Christmas time makes me emotional. I don't know why, but something about all my memories from past Christmases as well as my expectations for future Christmases just all combust into one emotional me.
That is not to say that I don't love the Christmas season; I do. I love the carols, the lights, the cookies, the wish lists, the Christmas movies and concerts, but for some reason that does not culminate in me loving Christmas day. I imagined having that perfect Christmas that new couples always effortlessly seem to have: the Christmas photo (ideally of their wedding) sent out in the mail, that perfect 5 foot + tree dripping with white lights, that Christmas party, that ugly Christmas sweater, a HOMe ALONe movie marathon, those perfect gaudy jingle bell earrings. Yeah, we didn't really have any of those things.
But Rob and I did in fact enjoy spending the day together, (once I got over my emotional hiccup). I was so thankful to have him help me get things ready for hosting. I loved exchanging Christmas presents with him, and ultimately, we had two wonderful celebration times with our families. And one highly important tradition was preserved--reading the story of Christ's birth and ultimately remembering that HE alone is why we celebrate Christmas and all the other things are just cultural expectations we put on ourselves and unfairly put on what should be a sacred day.