One week from today starts advent season. The things I don’t do at Christmas have earned me more than one finger wag or head shake. “But what about the magic?!” people exclaim to me.
Listen, I may not be one for pushing the status quo, but let’s talk about that one thing I do manage to do.
Every day for advent I let my kids do crafts for our tree. We aren’t talking your run of the mill paper, tape, maybe-even-markers-if-you-won’t-color-your-face crafts. We are talking scissors, glue, paint, and, yes, even glitter kind of crafts.
Which, of course, is magical around here because the other eleven months out of the year I send them outside and tell them to use the mud if they want to paint, but don’t bring it in this house. I love advent crafts because it gives us time to get focused, in what is quite possibly the most distracted season of the year.
But that glitter. I’m already praying for my sanity for the next month, and even at that I’m only praying that God will restore it when it’s all over, because I feel sure there is no hope of maintaining it during the making of those Prince of Peace crowns. Because those little jars of glitter? Should come with warning labels…
The glitter contained in this jar may multiply at a rate of 1 to 100 and spontaneously erupt. Use caution with children. Possible side effects include sparkles in the eyes, hands flailing wildly about, the shedding of glitter for up to two months, bodily orifices clogged with glitter, and the inability to hear or follow instructions while under the influence of glitter.
All that glitters may not be gold, but it probably did get glitter on it, can I get an Amen?
‘Tis the season to be sparkly.