It’s that time of year when the stress of the Christmas Season starts to creep up on us, and it mysteriously pulls joy right out of our brains.  Shopping, cooking, wrapping presents, and family dynamics are enough to turn anyone into a scrooge.

We had a super warm winter day recently of 46 degrees. No parkas, long underwear, scarves and gloves were needed.  Yipee! Time to hang the Christmas lights.

Our neighborhood decorates the avenue trees with green lights on the trunk, and red lights throughout the branches.  It’s a beautiful winter wonderland where hundreds of trees are decorated.  There is one problem…most of our neighbors have two trees to decorate and we have a corner lot, which provides the opportunity to decorate SIX trees!

After two hours of hanging lights with my husband, we were lofting fireballs of criticism at each other about the “right” way to hang lights that could have melted any remaining snow on the ground.  Then my husband started whistling Jingle Bells, and I cracked up.

Rather than become relational scrooges during the Christmas season, I asked my husband if I should hire a handyman to help me hang our lights next year. No, he’d prefer to whistle Jingle Bells and watch me laugh.