in every heart that rests in Jesus Christ as Lord.
When our eyes are on Jesus, gratitude and contentment can be the way of daily life. When our eyes are on Jesus.”
The joy of childhood was never about the stuff. It’s never been about the shiny “stuff” with my parents. And to this day?
To this day, I promise you that Christmas could come and go for me without the exchanging of gifts. {Don’t take away my Christmas dress but that’s another level of materialism that I’d prefer to dismiss today.} Honestly, friends.
Holidays can be memorable and full of joy without a single gift. Granted, I certainly haven’t figured out an avenue to live that way with the gift exchanges abounding at each gathering, but I have discovered the true gift of joy and contentment in the seemingly small moments of a special day. My mom has always said,
“You have to find joy in the little things.”
How does one find joy in all seasons? As parents, can we cultivate meaningful holiday memories that outlast pretty packages and shiny gadgets?
Can we give our children special days with a focus that shifts away from the foot of the Christmas tree and toward the Savior in the manger?
The way my parents crafted memorable days? Yeah, I am still learning from them.
1) Special days didn’t have to be perfect days. Let’s begin here because this is where I, personally, am all sorts of whacked out. “Perfectionism is the theif of true joy.” ~Ann Voskamp
Excuse me while I write that on the chalkboard fifty, dusty times. The struggle is real for me. It wasn’t for my mom, though. She’d give my brother and I instructions on how to assemble the turkey cookies made from Oreos, candy corn, and surely something else. And then she didn’t hover. She’d show up at the end with a camera and “SNAP!” The memory was captured for a lifetime whether perfect or not so much. The value of special activities was placed majorly in the memory-making and very minorly in the finished product. If I’m honest? I’m still striving to place joy in the experience versus the finished results. How about you, sweet friend? Does perfectionism steal your joy? We can do better starting today. We’ve got this “memory making,” because Jesus is the giver of peace and patience. Press on, Sister.
2) Special days had a soundtrack. Music filled the room in every minute of every special activity. The sounds of putting up a Christmas tree? Kenny Rogers, Dolly Parton, and Barbara Mandrell sang tunes from the record player. The background of cleaning for Easter company? Sandi Patty’s lyrics, “Let there be praise! Let there be joy in our hearts!” annually rang from a little cassette tape. Wrapping Christmas presents? My mom and I harmonized to the Point of Grace Christmas CD, of course! What else?! Which songs fill your home during the holidays? The tone of the environment can be set by a “little bit of background music” as my mom often reminds us. {Insert hysterical laughter and eye rolling. She’s so serious. We just can’t keep it together for such elf-like reminders.} I suppose it’s true. “The best way to spread Christmas { or insert any random holiday here} cheer is singing loud for all to hear.”
3) Special days had simple traditions. The Thanksgiving mornings of my childhood always meant cinnamon rolls and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Even now, my children and husband know that Thanksgiving morning will begin in such a way. As soon as the ribbon is cut and the band begins marching down the streets of New York City, my phone rings. “Happy Thanksgiving! Are you watching the parade?” she sings. I always am. My father-in-law often records it with the DVR for me if we are traveling to their home on Thanksgiving morning. It’s the tradition. It doesn’t cost more than a pack or two of store-bought cinnamon rolls. Yet, the morning begins in a special way and our hearts have bonded over the shared experiences of Broadway casts and larger-than-life balloons shaped like Charlie Brown. Memory making is all about finding joy in the little moments.
4) Special days were knit together with the good news of Jesus. Because Jesus is a part of who we are. Waking to the sound of my mom playing hymns on the family piano was not uncommon in my childhood. The same can be said for dinner conversations that included the counting of blessings. “What are you thankful for?” It doesn’t feel unusual for family traditions to center around the love of Jesus when Jesus has always been a treasured guest at the table. If that isn’t your story, sweet friend? You can begin today. It’s never too late. Extend the invitation. Open your home to celebrations that focus on the truly good news!
5) Special days are treated as such. My mom has always been a stickler about treating special days…well, especially special. Special days have a higher standard than other days. There are reminders set in place as needed and all of the little reminders make a big difference. “There will not be any fighting on Christmas.” “We will not have fussing today. It is Thanksgiving.” {My mom clearly has zero tolerance for poor attitudes.} “If you can’t say something nice today at Grandma’s, don’t say anything at all.” The PSAs never ended with verbal warnings. There were also happy announcements. 6:00am and bedroom light flicks on. “Rise and shine! It’s your birthday today!!!” or this one, “Jingle Bells! Jingle Bells!!! It’s Thanksgiving! Come have breakfast!!!” The hype lasted all day with my mom, I tell you.
We aren’t a crew who pulls out the Eeyore voice to say, “It’s a day like any other day.” Nope. My mom reminded us that the day was special from beginning to end. With my dad, brother, and husband as my witnesses: special days end the same way with my mom. Always. Every time. As the day winds down, we recount the blessings, favorites, special moments. Yep. Verbally. We recap the whole thing. “Okay, Courtney, what was your very favorite part of the whole day?” Vacations end this way too. “Your turn, Honey,” she says to my dad, “What was the very best part of the trip?” And so it goes. Does anyone need reminding that the day is special? I think one could argue that the reminders make the day a bit more special. It’s a continual way of saying, “Today is special. I want you to enjoy this day.” Special days mustn’t come and go. We must intentionally embrace the joy.
As this season of holidays begins, may your heart be so near to Jesus. May His joy be ever present in your special days. May the goodness of the little things be a constant reminder to be truly thankful. May our hearts gather around the manger–the birthplace of true peace.
May the special days of your lives be defined by the communion with Emmanuel: God with us. His love can be found wherever you are. Invite Him in.
May your Thanksgiving be marked by grace and stamped with love.
Joy in all things.
Happiest Thanksgiving to you and your sweet people.
From my heart yours,
~Courtney
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