Christmas in October
There are few things more seasonally appropriate than a rousing round of “Away in the Manger” (unless, of course, it’s “Deck the Halls”). Seasonally appropriate if the season is December—and not October.
I have long since placed a strict moratorium on Christmas carols before Thanksgiving. I rigidly decorate no earlier than the Friday after Thanksgiving, and I’ll be dead and buried before I agree to bust out holiday music before then. Ask me how serious I am about this? I have a Thanksgiving playlist to threaten the members of my household any time they try to break the rules. It has such classics as Adam Sandler’s “Thanksgiving Song” and ABBA’s “Thank You For the Music”.
In other words, it is a legitimate threat.
However (and you sensed this “however” coming from a mile away), this year I made the sanity choice to finally outsource the kids’ piano lessons. The four younger kids get thirty minutes (well, Twinkle is holding strong at fifteen) every week with a very sweet piano teacher who comes to our house, thereby granting me almost a full two hours to teach kids one-on-one, proof papers, fold laundry, build lesson plans, and take deep cleansing breaths (in through the nose, out through the mouth).
Naturally, this piano teacher also plans a yearly Christmas recital. And spends a good two months prepping her students so that they will feel confident, make a good showing, and not immediately quit piano, deciding to start the new year with a new hobby (like karate or underwater basket weaving).
This means that she has already assigned Christmas carols to my children. And they are obligated to practice them, day in and day out, while I mourn the loss of autumn and the early advent of Christmas.
But here’s the thing: I get it. Practicing before Halloween (while your mother grouses and makes sarcastic comments before correcting your tempo from the couch) means you’re ready for Christmas.
It makes me wonder what other things I should be practicing ahead of time.
Admittedly, it was handy learning how to change diaper after diaper after diaper before I had twins, for example. It was useful knowing how to make friends and say goodbye to them and then make more friends (and then say goodbye to them) before I married into the military. And all the miles I ran during training sure helped me be prepared when I ran my half-marathons.
Because the truth is that it’s not “practice makes perfect” but “practice makes prepared.”
And if that’s the truth, then the follow up question is: what do I want to be prepared for?
Right now I feel a deep need to be prepared for parenting the teenage years. Thankfully, I have plenty of children who allow me to practice on their eye rolls, sarcasm, and disrespectfully muttered throw away snark.
Before we moved, I felt the need to be prepared to dress appropriately for being back in the squadron. A friend helped me trade in my ripped jeans and ink-stained t-shirts for slightly more acceptable clothing. Unfortunately, I kept my old shredded jeans and wore them in the safety of my own home, not remembering the base reality where people drop by at unexpected hours and find you looking like you’ve just recovered from a bad cold or some seriously challenging manual labor (when all you’ve really done is sit on the couch ordering your herd of children around).
But lately, I’ve found myself asking how I’m preparing for heaven. Not getting myself there—I know Who has that under control and it’s not me—but the reality of being there. And no, that’s not long white robes, fluffy angel wings, and perfectly tuned harps.
It’s life changing freedom. It’s recognizing and celebrating who God is. It’s prayer and praise and thanksgiving without ever getting worn out or worn down or worn thin.
It’s not Boy Scout good deeds or resting on the laurels of our own righteousness. No, it is reveling in being with the One who matters most.
And how can I prepare for that now? By practicing. Not practicing for perfection (we’re not going to get there in this world), but practicing for preparation.
When we open our eyes to see the beauty of the full moon rising, we marvel at God’s creativity—and we prepare for heaven. When we set our alarms early for a half hour of prayer, we prioritize time with Him—and we prepare for heaven. When we look for ways to say thank You—even on the hard days—we celebrate God’s sovereign goodness—and we prepare for heaven.
And sometimes it will feel like hammering out Christmas music in October: too early, frustratingly annoying, ill-timed, purposeless. But today’s practice may take us one step closer to being fully prepared to enjoy Christ forever.
