I’m not a big fan of Christmas cards. Something about spending hours writing little notes and signing the family name at the bottom of an inevitably cheesy piece of card stock and sending them en masse to loved ones under the guise of personalized, acute affection just always seemed … bad … to me.
Of course the other edge of the sword is that one is, somehow, obligated to do just that. Especially having sprung oneself from the “nest.” Adulthood and financial freedom obligate Americans every December to cutesy (and unoffensive) snowflake stamps, brushing up our calligraphy, family photos in the snow, and impersonal greetings. In the name of Jesus – because our bumpers affirm we need to Keep Christ in Christmas this time of year.
So this December I will oblige (it’s my second Christmas as a married woman so I’m setting myself up to be the proverbial black sheep of the family if I don’t). I’ve decided, though, that I will not give in to box sets or gold foil. Ours will be handcrafted with love, thus combating all that is aloof, commercial, and hypocritical about the Christmas card industry. Your grandchildren will thank me for their freedom.
I’ve drawn up a list and begun construction. Six down, about 20 to go. Here is a sample of what I’ve got so far:
