There is something about accomplishing the first work week of a new year that settles the change in routine and mindset that comes with the extended holiday season. As someone who believes the season does not end until Epiphany on January 6th, there is an overlap between the return to work and the holiday. After work on the 6th I worked to undo the holiday decorations. Truthfully, I have been intentional over the past two years to look for pillows, towels and other decorative items that are more winter themed than traditional Christmas. Mostly as an excuse to not have to undo the festive feeling while entering the long months of winter before renewal brought with spring. Snowflakes and birds and winter fauna lend themselves to extended use. In this work I found joy. For the first time, my tree was a bit of a "theme". I did not feel an obligation to hang every ornament my son has collected or been gifted in the past 23 years. To be clear, I would have gladly done so if he were interested, or participated in the decorating, but at this point we have happily settled on tree hunting together while he shirks his celebratory obligations as my Christmas Prince. Think Prince Henry, officially stepping away from "Senior duties" of the royal family and you will get the picture. But there is an aspect of the tree that is inspired by him, representing one of my many bad parenting moments and the lessons I am gifted from his patience in my shortcomings. Icicles. The return of icicles to the Christmas tree.
As any child of the 60s and 70s remembers, it was often difficult to even see the family Christmas tree through the tinsel hanging from the branches. Thankfully this decorating trend has been relegated to a happy memory. But there was something about the way the silver strands reflected the light of the tree. The idea of replicating ice hanging from trees, such a beautiful natural scene during a season often seen as dark and dreary. Several years ago, at what I deem the beginning of my son's withdrawal from his "senior" duties as Christmas Prince, he chose a single blown glass icicle as his ornament for the year. Now, keep in mind, this is the kid, formerly known as the Christmas Prince, that would most often choose an expensive blown glass ornament that had significance to his year. And then, in the midst of the teen years, chose an icicle. I reacted poorly. Fear of what would be a lifetime of disconnection to the holiday and traditions I held most dear. Thankfully his father intervened, and an icicle it was. And it looked sorely out of place that first year. But then the second year, he chose a set of blown glass icicles. And then for several years after would choose a different set, or more ornate icicles. Last year I decided I needed enough for the icicles to truly be a design choice and purchased more sets. I now have a tree filled with beautiful blown glass icicles dangling from the ends of branches, catching the lights and reflecting in a way reminiscent of the tinsel of my childhood, but in a way that feels more connected with my affinity for the natural world.
Often I see posts on social media with parents, especially moms, lamenting their children getting older, missing the early stages of childhood and what no longer is instead of celebrating what each new stage brings. I have been arrogant in my belief that this is one parenting mistake I didn't make! And yet, there are icicles. On my tree. That are a beautiful reminder that the fear of the changes that come naturally as our children mature into the adults they are meant to be will, yes, mean celebrations and relationships are different. But the changes may bring something more beautiful than we could have imagined in the middle of our fear. Unbecoming. It does not mean what was in the past did not serve. Unbecoming allows what is and will be to be celebrated more than what was is mourned.
Today I am grateful for lessons I am learning and have learned in the transitions of parenthood. What are you grateful for on this Sunday?
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