This year Christmas Eve and Christmas Day were a little more relaxed. The time was rich and full. Even so, I am not ready to move on from Christmas just yet. It feels like there are more gifts of the spiritual sort still to be unwrapped. And so, with encouragement from
, , and of Signs + Seasons, I’m exploring the tradition of Twelve Days of Christmas.We always make an effort to savor Christmas. But the actual celebration is crammed into such a short one- or two-day window that I invariably wind up feeling exhausted. Sometimes I take on too many things (as I’ve written about here) or feel pressed by the rhythms of the world to jump into New Year plans and be done with Christmas as soon as the wrapping paper goes into the trash can. Do you ever feel like you’re “accomplishing Christmas” rather than enjoying Christmas?
On the Church calendar, “Christmastide” is a whole season, not a single day. It stretches from December 25th to Epiphany (January 5 or January 8, depending on your tradition).
As a 21st-century American protestant, I know only bits and pieces of the liturgical calendar (i.e. the way the Church has traditionally marked out seasons and holy days). But I am drawn to this way of telling time — of orienting the year around a slower, Christ-centered cycle of celebrations and remembrances.
I love the spaciousness of twelve full days for Christmas. It’s a recalibration that fits well with my pursuit of a gentler pace of life for myself and my family. Earlier today, I signed a contract with IVP for a book on just that topic! The working title is Slow Childhood: Small steps toward a soul-sustaining pace for children. It’s a book of small, practical ways to push back against unhealthy pressures, habits, and attitudes about time. They come from my family’s real-life experimentation — our triumphs as well as our frustrations. The point of slowing down the way that we and our kids experience the world is a life with more freedom, more connection, more depth. Slowing makes space for friendship with God to flourish.
I’m thrilled to join IVP as a first-time author. Here on Grapple Pie, I’ll be exploring topics that are adjacent to the book’s theme — like today’s topic: ways a family can experience Christmas at a deeper level.
Of course, there’s nothing magical about the number 12 in the Twelve Days, or about starting and stopping on certain dates. But what we protestants often do to our peril is rebel against “tradition for tradition’s sake” and miss opportunities to participate in tradition for the soul’s sake. The traditions of the Church offer us tried and true ways to nurture a with-God life. And with that in mind, I’ve been experimenting with two practices for Christmastide.
Vigil (Sort of)
Mid-December, I had to take a round of steroids. I kept waking up at 3:30 or 4:00 in the morning, wired. I finally gave up, put on my robe, and came downstairs to sit by the Christmas tree with my Advent devotions and journal. This happened several days in a row. Even though it was excruciating to leave the warm bed behind, what I experienced in these dark hours was a special stillness that made my spirit feel alive. It was a space where God’s presence felt especially near.
Even though I’m a bit of a sleepy head, some of the most sacred, grateful moments of my life passed in the dead of night when it felt as if God and I were the only ones awake, like we were keeping watch together. Vigil is the planned spiritual practice of staying awake during times you would normally sleep to tune into God’s presence and connect with him in prayer.
Vigil doesn’t make the cut on most lists of classical spiritual disciplines.1 It feels a little old-fashioned, or over-the-top, maybe. Modern medicine has taught us the importance of sleep cycles. And conveniences like memory foam and sound machines have turned us into divas about our beauty rest. (Is there a Beatitude here? Blessed are those whose beds aren’t cozy, for they will seek God in the night?).
Sometimes vigil is an all-night-long venture. It can be done in community or alone, and can be combined with practices like prayer and lament. During this Christmas season, I’m practicing a modified form of vigil a few mornings a week —getting up an hour or so before dawn — to spend time with God in the dark.
To me, this waking in the dark feels like a natural fit after celebrating Christ’s birth.
The stillness and solitude of 4 am is something a new mother or father knows well. As the newborn phase wears on, the middle of the night can become a dreaded space. But I remember the quiet thrill of being awake with my brand new baby in the soft lamplight of a midnight feeding, just the two of us. I could hardly believe she was really here, and I couldn’t take my eyes off of her. Her pouty little lips would tremble — a nursing reflex — and then ever so slightly lift into a smile.
I was figuring her out, enthralled by her beautiful, tiny form. To finally see the little one I’d known without seeing — known only through internal movement and expectation and a name — to now behold her with my eyes and hold her in my arms was absolute bliss. What was time? Everything else in the world was exterior to the union between her and me. And I felt that something held us and encircled us. It was more than a force or a feeling. It was the Presence of Holy God.
Rising before dawn while on vacation doesn’t come naturally to me. But I have sensed the invitation to embrace the dark morning hours as a meeting place. Stillness and darkness and the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights wrap me in God’s Presence and reawaken my awe and love for the newborn King.
Kids can be invited into vigil, as well, in developmentally appropriate, modified ways (like going to a candlelight service that goes past bedtime). Remember how special it felt to stay up late when you were a child? For kids, just as for us, darkness and a change of routine or atmosphere can create space for noticing God and experiencing awe. (I’ll be diving into ideas like this in the Slow Childhood book).
A Calendar of Activities Honoring Past, Present, and Future
Sometimes it’s hard to even know what day it is when school and work are out! To give some shape to our days and to keep the Christmas celebration going, I decided that a calendar and some pre-planned activities would help. I grew up counting the days down to the 25th with an Advent calendar. Why not do the same for Christmastide? I asked our 13-year-old, Charlotte, to make us a 12-day calendar with room for sticky notes on each day.2
Next, I wrote out a list of activities with input from the family. These are mostly things we wanted to do anyway, plus a few additions that William and I think will stretch us and enrich the time. A few things on the list warranted scheduling ahead (e.g. a “tiny house” overnight with cousins). But mostly we choose activities from the list in real-time as we go through the day. It isn’t a checklist that we have to accomplish, just a way to have some options visible and ready. At the end of the day, writing the highlights on a sticky note serves as a little examen to help us appreciate the experiences and recognize God’s blessings.3
None of the activities that we’re doing are extraordinary. But I did try to incorporate things that line up with the three ways of keeping Christmas well from Dickens’ A Christmas Carol. They fit loosely into these three categories:
The past — Ways to reflect on beautiful, meaningful, joyful times with gratitude. For example, one of my husband’s gifts to our family was a photo album of the past year. As
reminds us, looking through family photos is a great way to remember and appreciate people, events, and experiences. (The Ghost of Christmas Past ushers Scrooge back through memories of childhood and young adulthood that were joyful, poignant, or marked by connections with loved ones. It has a gracious heart-softening effect, kindling healthy emotion and holy longing).The present — Ways to seize the moment — to rest, play, celebrate, practice charity, and pay special attention to those around us. Even if we’re back to work by the 4th day of Christmas, we can infuse our day with playfulness and tenderness … a game of laser tag while the rice cooks; eating brownies and watching It’s a Wonderful Life; having an at-home date night. (The Ghost of Christmas Present takes Scrooge to peek in on folks celebrating Christmas in different circumstances — at home, at work, in opulent homes, and in hovels. He is swept up in the merriment of some scenes and cut to the heart by the suffering in others. In each instance, Scrooge has a strong desire to enter the circumstances where he finds himself — to join in the celebrating, to speak a word of comfort to someone, or to share material blessings. It awakens his desire to live generously and joyfully in the present moment).
The yet-to-come — Ways to invest in a good future — to make choices today that will give birth down the road to something beautiful that you hope to see in the world … planting bulbs; redecking the halls for Epiphany; writing chapters for a book; planning an adventure for 2024. (The Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come carries Scrooge forward in time to see the natural consequences of his present attitudes and decisions. His current way of life (“grasping, scraping, clutching, covetous”) leads in a dark, miserable direction. But because Scrooge takes the Ghosts’ lessons to heart, revises his theory of what makes for a good life, and commits to living according to God’s way of love, Christ empowers him to sow a different future).
Good Things Yet To Come
Today we are planting the Leucojum bulbs that mom gave me for Christmas. (She gave me bulbs last year too, but I forgot about them until Spring). It struck me that forgotten bulbs are a helpful image of the latent love and maturity I forfeit when I don’t make use of God’s grace (find my little attempt at a poem at the end of this post). His transforming work is free, unearned. But receiving it, growing in grace, requires something from me. Participation. Following. Discipleship... Meeting him in spaces like vigil. Lingering in the celebration of Christmas.
Bringing a book into the world feels like an amazing opportunity to invest in good things “yet to come.” I would appreciate your prayers as I begin that journey. (If you have a book club, podcast, or church group that might be interested in hosting a conversation on the topic, let me know and we’ll get something scheduled!)
For now, I think the Twelve Days structure will be just the training wheels that my wobbly bike needs to move in God’s direction. What are the things that help you move into his grace? I hope you’ll share in the comments.
More soon, friends.
Grace
A few ways to continue thinking about the Twelve Days of Christmas and rhythms of grace:
A beautiful piece by my friend Katelyn Dixon on stillness, “Still, Still, Still.”
Make sure to check in at
for a curated list of other writings on the liturgical season of Christmas and Epiphany.
Earlier this year, Renovaré published True Impressions: Daily Prayers, a resource for developing a rhythm of morning, noon, and nighttime prayer. The print booklet comes with the print shown here — a gorgeous cyanotype by artist Sally Kendrick (@turkeycreekprints). True Impressions is available as a free download, or order printed copies for $8 each.
This excerpt from Jeremy and Monica Chambers’ new book, The Art of Missional Spirituality, invites readers into the historical Christian practice of praying the hours.
And, lastly, here’s the little poem I wrote about last year’s bulbs.
The gift bids an investment, a sowing in faith — hidden work in the dark, long before blooms pop. I meant to get them in the dirt, but I forgot. These things don’t feel too urgent at the time— Don’t push or whine their way up to the top of lists formed haphazardly in hurried minds. But when the days get short and winter waits and cloaks us in her frozen monotony, I’ll dream of green with envy, and then remember: Bulbs in a sleeve — a gift unopened, though received. Roots latent, not extended. Potential stored up, not expended. Abundance freely giv’n, but unbefriended. What other graces have I thus neglected? What’s still unplanted is, alas, rejected.
Thank you for reading! If you missed my introduction to Grapple Pie, find it here.
I’m wondering what you in the reading and practicing community think: Would you consider Vigil a discipline in its own right or more of a sub-category to solitude or silence?
If you want to try this, I recommend letting your kids create the visual elements so that making is part of the fun.
I am not making this into a formal examen, though we have practiced that with the kids here and there. For this experiment, I’m simply letting the sticky note be a visual record of some meaningful parts of the day. This acts as a shield against the “we haven’t done anything today” illusion that kids (and grown-ups) can slip into when we fail to reflect on what transpired and nurtures a more grateful, God-aware outlook.
Grace, I'm so happy to have found a fellow Protestant who's discovered/discovering the liturgies of the church calendar. When I began writing online in 2012 I was introduced to the liturgical calendar through other writers outside my own denomination and oh my goodness, what a richness. THe practices and intentions have done nothing but add to my life.... Traditions and rituals can be a good thing.
And to your 'vigil' question, I'm happy to now have a word to use for my waking-up-at-3am-I-might-as-well-pray times. Thanks for asking :-)
Your new book sounds perfectly timed and oh so needed--congratulations!
Oh my, I LOVE the prompt calendar for Christmastide!
Thanks so much for the shout-out - it's such a joy & comfort to get to learn about all these traditions alongside folks like you. And congrats on your book contract!!!