Reports From The Nursery (Part Thirteen)

By Alexis, In Her Own Words

Admittedly, I don’t have much practical experience of what everybody down here on earth calls “Christmas.” After all, this is only the second time I’ve experienced it— and the first time around, I was still disoriented from my transition from “pending delivery to human existence” from the pure spirit I was while awaiting that trip.

This time around, though, I’m settled in enough to draw some definite conclusions —or maybe just defensible comparisons— between Christmas here versus Christmas Up There.

Okay, first off, let’s get something straight: simply stated, Christmas in heaven is nothing like the chaotic decor that’s going on down here. Don’t get me wrong: I’m all for omnipresent strings of twinkling lights, marshmallow-loaded hot cocoa, and a near-irresistible impulse to eat an entire gingerbread house (yep, the whole house, though Mom and Dad police that pretty intensely now… particularly after my destructive experience with tree-hung peppermint candy canes).

Heaven’s Christmas? Totally different vibe. And, yeah, I would know.

Let me paint you a picture: Heaven’s Christmas is calm. Like, serene calm. Not “Oh no, I need to defrost the turkey or we’re eating microwaved pizza” calm—I mean actual peace and joy. No one’s frantically clicking through online sales at 2 a.m. or fighting over the hottest new toy in the aisle. In heaven, there’s no such thing as last-minute shopping because, well, they don’t really “shop.” No one’s screaming “Where did I put that gift receipt?” since… there are no gifts. Because in heaven, everything is a gift.

I know. Wild concept, right?

Since I know this is what you want to ask—- no, heaven does not have a Santa. Sorry, Santa fans, but the big jolly guy doesn’t fit into the heavenly Christmas aesthetic. I’ve heard people down here talk about how “Santa” is Old St. Nick.

Nope. I know St. Nick. St. Nick is a friend of mine. And you, sir —in your obviously phony beard and padded red suit that smells vaguely of jolly Old Spice (and maybe a wee bit of cheap whiskey) … well, you’re no St. Nick.

Up there, the celebration is all about Jesus. I mean, duh: It’s his birthday. Nobody stresses about hanging stockings, or who’s on the naughty list: if you’re on the “naughty list,” you’re likely spending the holiday in a much warmer climate.

Instead, heaven celebrates the whole “God becoming human to save the world” -thing. You know: the original reason for the season, before people got distracted by peppermint mochas, ugly sweater parties, and stores making their goal during the holiday shopping season. It’s kind of refreshing, honestly, not having to worry about whether some dude called Santa is going to judge me for accidentally eating my cousin's Advent calendar chocolate. (Sorry about that. It was calling my name, y’know?)

Here on earth, Christmas is like a giant competition: Who has the best decorations? Who gives the coolest presents? Whose ugly sweater is so ugly it’s kind of jaw-dropping awesome?

Not in heaven. Christmas isn’t about showing off or outdoing anyone. It’s more like this immense, celestial sing-along-hootenanny where everyone’s just happy to …be. Think less “Black Friday at the mall” and more “choir of angels harmonizing so beautifully it makes you cry.” (Honestly, it’s almost unfair. I mean, how are humans supposed to compete with literal angels? I’m told that I have a wail that makes a high C note sound like Barry White— but I can barely hit the high note in “All I Want for Christmas Is You” without sounding like a cat that wandered too close to the fireplace.)

And don’t get me started on decorations. Down here, people cover their houses in so many lights you’d think they’re trying to be seen from space. (And maybe they are. Take me to your leader, Mr. Clark Griswold Wannabe.)

Instead, there’s this incredible golden glow everywhere, and its not from LED. It’s just… light. Warm, golden, cozy light. Imagine the prettiest sunset you’ve ever seen, but it’s all around you and it doesn’t fade-to-black after five minutes.

Oh, and there’s glitter. So much glitter. Not the cheap craft store kind that sticks to your skin for six years (earth glitter is as close to immortal as you can get, given its longevity), but sparkly, magical, weightless glitter that floats in the air like tiny fireflies. Honestly, earth Christmas decorations are a bit of a disappointment after you’ve seen Heaven’s version. It’s like comparing preschooler’s macaroni art to the Sistine Chapel.

Food? Let’s talk about food. Down here, Christmas is all about feasting, right? From cookies to candy canes and mashed potatoes to ham, to more cookies… if it’s edible and vaguely festive, humans are eating it. In heaven, they don’t do big meals. No one’s actually hungry there (which is still hard to recollect because my earthly body is always hungry).

Instead, there is this incredible feast of… feelings. Emotions. Sensations. An overwhelming tsunami of warmth and love. Yeah, I know how weird that sounds, but stick with me. It’s like you’re filled up with peace, love, and joy. . . a billion times better than the best chocolate chip cookie. (And that’s saying something, because cookies are my love language.) Plus, there’s no cleanup. Down here, I’ve seen family members declare war over who’s doing the dishes. Heaven? No dishes and no war, not since Morningstar got his tail whipped by St. Michael, Enough said.

Now, about the music. Earth has Mariah Carey blasting on repeat, and everybody from Burl Ives to Elvis to Bing Crosby belting out Good Cheer. But, up in heaven; Angels remain the headline acts.

Up there, there is a calming peace. Down here, Christmas is all hustle and bustle. People are stressed, traffic is stressed, budgets are stressed, and everyone’s trying to do a million things at once. In Heaven, it’s the exact opposite. There’s no stress. Everyone’s just genuinely, peacefully happy.

One of the weirdest things about heavenly Christmas is the gifts. Or, more accurately, the lack of them. On earth, Christmas is all about presents giving them, getting them, wrapping them, unwrapping them. It’s the whole thing. In heaven, it’s about the presence of others, there are no physical gifts. Instead, people… share. Like, they share laughter, songs, and love.

I know, I know: it sounds super cheesy, but it’s actually a really beautiful thing. Imagine the best hug you’ve ever gotten, but it lasts for hours, and you don’t have to awkwardly pull away because someone’s arm is falling asleep. No wrapping paper wars, no weird gifts you have to fake-smile about (“Oh, socks, how did you know?”). Just pure… connection.

And then there’s the guest list. On earth, we’re stuck with our families, which is great if your relatives are awesome but… uh, not so great if Aunt Heather’s been into the eggnog and is starting another debate about politics.

In heaven, everyone gets along. No awkward conversations, no drama, no passive-aggressive comments about your outfit. It’s just pure, unfiltered love. Moreover, you get to hang out with some seriously cool people. Like, “Oh hey, David, great shot on Goliath,” or “What’s up, Mary, where’s the birthday boy?”  It’s a solid crowd, a room full of “besties.” (Still: honestly, I’m a little bummed I couldn’t stay up there long enough to ask Noah for sailing lessons. Missed opportunity.)

And I’ll admit, I miss heavenly Christmas. The peace, the joy, the love… It’s hard to top.

But you know what? Earth’s Christmas has its own kind of magic. Sure, it’s messy and chaotic and sometimes more stressful than it needs to be, but it’s also full of a special type of grace. It’s amazing how humans can come together, even amid the craziness, to celebrate. Whether it’s singing carols, baking cookies, or watching way too many Hallmark movies (not to be a critic, but even one might qualify as “too many”) there’s a special kind of love in all the imperfect, earthly traditions.

So, yeah, Heaven’s Christmas might be fancier and more peaceful, but earth’s Christmas has its own charm. And who knows? Maybe we’re meant to take a little bit of that Heavenly peace and joy and sprinkle it into our celebrations down here.

Anyway, I’ve got to go—there’s a candy cane hanging low enough on the tree and a gift with my name on it.

Merry Christmas, to all, and to all a good night!

— end —

(EDITOR’S NOTE: Alexis and her musings will return to these pages in future editions.

Check with her later, most likely after Boxing Day. She’ll be busy until then.)