The Only Kind of Holiday Magic That Counts

Put down the ceramic reindeer. Just set it down and kick it over to me!

Are you feeling pressured to make this holiday magical? Well, I'm here to tell you: Don't.

I mean, it's just that simple, isn't it? Oh, sure! But bear with me.

Perhaps you have been seduced by the allure of perfectly-curated, Chip-and-Joanna holiday decorating magic. Hey, it happens! That seductive approach promises that we, too, can have the same glossy, airbrushed perfection that seems to illuminate their whole lives, if only we make that extra effort to wrap little bows made of twine around sprigs of holly with our place cards at dinner. Or if we give our familiar and beloved ornaments a rest this year, and decorate our trees in brand-new, sleek deer ornaments instead. Or if we invest in a dozen red and black Buffalo-checked place mats that will never be used again. Or if we replace our mismatched, stretched-out stockings with sleek, cable-knit models in Instagrammy winter white.

And the list goes on! There's an explosion of expensive, nearly-imperceptible aesthetic "improvements" we could make that would, ostensibly, transform our holidays from "Lovely!" to "Whoa!" It's a tempting and strong form of magic, to be sure - though, of course, not strong enough to actually work. 

Maybe you're feeling pressure to maintain the magic of Santa Claus. American culture holds that this selfless chap spends his every year up at the North Pole, fearlessly leading an incredibly versatile army of elf artisans. Santa, we explain, keeps track of what every single participating child wants, filtering these wishes through a terrifyingly Orwellian database of addresses, home entry points, and notes about behavior. 

Then, his remarkable labor force expertly crafts not just dolls and wooden toys, but also the latest electronics and fashions. This they do with such virtuosity that the finished products are virtually indistinguishable from their Nintendo, Apple, Michael Kors, or Yeezy counterparts. But that's not all! Just when his job gets really crazy, the elves retire for some hard-earned hot cocoa, and Old Saint Nick takes over. With the help of his trusty team of flying reindeer, Santa himself seamlessly and unfailingly delivers each of the toys to its One True Owner. Amazon has nothing on this guy - Santa gets every single toy to children all over the world, over the course of a single night. 

I've got to say, that would be some magic, all right. 

Perhaps your children are getting old enough to develop some critical thinking skills. Have you ever been tempted to somehow fashion reindeer prints in the snow outside, to convince your kids that Rudolph has, indeed, made an appearance? Or maybe your little ones leave milk and cookies for Santa (or a beer), which you later gratefully snarf down, desperately thankful for a midnight moment of quiet? Then, the next day, you point to it as evidence? 

I see you.

Or maybe the magic you're feeling pressure to create is of a more commercial variety. This is not a fun place to be, but another very common stumbling block. Sometimes, you might spend more on one person's gifts then on another person's. There might be the same amount of presents, but at a wildly different cost. Conversely, you might have spent your budget for one person on one or two really nice things you know they'll love, but another giftee is to receive four or five items equaling that cost. Even if you started shopping in July, meditating excessively on this might cause you to embark upon a nightmarish, eleventh-hour trip to Target or even Walgreens, hoping to find two or three more knickknacks to make things appear to shake out a little more evenly. 

You don't need to do that.

Look, I totally understand. I grew up in a family in which Christmas was a biiiig production. I understand wanting every element to be ideal. From soup to nuts, from holly-bedecked place cards to equivalent numbers of presents, perfection beckons. I mean, don't you want your family to have magical holiday memories? What are you, a monster?

Of course not. But this is no way to approach a time of year that should be a celebration of joy and gratitude!

First, stressing yourself out like this to achieve a magazine-spread level of aesthetic perfection will ruin your own holiday. Second, it's okay for your children to learn that Santa Claus and his North Pole consumer-products conglomerate are not real. In exchange for that knowledge, they get to become Santa Claus, along with the rest of us, for the little ones. And that is even more fun to believe in, not least because it is real. 

Last, calm down. Your mother-in-law will not be offended if she gets one very nice gift and your father-in-law gets two gifts that are its equal. (At least, she shouldn't be: if she is, send her over to me.) And your kids will be too busy unwrapping to count how many items their cousin Madysyn opened. 

In short, your family will be so excited with everything that is there that they won't notice what isn't. And this excitement, this togetherness, is what makes Christmas so enchanting.

But if you insist on experiencing real, unadulterated, pure holiday magic, the kind that sends a silver chill up your spine and golden warmth spilling into your heart, here's how to find it.

Late at night, when you have sung the songs and lit the candles; when you've baked the cookies and unwrapped the presents; when the guests have gone home and you've taken off those silly heels or that stupid sweater, take a moment by yourself.

Gaze at the lights on the tree, or at the stars twinkling in the sky. Think about how happy you've been. Think about how blessed you are. Then look up.

Even indoors, even in Florida or California, there will come a feeling of snow-heavy stillness when the here-and-now is sucked away. You will wonder at it. And in a single moment, as that atmosphere-less quiet crescendos, you will feel God. At least, I do. 

So I can tell you: that's real magic.