“I don’t have a single pony!” Goldilocks cried out over her breakfast cereal.

This was the abrupt opening to an unhappy scene three years ago, when our daughter was four. We had been enjoying a normal, quiet breakfast together when this bitter lament suddenly burst from our little girl without warning. Our Goldilocks, to this day, is the only non-animated child I have ever encountered who can transform her face entirely from calm complacence to utter anguish in literally the blink of an eye, complete with fresh tears shining on each flushing cheek. She’s a Shakespearean dream and I’m terrified to let her near a stage for how far she’s gotten without one.

In this particular moment, there was no sniffling nor soft crying to speak of. Goldilocks was wailing up to the rafters one solitary breath after having taken an expressionless bite of her oats.

“What do you mean?” I asked her in a holler above the continued wailing. She got her lungs from somewhere, after all. “You have toy horses and my-little ponies!”

“NOO!!!” Goldilocks sobbed. “Not toy ponies. I want a REAL PONY!”

Veruca Salt, anyone? Oh, but it went on…

“I want to be a COWGIRL! And you can’t be a cowgirl when you don’t even have a SINGLE PONY!”

No wise thoughts or words came to mind; only some ridiculous, smirking ramble about a “Farm Harmony” site for all the poor, single ponies out there. “All the single ponies, all the single ponies, now put your hooves up!” The complaint felt much too absurd to address seriously. But unfortunately, this wasn’t our family’s first visit to see The Little Princess in all her royal spoil.

The year before, when she was just three, Goldilocks had plopped herself down on the couch to “pehwuse” a stack of Christmas books freshly released from their plastic storage tote. She didn’t reach for the one about the poor little Appalachian girl in The Year of the Perfect Christmas Tree. No, the first book she got her hot hands on was “Baby’s Christmas,” a vintage Eloise Wilkin illustrated Little Golden Book.

Everything about this out-of-print gem is darling, except for one little, golden thing. “Baby” gets a lot of Christmas presents; an awful lot.

Perhaps you’re questioning what quantifies as “an awful lot” in my sheltered little corner of the world. After all, you’ve seen how I gush about harvesting vegetables. Fair enough. I invite you to judge for yourself. Here’s “Baby’s” list of loot that Santa leaves, each item illustrated in color-bursting, toddler-tantalizing glory

• music box
• string of beads
• teddy bear
• stuffed dog
• little drum
• kiddie car
• rubber ball
• picture book
• stuffed kitty cat
• rocking horse
• bouncy swing
• shovel and pail
• rubber duck
• little boat
• building blocks
• toy milk truck
• toy train
• pull cart

Is anyone else breathing into a paper bag right now?

“Baby” got eighteen gifts for Christmas. EIGHTEEN! And as if that wasn’t enough, the book ends with this delightful little twist: “Where will Baby keep the toys, all piled up to the skies? Just turn the page and you will see a great big, big surprise! For Santa left a toy box, a red and yellow toy box, so pretty and so gay! And that’s where Baby puts the toys, at the end of every day!”

What a Christmas trauma! There was so much stuff, Santa had to leave a giant new toy box to hold it all! Talk about setting up a kid with unrealistic, or at least unhealthy expectations.

Well sure enough, “Baby’s” fictional bounty leapt off those pastel pages like an evil Christmas elf and pinched the beholder’s button nose. Little Goldilocks’ big blue eyes suddenly turned bright green. She snapped the book shut with finality and announced to the room: “I don’t have a rocking horse! Or a wagon! I need a little horse and a little cart for Christmas!”

At least she didn’t put the cart before the horse, I thought to myself, half resigned. I closed the dishwasher and turned my eyes heavenward, a classic American-mom tableau.

I don’t remember how I approached this first display of Christmastime-consumer greed in our three-year-old Goldilocks. And I don’t remember how I spoke to the heart of the four-year-old pony depressed either. Oh, I’m sure we talked about it. We talk about everything around here. There were probably some gratitude exercises employed, also known as vintage parenting. It was all too plain to see, however, that none of our efforts made much immediate difference. In fact, we had to wait a few weeks to witness in our daughter’s eyes the dawn of a wider worldview and the gratitude it inspired. As is often the case in the ironic story of life, this awakening was brought about by an outside source, un-orchestrated, unsolicited, and even unwanted.

A week before Christmas, the “season of getting” launched a surprise, rear-attack on Goldilocks. That familiar hollowness of wanting something she didn’t have was replaced by the fullness of mourning something suddenly taken from her.

“Curious” had vanished. At first we thought she had just ran off through the woods to find a tom cat and hoped she would return in a few days. But after a week had passed, carrying with it about a month’s worth of snow, the horizon looked pretty grim. The tears in those days leading up to Christmas were almost more than I could bear. The Captain was sad, but Goldilocks was heartbroken. I would by lying if I told you I was not tempted to pour sugar over our little’s one’s mourning process; to smother and snuff out the flame of its truth. My husband and I could have lied and made up a happy ending for Curious the kitten. We could have agreed to the pleas to get a replacement kitty right away. We could have buried her grief in Christmas goodies and soul-numbing stuff.

Instead, we let her hitch up her horse and cart to travel that real, rugged, snow-laden road. We let her pull up her boots and try her hat at being a real cowgirl, just like she’d always wanted.

Goldilocks reached the summit as I was tucking her into bed one night. She looked up at me with big, transparent eyes and said, “Mama, I only want one thing for Christmas this year.” Hoping her answer would be one of the half-dozen items already hidden in my closet, I asked “oh, and what is that?” Her reply fell on me the way the ice dams dump from the eaves after a heavy snow. “All I want for Christmas,” she said, “is to have Curious back.” I didn’t answer for a moment. The mama-to-the-rescue instinct was hard to fend off. Inspirations of a fresh, replacement kitten with a festive, red bow tied around its neck momentarily resurrected in my mind. A fairytale story about a kitten given a halo and tasked with the job of guardian angel to a little golden-haired girl formed in the desperate corners of my imagination.

I swallowed hard and settled on truth; a gift which serves us far better and longer than some shiny, glittering illusion.

“Well, my love,” I answered into the darkness that felt heavier than usual, “I can’t give you that.” I expected tears of protest from the Cart-and-Pony Princess, but they didn’t come. Goldilocks had toughened along the tearful trail she’d crossed. She looked up at the ceiling through eyes like high-noon in January as she considered my words. A strange, grateful smile settled below the curves of her plump cheeks, little shadows below the twin hills. It seemed the permission to cease from hope was soothing to her sad soul.

In the morning, for morning always comes −perhaps especially for cowgirls− Goldilocks looked out the window into the snowy woods and stated simply, “She’s been gone many days now, Mama. I’m starting to forget what she looked like.” That’s when I noticed the sun rising over the snow. I watched golden beauty emerge from an ashen sky. I sensed seeds under blankets of frozen fertility; gratitude to be slowly watered and nourished by springs of grief.

This little girl who wanted a veritable hippopotamus for Christmas not so very long ago, only wanted now, with all her heart, a very real, very humble, very dear little thing. It was a thing she knew I could not give her and therefore made all the more precious for it. The gentling of her jaw told the new story of the fragile and uncertain as the dearest sort of things under the sun; indeed the things that aren’t even things at all.

The solemn expression on her face made me marvel in a way no theatrical spectacle ever could. My little girl, porcelain pale in the white glow of the frosty morning, was beholding for the first time the many shades and colors of real life reflected on bleak drifts of snow. I searched for warm, comforting words to bundle her up in. None came to mind as I knew deep down they shouldn’t. Instead, I merely joined her at the window, both of us sending silent yearnings into the snowy woods.

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When they want a hippopotamus for Christmas . . .

give them instead . . .

Christmas with a VIEW

view (noun)

1. extent or range of vision: sight
2. the act of seeing or examining
3. a mode or manner of looking at or regarding something

It’s been a few years since our family’s initial lesson in grief and gratitude. During this time, our family has been moving incrementally further away from the “Consumer Christmas Culture” and closer to a simpler, more soulful, Christ-centered Christmas. And because God gives good gifts to His children, we are discovering that the more we let go of what we think we want, the more He blesses us with what our souls actually long for. And just what is that?

It’s Christmas with a view . . .

an expanded worldview . . .

a vision above what’s under the tree. . .

a view beyond ourselves . . .

a regard for others and the God who created them . . .

a beholding and cherishing of His beautiful gifts to us.

The expanding of worldview and garnering of gratitude, as I learned with Goldilocks, begins with putting on a new pair of boots. Our first-world kids (and their parents too!) need to tramp through some real . . . stuff. We also need plenty of opportunities to log miles in the boots of others; to look through eyes that have seen other times in history or other places around the world. We need to put our hands to the celebrated crafts and skills that helped our ancestors to survive and ones that continue to help people around the globe survive or thrive to this day.

All of this requires time, space, and energy; three things most of us tend to run short on in the calmest of seasons. Rest assured: “Christmas with a VIEW” is not about adding more to your load. It’s about reallocating what you fill. Of course, this is an ongoing, daily practice. We have miles to go, but the destination is in view and we are enjoying the journey! In fact, each time we loosen our reins on that Christmas pony and wander further away from the hoofing-it-holiday-highway, we are finding the simple joys of the season abound all the more on the quieter, side trails.

Do your kids need “Christmas with a VIEW?”

Here’s a little experiment that we used on our kids: ask your child what gifts he or she received last Christmas. How many can your child recall? Note how long it takes your child to remember each gift. Then, ask your child what he loves about Christmas. Ask her what traditions she looks forward to. Ask him which holiday activities he would like to try or repeat this year. If your child can’t recall the gifts as well or fondly as the holiday traditions and activities, you have your answer. Conversely, if your child recalls the gifts with more clarity and enthusiasm than the time spent together in Christmases gone by, that may also indicate the need for a more soulful season.

We have been discovering that our kids truly enjoy the heart and soul of the season more than the stuff. The sooner we parents embrace just savoring the season with our families, the more each and every one of us can sit back and enjoy a more peaceful, wonder-filled Christmas!

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Simple Swaps for a more soulful, Christmas with a VIEW!

I invite you and your family to make some swaps with us this season for a less-is-merry Christmas!

#1. Less screentime, more storybooks.

Skip the endless movie marathon (I mean do we really need to see Elf every year?) and cozy up on the couch with the kids for more reading by the Christmas tree this year. For even more solace, plan reading times where everyone reads on their own, in silence under the glowing Christmas tree. Bliss aside, I truly believe there is no easier nor more affordable way to help our children travel the globe and expand their worldviews than through the pages of beautiful books.

Peruse Our Favorite Christmas Reads here.

Or for a bit more holiday flair, take a peek at our family’s beloved Dramas in Pajamas tradition!

#2. Less presents, more play.

Might I suggest getting our children fewer gifts this year? A lot fewer. What if we each got our children one gift each or only did stocking stuffers like Laura Ingalls’ family? I’m preaching to myself on this one too, friends. Let’s use half the time we would have spent shopping and wrapping and breaking down all that cardboard to play with the kids! They will not be disappointed if we put it to them this way: “we’re going to have less presents this year and instead play together a lot more.”

Remember this one if you start to lose your nerve: “All they want for Christmas is . . . YOU.” Don’t thank me, thank Mariah Carey.

#3. Less junk, more joy!

The holiday season doesn’t require us to make unhealthy choices in order to have a good time. What if we made it our goal to actually feel good going into the new year? Join us in adding more fruits and vegetables to our delicious holiday dishes, lightening up on sugar, and clearing some boxes of stuff out of the house rather than filling it up more than ever!

Treat yourself to a few of our healthy holiday recipes:

• ~Frosted VEGAN NUTMEG NOG~
• ~Rich & Creamy VEGAN HOT COCOA~
• ~Visions of Sugarplums CHRISTMAS CANDY TUTORIAL~

Or inspire a Christmas declutter spree with my favorite simplifying book: “The Joy of Less” by Francine Jay. This book helped me get rid of 3/4 of our family’s junk several years ago. If you need the urge to purge, I highly recommend it!

#4. Less show, more snow!

This time of year, we can get caught up in keeping up with the Jones’ Christmas light display. Or the Smith’s holiday party. Or how many gifts the kids’ cousins get. Simply put, the holidays can sometimes feel like a show.

What do you spend the most time and money on during the holidays? What do you obsess over the most? What can you cut from the to-do list in favor of just getting outside and romping with the family?

#5. Less consuming, more creating!

We humans tend to consume when we don’t know what else to do. You know, like that stereotypical bag of potato chips in front of the tv. When given the choice and healthy reminder, however, I think it is in our better nature to create. Kids especially, love to create with their parents. So instead of the endless eating, opening of gifts, and fun-filling, let’s get to cooking or crafting up something new!

Check out our 12 Days of Christmas Crafts here!

Take a peek at our 12 Helpful Holiday Tasks to Unspoil our Kids this Christmas!

#6. Less stressing, more blessing!

What overwhelms you during the holidays? What source (or sources) of stress could you completely cut and instead use that energy and headspace to bless someone else? It doesn’t have to be fancy, overly time-intensive, or expensive. Let’s skip shopping and visit an elderly neighbor. Let’s use gift bags and save all that gift wrapping time to bake a few holiday loaves. Let’s put up simpler decorations and go have a cup of Christmas tea with grandma.

#7. Less “Hula Hoop,” more “Holy Night!”

Sometimes I feel like the Grinch at Christmastime when it comes to all the noise, noise, noise, NOISE! The music alone can be a lot to handle. There’s hippos, and who’s, and Muppets, and Peanuts, and chipmunks all there to help send you off your rocking horse and losing your tinsel. I’ve learned that as a mom, I have to pace myself with the noise and volume of things throughout the year and perhaps especially at Christmas. This has mandated that I ration *certain* holiday playlists.

In the spirit of peace in the home, goodwill to mom, here’s our take-a-breather Christmas playlist for a quieter, more wonder-filled season with the kids: Magical Winter Wonderland Playlist

We also made this cozy Christmas playlist for when we all need to just wind things down: “Oh Holy Night” Bedtime Playlist

Enjoy!

#8. Less Santa, more Isaiah!

It’s ok if you’re laughing at me. I know, I know. But friends, our children desperately need truth and meaning in their lives! Without a purpose, without a reason, without a story, all the Christmas festivities in the world are truly just noise and instant gratification. In other words, they create entitled, self-absorbed, self-serving demigods.

So, I remind you as I remind myself . . .

Turn all the screens off and put them away. Light a candle. Read the prophesies of Isaiah. Discuss how the Light of the World came into darkness; how He came not as a king but as a baby and a servant; how he came not to take but to give. Sing Christmas carols. Sit in silence. Watch the snow fall or the lights twinkling on the tree. Sip and snuggle together. Celebrate simply and soulfully the birth of our Savior!

For ideas and inspiration, here’s Our Family’s Favorite Christ-Centered Christmas Traditions!

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Settle and savor the season of our Savior’s birth!

Merry Christmas, dear friends!

Love, Candace Arden

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