When my kids were growing up in the 80’s and 90’s, I was into Christmas big time! Every square inch of my living room was filled with Christmas. I was a perfectionist--the lights had to be strung just so, the shepherds in the Nativity scene had to perfectly counterbalance the three wise men. Christmas music played non-stop Advent to Epiphany--Bing Crosby, Johnny Mathis, Little Drummer Boy, I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas.

By the time Beth and Sara were teens I had overdosed them on Christmas. When I got the boxes out to decorate, they couldn't disappear fast enough. They'd roll their eyes and groan if they accidentally walked in on me hanging pictures of them as toddlers with Santa and loudly singing Frosty the Snow Man along with Burl Ives. They had to endure their mom freaking out over Christmas until they moved out.

This year, there was a new development. We had to celebrate Christmas two days before Thanksgiving because their schedules wouldn't allow either of them to be here for Christmas.

In my orderly Christmas world, we have Thanksgiving, then Advent, and then 12 days of Christmas. The idea of Christmas before Thanksgiving is like putting on shoes before socks. I couldn't fathom it.

For the first time ever, I couldn't get myself in the mood to decorate. I didn't even want to move furniture to put the tree in the living room, so I planned to place it on the porch in front of the window.

Sara came into town the day before our Christmas dinner, and I still didn't have the tree up. She offered to help. We laid out the boxes of ornaments. She stopped and turned to me. "Do you want to turn on some Christmas music?"

"No, that's OK. This won't take long. It's just a small, pre-lit tree."

"Yes, let's have music," she insisted. She got the bluetooth speakers, logged onto Pandora and searched until she found a Christmas station with music she knew I'd like, and turned up the volume.

She suggested we hang only the ornaments that mean something--like the crocheted snowflakes I made 40 years ago, and the ones we got from my dear, deceased sister-in-law. I placed an angel on the top that was too heavy, and Sara pointed to a row of lights that had gone out, but none of that mattered. I was just happy in the moment.

We got the tree up, hung the stockings, and had a wonderful, laughter-filled Christmas celebration when Beth and her husband arrived the next day.

Christmas, then Thanksgiving and now Advent. Our tree still stands in all its imperfection, beaming all kinds of Christmas cheer and love.