My minimalistic Christmas

Choosing the good part.

My dad's hand and mine, chilly December evening 2023.

I'm not sure how early each house that celebrates Christmas puts up the Christmas tree, not even sure what early means to each family. My family and I would usually put up the tree on the eve of Christmas, maybe we don't like getting used to the Christmas feeling from the beginning of December. We want to experience it at its freshness, from the night of 24th December, like how the Magi followed the star. This Christmas, my sisters and I at my dad's place, didn't put up the Christmas tree altogether.

There's absolutely nothing wrong with preparations of any kind, infact, planning and preparing is an essence in human life. But, there are some moments in life where your presence will be much more needed than your preparation. This year's Christmas had me thinking about that. It carried that feeling, less preparation and more of us just being there, and Lord did it feel so good!

But, there are some moments in life where your presence will be much more needed than your preparation.

If you have read some stories about Jesus from the Bible, there's one that carries the lesson, presence. When Jesus visited Mary and Martha, Martha had been busy preparing some food and drinks for Jesus while Mary just sat at the feet of Jesus. It's this statement that Jesus spoke that really frees me sometimes,

[41] But the Lord replied to her, “Martha, Martha, you are worried and bothered and anxious about so many things; [42] but only one thing is necessary, for Mary has chosen the good part [that which is to her advantage], which will not be taken away from her.” ‭‭Luke‬ ‭10:41‭-‬42‬ ‭AMP‬‬

And I wonder how many times God has spoken the same thing over me, how many times people who love me and want my presence wish to say the same. How many times I've wanted to tell people I love the same. It's a human condition we can learn to create ease in.

Choosing the good part.

My Christmas this year was a little living of that. I didn't know what I was going to wear to church for Christmas Mass the next day, until the night before. When I was younger, Christmas outfits were something to start preparing for two weeks prior. I even didn't know what exactly was for lunch because I didn't spend time in the kitchen (I mean, who does if you got 4 older sisters who all want to do the cooking.)

I spent that cooking time in my dad's bedroom, lifting up a spoon of warm soup and fish to his fairly bearded mouth. He would sometimes open his mouth very readily, and other times there was reluctance. I delighted in the trust I earned from him everytime his lips parted to let the spoon through. A few times calling out softly “Baba”, to just see his eyes shift from the window and onto my face, an acknowledgement of each other's presence of some kind. And this becomes my first Christmas to spend with my dad since he got dementia. No preparation, just presence. If you ask me, I feel like I chose the good part (now shiiiiiii, don't say this to my sisters.)