I get a little weird every December. A bit itchy. Out of sorts. For sure seasonal depression is a giant contributor to my mood, but it doesn’t entirely explain why I feel like my soul is wearing ill-fitting, scratchy clothes. The month contains two rather large celebrations on the Tredway Family Calendar: my birthday and Jesus’s. And there are so many traditions—which I love—and lights and delicious foods and smells. It’s almost sensory overload, but most of the time I’m down for that kind of fun.

No, the weirdness is connected to the church and to the celebration of the Advent season. We spend a lot of time counting down the days until Jesus is born. Every year, every single year this is our tradition. I finally put my finger on the weirdness of it this year and it’s that we’re all pretending, to a certain degree. We are REMEMBERING something. Something big. Something earth-shattering and life-defining. The world was marked when God became man. Marked with a giant indelible marker, all creation shifted. My discomfort with the month is the same discomfort that kept leading my mind to considering Easter in the middle of the all the red and green plaid and the scent of evergreen. Christians, we live out Christmas and Easter EVERY SINGLE DAY.

The birth of God as a man is celebrated in our spirits every single day.

The death and resurrection of God as a man is celebrated within us every single day.

We are Christmas and Easter celebrants every time our lungs take a deep breath and every time we blink.

Perhaps this explains my December itchies. It all feels a little off to sing with gusto the Advent songs and then quit singing them on December 25, as though that day ends the party. It feels strange to light a candle of waiting, and another of joy, and yet another of peace, when truly, every day we might light a candle with those names as we mediate on who Jesus was and how his birth, death, and resurrection has perfectly covered our sins.

However I feel in December—which really doesn’t matter much—I don’t want to let go of the sweetness of Christmas or the devastation of Good Friday or the utter and complete joy of Resurrection Sunday. All those events are knocking around in my heart daily. Jesus is with me daily through his Spirit. I carry his birth, death, and resurrection in my spirit because, no matter what month is is, I believe that he is the Son of God and that his sacrifice gives me life. Life forever.

Do I think we should ditch a full month of anticipating the Christ child’s birth? Absolutely not. If anything, I’d advocate for Christians to become way better at remembering. We could probably use more traditions, more attention to the historic church calendar, more singing at the top of our lungs and more wrapping gifts to create memories for our children. If Christmas and Easter actually do live within us, life is worth celebrating indeed.