Finding the Spirit of Christmas in the Change of Seasons

The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us. We have seen his glory, the glory of the one and only Son, who came from the Father, full of grace and truth.  (John 1:14)

My husband and I lay on our couch, surrounded by ice packs, trying not to move so we could stay cool. The heatwave came in about three days earlier. This day would go on record as the hottest day of the year. It was not July; it was December—Christmas Eve, actually.

When I was about five years old, my family lived in Northern Arizona. It had snowed little—if at all—that year. All the traditional songs told me the best Christmas is a white Christmas. All of December, I hoped beyond hope it would snow. Each morning I ran to the window, threw back the curtain, and shouted, “Did it snow!?” Then I hung my head in disappointment at the sight of the long-dead grass of winter. 

Thus, it continued every morning—until Christmas morning! We woke up to a foot of freshly fallen snow! Undisturbed by shovels or boots, the sparkling white canvas was just begging for snow-angels and snowball fights! My dad had a fire roaring in the fireplace, my mom made hot cocoa and sang along with her favorite Christmas albums—I can almost hear her harmonizing with Bing Crosby as he crooned “White Christmas”—and there was a massive pile of gifts under the tree for my siblings and me. I’m not sure what else happened that day, but to me, it was magical.

From then on, that little five-year-old heart would manifest itself anew each December, full of hope and awe as we set up our tree, hung our lights to dance in the windows, and hoped for snow. My spirit continued to lift as Douglas Firs graced the front windows of our neighbors, and lights illuminated houses along our street, brightening the dark days of winter.

Love for “all things Christmas” continued into adulthood. My husband and I spent our first holiday season together in the Pacific Northwest. It snowed (and rained). I got to wear clothes that felt like a warm hug. We walked through several light displays in the area and we bought ornaments to remind us of our first Christmas. I had carols playing in the house and car almost non-stop. Our tree stood in the window with its beautiful white lights twinkling their joyous noel. And, though we didn’t have a fireplace, we still snuggled up and enjoyed Hallmark movies! 

However, the following year would begin a life of missionary service in the Southern Hemisphere. With seasons being opposite, how would I handle celebrating Christmas in the summer? How could I trade in my hot cocoa and snow boots for iced tea and flip-flops? How would that affect my Christmas spirit?

At first, I tried to recreate my childhood’s “White Christmas” experience. But as we lay on our couch with our ice during that heatwave, I looked at my decorations, drooping as if they were melting from the heat as well. I realized the lights, ornaments, and music could no longer be the source of my Christmas joy. While I had always understood we were celebrating Jesus’s birthday, all the other elements, the symbols, traditions, and music, and gifts, somehow overshadowed the true spirit of Christmas.

We needed to establish traditions revolving around the reason for the season: the birth of Jesus Christ, Savior of the World. Reading scripture that tells of His birth, singing worship songs, spending time in fellowship. Traditions that focus on Christ. Now my husband takes a week off around Christmas so we can spend quality time as a family. We read Scripture and play worship music each night of December in anticipation of Christmas. We emphasize why we celebrate more than how. As a result, our children are growing up knowing the true meaning of Christmas. 

The Advent season is still my favorite time of year. But these days, I’m no longer as moved by the decorations, traditions, or the overall atmosphere of the season as I once was. Oh sure, I still long for snow, cocoa by a fire, and cheesy Hallmark movies. The first snow of winter will always carry me back to the awe-inspiring days of my childhood. But that’s not what makes Christmas. It is far more important to honor the beginning of Jesus’s life on earth. 

Christians come together in a spirit of unity to celebrate the birth of Christ—a birth that changed history—the day that “the Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us” (John 1:14). It is a day to remember that Jesus humbled Himself and left His throne in heaven to come to earth. To live a humble life, and die a horrific death on the cross—for us. We celebrate His birth because the saving grace of His death on the cross does not happen without it.

While my house may look different this time of year, and I wear shorts and t-shirts instead of long pajamas, my heart is full of love for Jesus. I pray we can all remember the reason for the season. So, from me, with my flip-flops and iced tea, to you, perhaps with your snow boots and hot cocoa, I wish you a merry Christmas.