Humbled for the Holidays
How Christmas in the Camper Sparked
a Reminder of the Reason for the Season
Kimberly Smith
The Ashland Beacon
Oh, the weather outside is… well, not too bad. It’s the season of sweaters, twinkling lights, and holiday cheer—though, let’s be real, some things have changed over the years. Like our chances of a white Christmas, which are slowly slipping away with each passing year. But one thing that’s certainly on the rise is stress. Back when I was a kid, Christmas meant a few weeks off from school to spend time with family. Then, we’d return to class in the new year and share our Christmas hauls—for about 15 minutes, before moving on to the next thing.
These days, though, the holiday season feels like a constant race to keep up with social media. The pressure to make everything perfect—from gifts to meals to matching onesies—leaves us over-stretched and wondering: did we do enough? Were there enough gifts? Were the onesies Instagram-worthy enough to prove we’ve got it all together, even if we haven’t seen our high school classmates in 15 years?
I was one of those moms, trying my hardest to make sure my sons, Christopher and Remington, had everything they could possibly want under the tree. Christopher, now a grown man, made it through 19 Christmas seasons without needing therapy, but my 12-year-old Remington was still in the “Mom must make everything perfect” phase.
So, when my world came crashing down last year and my marriage fell apart before my eyes, one of my first thoughts was, What will social media say about this? Can I pull myself together by Christmas? How could I make everything look normal as quickly as possible? I wanted to wave a magic wand and erase the mess before my boys realized that I wasn’t perfect.
At 35 years old, I found myself standing on my parents' porch, trying to figure out what to do next. My parents had retired and downsized to a cozy two-bedroom house, with an adorable little “spare bedroom” out back—a camper. So, I moved Remington into the spare bedroom, and I took up residence in the camper. There I sat each night, feeling like my big, beautiful life had shrunk down to just 100 square feet of space.
But then, as life tends to do, it picked me up and dusted me off. We found our rhythm while my parents healed our hearts with home-cooked meals and sweet talks by the fire. We worked on finding our identity as a new family unit, and before I knew it, the holidays were right around the corner. My mom was ready to fill our hearts with some festive cheer, even if the sadness wasn’t quite gone. And so, in came the Christmas tree.
Now, I love Christmas—it's my absolute favorite holiday. I look forward to decorating the tree, hanging up the lights, and baking up a storm (my double chocolate cookies and my mom's famous Christmas punch are a must). But there I was, not even wanting to send out Christmas cards. My tree and ornaments were packed away in storage, and it just didn’t feel like Christmas. I couldn’t bring myself to help my mom decorate her house.
It quickly became clear: I needed to get my act together. I had to give my kids the Christmas they deserved. But what could I give them? I didn’t have the energy to raid the storage unit and relive the memories packed away in those bins.
Then I had a realization: The tree, the ornaments, and the gifts didn’t matter nearly as much as I thought they did. It wasn’t about the things I could give them, or even about having my own kitchen to bake in. My mama’s kitchen would do just fine. What mattered was the time we spent together—the way my kids saw me working hard to build a new life for us. What mattered was that they were happy and safe, enjoying the season. Together, we learned that the real reason for the season is about celebrating the birth of Christ and being thankful for the blessings we already have.
In ten years, my boys won’t remember what gifts they got on Christmas morning. But they will remember the puzzles we worked on together, the Christmas movies we watched while sipping cocoa, and the time we spent with Nana and Papa—decorating their house and celebrating the season. They’ll remember the warmth in their hearts as we gathered to celebrate the birth of Christ, and the joy of simply being together.
This year, we’ve found our footing. We’ve got a new house that we love, a rambunctious spaniel named Maple (who drives us absolutely bonkers), and the tree is back up, just like old times. Well, sort of. It’s different, but I’m learning to embrace that change isn’t always a bad thing. So, what if the decorations don’t fit the new house the way they did the old one? The kids are happy, the dog is... Maple, and our home is full of love, laughter, and impromptu wrestling matches between brothers.
In the end, what really matters isn’t anything I thought mattered when the boys were small. Moving forward, my goal is simple: To make sure my family understands why we celebrate Christmas, that they feel loved and safe, and that we are making memories that will last a lifetime. Whether that makes me look cool on social media? That’s going to have to take a backseat.
Imagine a holiday season without the stress of overspending, where you can cozy up to a Christmas movie, decorate together, maybe even learn to make hot cocoa bombs while singing Joy to the World, and enjoy a meal together—no matter what your family looks like. Take photos along the way and remember: What you have today may not be there next year. Whether you’re in a camper or a mansion, it doesn’t matter.
So, let’s make it a point to talk about our blessings, and be thankful for what we have this season. Who knows? You might find yourself crying over Christmas in a camper, just like I did. And guess what? That, too, is a blessing. Because there are so many people with nowhere to go. That tiny camper in my parent’s yard helped get me to where I am today reading a Christmas card from a loved one, as the fire crackles in the background. And honestly, I wouldn’t have been humbled for the holidays if I hadn’t spent nine months in that little camper that I came to love.
Happy Holidays, everyone. Embrace the season.