If you walk into my Christmas house you’d notice one thing.
Well, actually, you might notice a lot of things. But after you looked at the blue and white rug and the pillows and the ornaments and the stockings and the greenery and Buddy snoring and my dolphin clapping? You’d notice the one thing that truly stands out.
There are TONS of twinkles.
It’s as if generations of Christmas twinkle lights got together and had a family reunion and showed up at our house with RVs and smores and camping equipment and decided to spend Christmas here. There are twinkles on the wreaths and twinkles on the trees and twinkles on the mantel and twinkles on the hutch and the bookcases and the front porch and the back porch and the staircase and the kitchen island.
Just between us?
It’s a lot.
I get it.
But you see? I can’t help it. Christmas only comes once a year and I love a Christmas house that’s full of extra twinkles.
And just when I thought I couldn’t love those twinkles anymore?
Here’s the thing about twinkles.
Someone has to turn them on.
I have some of the trees on timers and some of the lights on timers. But someone has to turn on the gingerbread houses and someone has to turn on the lights behind the houses and someone has to click the buttons on the staircase lights and someone has to make sure the timer on the faux candles is on.
Twinkle turner-on-er is a full-time job.
And for years that’s been my job.
And I love it.
Truly, I do. I go from room to room and talk to all the Christmas decorations and the reindeer and the pillows and the stockings and celebrate a new day with all of them.
Waking up the house is so much fun. But sometimes all that fun can be a little overwhelming—especially when I’m running late (which is 95% of the time) or I’m on a deadline.
Then? The fun loses a little of its luster.
So this year after I got everything decorated, I prepared myself for the first twinklefull morning.
I set an extra early alarm because I had a full day and I wanted to make sure everything was twinkle-ready before the day started.
The next morning I stumbled out of bed with bleary eyes and headed downstairs to wake up the house.
But when I rounded the corner?
I couldn’t believe my eyes.
The house WAS LIT.
Every hutch and bookcase and staircase and gingerbread house and tree and wreath and village was ready for the Christmas day ahead.
I couldn’t believe it.
What in the world?
At that moment my favorite elf in the entire world–-you know—the one with the twinkling brown eyes who stole my heart back when stirrup pants ruled the world—walked around the corner.
That grin said it all. He’d gotten up early to get the house ready. He’d known about the day and all the busy ahead of me and he didn’t want to add one more thing to my plate so he’d made sure all the Christmas was good to go.
My heart melted.
I looked around and sighed with joy.
And right there in the middle of my Christmas kitchen surrounded by a dazzling array of holiday lights, I think I fell a little bit more in love with him.
Blame it on the twinkles. 🙂
photo credit: Kenna Lynn Photography