Rebuilding Christmas

For the first time in years our family is celebrating Christmas again. No, we are not now, nor have we ever been Jehovah's Witnesses. We don't belong to any special sect of Christianity. We stopped celebrating after being taught by our then pastor that Christmas was super pagan in nature. He had actually written and published a book called The Truth About Christmas. In it he expounds on the fact that the origin of the holiday is mired in paganism and debauchery. In fact, the bible itself discourages the Jewish people from things like cutting down trees and decorating them because they were doing so to copy the pagans of the time who were worshiping Baal, or some inactive deity who shouldn't have been worshiped by God's own people. Veritably, it was considered an abomination to celebrate Christmas in America until the late 1840's. This little known fact is difficult to reconcile with the current insistence on the "war on Christmas" perceived by pundits who would swear on a stack that Christmas is all about Jesus and a part of America's Christian heritage. Well, we try to pin it all on Jesus now, but that hasn't always been the case.

That said, the pastor did not impose a "we don't celebrate Christmas" edict on anyone. The idea was if you know the truth, then why would you do anything else?

A very small group of people attended this church, most of them sporadically. The teaching was different from most. This pastor was keen on the origin of every word in the bible and took it all literally. Even the Old Testament scriptures that mainstream Christians sort of overlook were very much attended to and taught and explained in depth. Nothing was left to chance. He covered over 150 scriptures in each sermon and examined the Greek and/or Hebrew origin of them all. I was relieved that he didn't do the typical prosperity teaching from the OT, but real instruction in behavior. He rarely preached. He taught most of the time. Yes, services could get long. He taught why television, most holidays, syncopated music, all secular music, and most Christian music, eating or spending time with fornicators, being friends with non-believers, inviting others to your home etc. caused everyone, without exception, to be inhabited by demons that needed to be cast out regularly. He set up appointments to do this with anyone individually for free. (Some charge hundreds for the service) We sang only older hymns and songs that he had written. There was no percussion, really because syncopation was considered demonic in nature. The children went to a back room during the sermons and had a lesson of their own. I was not allowed to work with the children. I was not given any explanation for this other than that they had enough help. There was no mechanism for background checks so this was a rule I was okay with since I figured it worked that way for everyone. I was wrong. There were people who I didn't see at church on bible study nights and didn't know working with the kids on Sundays. I didn't know what to think of this, and again no explanation was ever given. What's worse, I didn't feel powerful enough to ask. My children were taught that their dad's Christian rap music was demonic and given arts and crafts that didn't reflect their own heritage in any way. I'm sure this was not intentional or malicious in nature. It was overlooked because the primary concern was being like Jesus and conforming. All people perceive their god to be like them, to hold all the same attributes and attitudes, regardless of facts. To these people Jesus was a white, middle class American conservative and they taught him that way.

At any rate, this brought about a crisis of conscience for our family. We couldn't read this book, know this information, go to this church, and live an uber-conservative lifestyle while still celebrating the holiday. In fact, it seemed colossally incongruous, as if we were giving the God of the universe an engagement ring from a previous relationship. After many conversations and rationalizations, we determined that we wouldn't celebrate anymore.

With that, my husband proceeded to gather all our decorations and destroy them. Utterly. He didn't want to just put them out as trash because someone else would most likely take them and use them. So, he smashed and tore them with a fervor I didn't really expect. The passion was alarming at the time, but I didn't say anything about it. I look back now and I'm somewhat embarrassed by it. Our family had transitioned into a new way of operating. I had been commissioned to quit my job as an educator. I was convinced that it was better for our family if I were home. Then, I was talked into homeschooling the kids. After all, I was an excellent teacher. Why wouldn't I channel all that energy into my own children. This seemed selfish for me personally because I saw teaching as a form of superheroics, saving impoverished children from illiteracy one class at a time, but in some Christian circles this is the only way to go. My husband began the relentless pursuit of supporting a family with one income. This is virtually impossible without working an ungodly amount of time. He was holding two or three jobs, working up to 80 hours a week. He was either asleep or gone, or too tired to do anything other than sit or lay and lounge. Needless to say, isolation set in. To top all that off, we weren't celebrating the big C. When you don't celebrate Christmas, don't go to work, don't send your children to school, don't have a social church, don't, don't, don't...it can be unbelievably lonely. The seclusion is piercing because you wonder if everyone forgot you exist. It makes you feel horrible.

This horror intensified when we shunned all things Christmas. When October rolled around  and all the Christmas fare made its yearly appearance, it felt as if I were sleeping through a dream I was having, but wasn't in. I pondered how difficult it must be to practice anything other than mainstream Christianity and live in a society that so obnoxiously imposes its traditions on you. Atheists, Jews, Muslims, etc. must be used to it, but they certainly can't overlook it. Many of them celebrate the holiday, even if it doesn't align with their beliefs. I never considered it before, but the holiday season can be an unapologetically pernicious time of year. Everything cloaked in red or green. I now notice blue and silver for Hanukkah, but if you wanted to celebrate Kwanzaa, you may as well pretend because there is no merchandise available in mainstream outlets with which to do it. Santa is everywhere. Huge displays of stuff already wrapped in holiday garb is blocking every aisle. Regular merchandise is removed and replaced by ornaments, trees, tinsel, and other Christmas staples. This never really seemed unusual before. Even when retailers put out their displays at the end of September it was presumptuous, but not completely offensive. But now it just flew in the face of reason. And, the expectation to spend was ridiculous. Every commercial on the radio (we rarely turned on a TV), every ad in every paper, and every store you entered bathed you in the idea that you needed to spend some cash, even on those slippers in the shape of an elf while supplies last and the sale is on. It was an immersion in the ridiculous. What about those who have a real budget? What about those who are living paycheck to paycheck all year? Now that I was on the other side of the coin, all of it, every speck of glitter, every fancy orb, the pressure to spend money, and all the smiling Santas, just seemed abhorrent, abusive even. Every time you're exposed to a holiday special or confronted with holiday anything, you second guess your sanity, or curse the world for being insane. Still, I understood this was my decision to be a minority in a situation where I didn't have to. Any inconveniences I experienced were of my own creation. I chose to place myself and my family in this outcast position. I was not born into it like so many others are. So, I would endure the memories of Christmases past, the forlorn looks on my children's faces when they couldn't participate, and the strikingly difficult eye rolls and judgement being passed by those who were either gone or unaware of the change.

Friends...family, the struggle becomes overwhelmingly real: Oh no, you've joined a cult! What, why, are you Jehovah's Witness? What's that about, did you become an atheist? What about the babies, why can't they have a Christmas? When one explains the pagan roots of any tradition to a traditionalist they counter with the simplest of arguments. Well, that's not why I celebrate it. What about now, that's not what it means. And what can the researcher, the truth herald, say? They are also telling a truth. Full of fight, embarrassment, frustration, and that sinking feeling of not being like everyone else, you begin to fade away. Invitations to secret santa exchanges and holiday parties you won't attend become scarce and eventually, to your relief, disappear. Christmas morning comes and goes with no particular muss or fuss.

And yet, with all the socio-cultural challenges that come along with it, there are some perks. It's remarkably calming to not have to go "Christmas shopping". The stress of trying to buy stuff for people or trying to provide a jabillion toys for your kids is non-existent. Which, since we had very little disposable cash, this felt peaceful. We didn't spend a lot on anything really. Without having to travel anywhere or do anything, we saved money, time, and stress.

But, being a person who had known the high life of Christmas, I knew we were missing something. I know my kids will only get this one shot at growing up. Every experience will add or take away from the people they become and I felt deep down inside that I was keeping something special from them. No, certainly not the toys. The anticipation of toys is great, but the stuff itself is completely unimportant. Truly, I can hardly remember 90% of the bounty my mom left for us under the tree and around the entire living room every year, just that she did it because she loved us. The best part of the holidays is the memories of the fun and learning something new about yourself from it all. I still recall Christmases at my Grandmother's house being some of the best times of my life and the interaction with my family being part of what shaped me. The excitement that filled me when I saw my aunts and uncles and cousins flood through the door was like very few things I've experienced since. They didn't necessarily "get" me anything...I imagine there were way too many cousins. But, their presence was what I loved. Their stories and jokes were gift enough. The hugs and smiles and pure love in the room was more beautiful that any material gift I would ever receive.Watching movies and shrieking with uncontrollable laughter, singing songs, talking, playing, and eating the most delectable treats without worrying about anything is what the holidays were about. The family time is priceless. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was not giving my kids a chance to know that, to feel that. And, somehow, that was just wrong.

Fast forward to present day and we no longer attend that church. There are many reasons, but only one stands out now. The pastor told the congregation during the last election, on more than one occasion, that it was a "godly" decision to vote for Romney. There was so much packed into that statement that we had to take a step back and truly consider the influence we were allowing into our lives. If something as worldly as voting could be considered godly, then what is the bible really about? Besides that, Jesus was a community organizer while Pontius Pilate was a governor. True Christianity practically dictated a vote for the other guy. Our concern became that American Christians had come to an impasse where they would either sell out true Christian values to hold hands with racism and warmongering or stay focused on the right path regardless of politics. We didn't stick around to find out how that particular congregation came out in the battle, they seemed to be losing it. We faced the sobering reality that being black matters, all the time. And while it doesn't necessarily affect your ability to practice Christianity, it can present some contradictions that are really tough to mold into a working faith.

So, this year, flying free from any indoctrination outside that which we choose to impose upon ourselves, we had a family meeting and decided that we would try to celebrate Christmas again. We don't really know how this should look, but we decided there would be presents (kids chose this element), decorations (I was adamant...it's fun), and good food (Dad would not relent on this). We can't invoke a "Jesus is the reason" attitude anymore because we know better. Santa is still out of the question, advent calendars are not happening (even the fancy ones full of beauty products), and going into debt is not an option. Our Christmas is about family, love, and peace. The ultimate goal being to build some positive memories, relax, and have fun.

Chronicles: Do Homeschool Moms Have To Have It All?

Lately our homeschool life has been quite the roller coaster ride. Our lives got out of sync when my husband was injured while engaging in his favorite hobby - basketball. Of course, we're not spring chickens and this isn't the first time this has happened. We've lived through dad's broken finger (surgically reconstructed), his torn Achilles' tendon (surgically reattached), and several hurt knees and sore backs. But, back in those days we had a dual income family and I wasn't particularly worried about cash because we lived beneath our means anyway. His time off and the cost of the surgeries was absorbed and we just managed with only a little inconvenience to boot.

Fast forward to now, when we're primarily a one earner family, and this injury turned our world upside down. Well, I'll back up to the beginning. One especially fateful day my husband decided to stop on his way home from a meeting to play a game of b-ball. Only, if you know my husband you realize that this is not the typical hoops game for the average cardio workout, exercise for the stay active adult. My husband approaches basketball with the passion of Picasso at a canvas and the precision of a knife thrower. He plays as if he were a Shaq/Jordan/ Lebron hybrid and interestingly enough, everyone watching the show eggs this behavior on. He blocks and defends and weaves and hits almost every shot while his unlikely fans gather around to ooh and aah. The man challenges three and four people, complete strangers, at one time just for the practice. He "works out" by making it his own personal goal to beat his opponents by wide margins, even if there are several to his one. He would be a Youtube sensation if he were ever so enterprising as to have himself videoed and then put on display. He spends so much time on the court he's invented new defense moves and people actually imitate him and win. It's uncanny really. He loves the game dearly but his venture out on this day would prove to be a life-changing one.  He hurt himself pretty bad, to the point that he could hardly walk. He hobbled around and took the weekend off work until he started feeling somewhat better.

At the same time, my daughter and I had a previously scheduled weekend getaway with my mom to attend a wedding in Washington, D.C. I felt bad leaving him here in that condition with the boys, but I thought he'd take a couple days off and recharge and all would be well once we returned. And sure enough, after a few days he got a slight spring in his step. You'd think he would take it easy at this point and stay off the court until he was 100%, but with the break he had taken looming over him he was determined to get out there and prove himself again. That would spell doom. He came down from the attempted dunk mercilessly thrown back into a most painful throbbing down the lower right side of his body. This time the pain wouldn't go away. In fact, he couldn't even stand up straight and no matter what position; sitting, standing, laying, barely walking, he was in indescribable pain. After tons of online research, four visits to medical professionals, and three weeks without any relief he finally found a world- renowned doctor who could read his MRI and determine what was actually wrong. Drum roll...he needed surgery. He had this mammoth bulging disc that was so large it ruptured and broke part of a bone that was sitting on his nerve. In short, basketball was getting on his nerves! Mine too *indiscriminate eye roll*. This piece had to be removed. They would have to cut him open again. Of course, while my husband is lamenting the end of his not-so-professional ball career where he was a legend in his own mind, all I could think about was how we were going to exhaust our insurmountable insurance deductible and take the hit of all the time he missed from work since he's on an hourly salary. I hate to be so nuts and bolts, but increasingly that has become my role in our duo. Anyone who knows me would sigh if they realized I am the practical one in this relationship, but it is so.

It's exhausting to write, read, or think about. Of course, he is the bulk wage earner of our home. I have a part time job to help out with the extras and to have some contact with the outside world, my hyper sensible idea of a girls' night out. But, that quickly became a have-to rather than a luxury. Suddenly my $9/hr and 11 hour work week became bread and butter. Talk about scary. Suddenly I have a stake in a magical fairy land where our current Congress passes a $15/hr minimum wage hike. We had some savings put away, but we were also in the middle of a repair / remodel phase on our home. Perfect timing. Unabashedly, we rely on his income to pay the bills, put food on the table, and gas up. But, the incidental things we like to do go back by the wayside. It's essentially back to couponing and staying on the free things to do with kids sites. Thank God they're out there. Thank God for lower gas prices. Thank God for store brand foods and cheap frozen veggies.

Notwithstanding all the work required after his surgery and weeks of bed rest, all of a sudden we had two parents at home all day every day. Albeit, one of them couldn't perform any major duties and the other had to perform just about all of them. The cooking, cleaning, washing, repairs, remodels, caring for a toddler, and teaching the older children would fall on me alone. Dad is not the bookwormy, studious type. In fact, he's the party in the house. When he's home it's talking and playing and fun with the kids...a contrast from the seriousness of chores and textbooks and sustained silent reading. Somehow teaching a lesson on double digit multiplication while Dad croons made up lyrics about how he loves his little girl at the top of his lungs is just not conducive to a learning environment. Thankfully my mom was in town during the surgery so she came and helped tremendously. Gratefully she's always in town at opportune moments. She cooked meals and cleaned, or supervised the boys while they cleaned behind themselves. She held a lot down while I attended to the patient during and after surgery, painted and primed and ordered the things we needed for the remodel. She even taught for me when we had to go to a follow up appointment. Such a relief to have her here. Still, there's just a lot involved in the whole matter so taking it one step at a time becomes an art, not a suggestion.

At the same time that I'm running around like some sort of Tasmanian, in the back of my mind I'm panicking because we're not quite sure if his recovery will be a strong one or if he'll be forever unable to viably earn an income. All repair and remodel work comes to a screeching halt, the stress of having to re-enter the workforce looming. When we took the chance and I walked away from my career as a passionate educator I knew it was a risk. I knew we were venturing out on faith and that I needed to be ready at any moment to give up my stay home mom / homeschooler career. But, that didn't help when the reality of it hit. Of course, homeschooling has its own set of drawbacks. There's this isolation homeschoolers face that is extremely difficult. We live super far away from extended family and the family who is here is not necessarily close. My husband is by nature a loner so we don't have a support system. Due to some serious research on spiritual abuse and our incompatible views on church attendance, we worship on our own, we don't go out and he's the epitome of professionalism at work - so, no friends there. Of course, when I left the workforce all my work friends sort of disappeared. I spend all my time and energy working on home, my kids, and my husband. With the exception of a few connections, we are on our own. And while this is hard for me (I usually have many friends and acquaintances with like interests to rely on for entertainment and support), I enjoy the stay home mom part. I like being there for every milestone my daughter achieves and seeing my sons grow into good decision makers. I like keeping things organized and knowing my home and family so well. I like making my own schedule and writing my own ticket to get things done. So, even with its inconveniences I still believe in the miracle of having at least one parent whose primary focus is making home hospitable for everyone.

Needless to say, this particular injury has been a redefining moment. I am cursing the days I complained about the work of it thinking Karma's out here again exacting her revenge. I'm regretting that I ever said anything negative about teaching my kids or being with my daughter all day, as the universe is now paying me back. Hear me loud and clear: I appreciate the opportunity completely.

Nonetheless, I am brooding over the prospect of being sort of on my own doing all this stuff. Caring for my children, my spouse, my home, and our livelihood while there's another adult in the home who literally can't is dismal to think about. I want to be sympathetic and compassionate for him because he's lost a hobby that largely defined him. But, God help me, I can't bring myself to be bothered to care. I'm terrified anticipating a future of hard labor. I'm sure single moms go through having to take care of themselves and their kids all the time. My mom raised us alone, but without the emotional complication of having a spouse or partner to support. I'm sure there are women who choose to take care of their significant others financially. Data have shown most recently that stay home dads have become more of the norm than ever in American culture. But, I didn't sign up for that. I always envisioned either a two earner income home or a male earner income home, not a two parent, sole female earner income home. Consequently, I didn't choose a mate who was particularly skilled in home management. So, the stress of the moment has been more than challenging for all of us.

In fact, I wonder, can I have it all? Not to ride Anne Marie Slaughter's coattails, but I think she's on to something. Can I really work a full time job somewhere, take care of my kids and my spouse, manage our home, and still be an alluring, doting, desiring friend to my spouse without wanting to ring his neck? So far the answer has been a resounding no. I don't have it all and emotionally projecting, I probably can't. I'm either too stressed, too angry, or too busy to care about the sexy part. And my organization skills leave much to be desired when considering I'd have to be a nanny, maid, chef, teacher, plumber, handyperson, and some other arbitrary person in the world to ensure all our needs are met. I just can't care about being a personal companion and lover. I have to wonder if male earners feel this way about their responsibilities. Probably not since they are not also pressured into keeping house and kids happy. They really only have to do a miniscule part of what makes family life what it is, according to tradition anyway. Whoever came up with the notion that women could have it all and why on earth would you want to? Ideally, when two people fall in love, get married, and have a baby the system should not be so subjective. They should determine each other's strengths and assets and assign life's tasks accordingly. This business about male and female roles is just really overwhelming and, quite frankly, confusing sometimes.

At this point my husband has gone back to work after a month off, but things are far from the way we are accustomed to them being. We have been forever transformed by this episode. This experience taught us that we need to build our savings with different goals in mind and make sure we do some smarter financial planning for both of us. While things are slowly getting back to "normal", everything's changed. I'm still plagued by the notion that I've made myself a sitting duck. Without earning and without having certain insurances in tact I've left myself and my kids in a precarious situation. Is that irresponsible? Yep, probably. If it's possible to do better we should. My husband is still in a state of shock that at his ripe age he probably won't make a semi-pro team and cart us off to Spain anytime soon. He's devastated and having a rough go of it. I'm all Martha and no Mary over here telling him to suck it up, focus, and get back to work. That's probably very wrong, but also terribly necessary under the circumstances. A big bonus to all this is he's realizing that just earning wages isn't enough. He has to play a bigger role in the homeschool process and in the home organization and maintenance aspect of our lives. So, that's a definite plus.

Homeschooling has its privileges and being there to guide and nurture our kids at every turn has been more than comforting. But, not being a wage earner has been thoroughly disarming as we weave through this tapestry of income fear. It's unfortunate. Can anyone say...Megamillions winnings? Short of that, I can't see how homeschool moms navigate these waters and stay sane the whole time. Bottom line, I feel the need to be an earner who enjoys what I do, has great benefits, and enough time at home to effectively teach and raise my kids and manage to maintain the pride of home ownership. I guess I kind of remotely sort of want it all as a necessity, but certainly under more amenable circumstances I wouldn't need it all, by any means. That's like, this behemoth feminist, fairy tale, submitted wife, Proverbs 31 hybrid monster that needs to be tamed, I suppose. In the meantime I'm divvying up all chores and tasks and handing them out to the able bodied unapologetically.