Burnt cookies. Splenda cookies. Spritz cookies. Date cookies. Chocolate dipped pretzel sticks.Sugar cookies. Stained glass cookies. Reindeer cookies with pretzel antlers and M&M noses. All of these are memories imprinted on the Christmas cookie reel of time spent in the kitchen with my Mom. Some were delicious, some cute, and others were just kind of kooky looking.
My Mom bought Family Circle magazines, Taste of Home, and all of those craft and cooking themed magazines you see at the checkout stand. She would go through them and cut out ideas and plans that seemed interesting to her. We weren’t a Martha Stewart family, it was something more freewheeling and chaotic. More joyful, more eclectic, and an entire drawer in the kitchen dedicated to crazy cookie/treat projects around Christmas time. Like Christmas with the Kranks meets Hallmark movie magic all wrapped together in the joy of over-the-top projects.
Perfectionism was never the goal.
As I went through my Mom’s cookbooks this last weekend I found a scrap of paper that first listed a recipe at the top probably found online or in a magazine. Below was a list of ways to watch Don Quixote movies online for her classroom. A list of student grades was printed on the other side. It breathed the life she lived. Written in ink but also written on her loved one’s hearts.
Some aspects of the Holidays are getting easier. One is expectations, I no longer except smooth sailing, and have more reasonable understanding of my own limitations. I now know that a good cry is better than trying to shove it down and actually allows more room for me to enjoy the simple stuff like frosting cookies, picking out a tree, and lighting the advent candles at church.
Perfectionism, with grief, should never be the goal.
It’s a little messy. The frosting melts, the recipe gets spilled on, every surface of the kitchen is dusted with flour and candy scraps crunch under your toes. You have to be ok with the messiness. And for me, it’s important to not stop creating. Creating a way to remember memories, a way forward.
Joshua 1:9 New International Version (NIV)
9 Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the Lord your God will be with you wherever you go.”
What Does Cookie Cutter Grief Look Like?
Sometimes I hear oppressive “cookie cutter” grief ideas seep into my head — “Just get over it.” Or “it’s been three and half years, shut up now” “it’s not a big deal.” This kind of thinking can make me belief that finding these scraps of her past life are the only way to remember her.
“Cookie Cutter” Grief:
-
Compare yourself to others to make sure you’re “doing it right.”
-
Expect things to follow a linear pattern.
-
Rigid and inflexible expectations of yourself and others.
Go ahead, throw out the cookie cutters. The uniform shapes that are trying to cut up your life. Telling you to segment your pain into pieces and that it should look a “certain way.” The one that rushes towards quick fixes and easy answers. The sharp metals edges hemming you in, instead of giving you room to breathe.
Freeform grieving is eschewing perfectionism and embracing the spills, the burns, and the heat of life’s obstacles. Healthy grieving mixes all of the ingredients together and says, “I don’t have to change everything that’s wrong. I don’t need to find the answers today, I just need to bring some goodness to somebody’s life, even if that person is just me for now.”
Not every moment needs to be heavy. Not every moment needs to be light.
we get it, Grief is hard, so What?
The more I hide my pain the more it tries to define me. Not all of my issues are because of losing my Mom. But it is the extract that definitely flavors a lot of my recipes, the strength and hope I carry in my mixing bowl.
She fits into my new life. The one that moves forward. I can take her old cookie cutters; a mix of glossy red and green, metal, and clear vintage pink plastic to make my own recipes. There’s plenty of room for the old and the new memories.
Intense love does not measure, it just gives. — Mother Teresa
So go ahead, put an apron around your waist, beat the ish out of the batter, and feel the creative spirit hum through your fingers as you step up to the counter to do battle with your demons.
Merry Christmas, all you wonderful, brave, and strong people who read this. I’ve got a plate of cookies for you.
___
**WANT MORE?**
If you liked this blog post, chances are you’ll really like the holiday devotional, A Season of Hidden Stars. It’s free when you subscribe to my website and comes straight to your inbox.
We’ll be going through it together in a daily email the week leading up to Christmas (Dec 20-26th)! Subscribers will get exclusive access to photos, extra reflections, and a facebook group if interested. Excited to walk through this together!!
What People Have Said about A Season Hidden Stars: Holiday Devotional for the Brokenhearted so far:
“It’s deep but not heavy. Sweet but not trite. Give it a try!
” I sent it to [all of] my small group gals…”
“Seriously, so good. Thought provoking, daily challenges, and scripture!”
“It’s beautiful, Katrina.”