What Do You Want for Christmas?
When I was growing up the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve was one of the most exciting times of the year. When I ventured outside, the wind would take away my breath, color my cheeks red, and remove any cobwebs that may have woven themselves into the fabric of my mind. Hands were pushed as far as they would go into handmade Grandma mittens, hats with flaps covered ears and boots offered the promise of dry socks. When the snow came, mittens would be soaked, hats would be pushed back and socks would get soaked – life was good!
In between building snowmen, throwing snowballs and flopping down for snow angels, hours were spend pouring over the Sear’s catalogue – dreaming, plotting, and scheming on what we would really like to see under the Christmas tree with our name on it. Trips down the hallways at school would be opportunities for 3-minute stand-up meetings on what would be the best Christmas “wish.” Lunch recess gave us ample time to review choices, debate the merits of each individual choice, and critique the catalogue’s latest offerings.
We would often start with our tried and true stand-bys – electric trains, dolls, BB guns, and the steel-runner snow sled. We would only dream of things like watches, bicycles, and our own record player – but that was the power of the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas – we had time to develop a strategy with lots of feedback and input. Everyone in our circle who had what we wanted would go out of their way to share successful strategies.
But it was always up to us – individually – alone – to follow through – carry out – execute any and all strategies. Ah, but that was the hard part – we were just one – standing alone against not only the parent – but also the greed and desires of siblings. Yes, any brotherly or sisterly love would be lost as we vied for our present – our wish – against those that would remove it from us. For we knew even then that there was a finite limit to the parent’s resources. If one sibling would garner a larger share of the parent resources, then it would be a sweater and shirt Christmas – and nothing was worse than having to report to our classmates after the Christmas vacation that we failed in our quest and only came away with clothes under the tree.
We would write notes and place them under Dad’s coffee cup saucer – to be seen when he would pour his coffee into the saucer, tip it up to his mouth, and drink it down. Little reminder notes tucked into Mom’s purse, clipped to the weekly grocery list would be sure to be seen. The greater the desire for the gift, the more desperate the child would become. Desperate times called for desperate measures. The year I campaigned for a genuine 28” English racing bike saw all kinds of desperate measures – notes in Dad’s hatband, pictures cut from the catalogue taped to Mom’s dressing mirror, Dad’s shaving mirror and under the kitchen cabinet, along with a very loud intercessory bedtime prayer that would always be sure to point out the grace of God and parents – especially granting wishes, even if undeserved.
Some gifted children had it made – they were cute and knew how to use it. My brother was such a child. He had blue eyes, long curly blond hair, and was very polite to grown-ups. He always minded his manners, said “please,” and “Thank You,” and ate with his mouth closed. He was stiff competition. One year he casually mentioned that he would, “like a dump truck” for Christmas, smiled and let his “cuteness” carry the day – he got 14 dump trucks under the tree that year.
Oh, I longed to be cute.
Yes, the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas were special days – special not just because we would plan and plot for gifts, but also because we had many family traditions. It was these traditions that became a part of the family fabric and live on in the hearts and memories of the family.
There was the Christmas tree tradition – a production that would often last several days. First the family had to be packed into the car for the drive to the lot. Then there was the “I have to look at every tree or how else can I pick out the best one” waiting time – very trying for children. The ride home with the tree tied to the top of the car made all the standing at the lot worthwhile. We would sit in the backseat and wave to all of the other families driving with trees on top of the car – an instant comradeship built on a common experience. The children got to help Dad hold the tree as he made a fresh cut in the trunk so he could place it in the water bucket to soak up nutrients and keep needles fresh. The most fun was watching Dad put the tree in the stand – oh many a giggle was suppressed as Mom kept having him move just “a smidge to the left” or a “tad to the right.” Lights came next, followed by ornaments and tinsel. The coup degas was the placement of the angel on top of the tree. The final touch was always the manger under the tree – placed with love and care.
Of all the memories of Christmas preparations, it is the crèche under the tree that stands out. It was always the first “gift” under the tree and the last “gift” to be removed. The bikes, sleds, dump trucks, dolls and other assorted presents were special to be sure, but they all paled in comparison to the gift the crèche represented. No matter how many traditions, observances or rituals, they, too, pale in comparison to the family celebration represented by the crèche.
God sent His only begotten Son – for us. We did not deserve it, we did not earn it, we did not hint for it – God gave this gift purely out of Fatherly Divine Goodness and Mercy. He loves us so much that He wants us to spend all our time with Him on this earth and an eternity with Him in Heaven. That is the gift seen in the crèche – that is the source of our joy and happiness. Family traditions may last for generations, each Mom and Dad in turn carrying out the appointed role, but God takes us into His family – for now – for ever.
As the days grow darker, colder, wetter – as we take up our Christmas celebration preparations – let us always fix out eyes on Christ and proclaim this gift to the world. Yes, Christ is the reason for the season.
When I was growing up the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve was one of the most exciting times of the year. When I ventured outside, the wind would take away my breath, color my cheeks red, and remove any cobwebs that may have woven themselves into the fabric of my mind. Hands were pushed as far as they would go into handmade Grandma mittens, hats with flaps covered ears and boots offered the promise of dry socks. When the snow came, mittens would be soaked, hats would be pushed back and socks would get soaked – life was good!
In between building snowmen, throwing snowballs and flopping down for snow angels, hours were spend pouring over the Sear’s catalogue – dreaming, plotting, and scheming on what we would really like to see under the Christmas tree with our name on it. Trips down the hallways at school would be opportunities for 3-minute stand-up meetings on what would be the best Christmas “wish.” Lunch recess gave us ample time to review choices, debate the merits of each individual choice, and critique the catalogue’s latest offerings.
We would often start with our tried and true stand-bys – electric trains, dolls, BB guns, and the steel-runner snow sled. We would only dream of things like watches, bicycles, and our own record player – but that was the power of the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas – we had time to develop a strategy with lots of feedback and input. Everyone in our circle who had what we wanted would go out of their way to share successful strategies.
But it was always up to us – individually – alone – to follow through – carry out – execute any and all strategies. Ah, but that was the hard part – we were just one – standing alone against not only the parent – but also the greed and desires of siblings. Yes, any brotherly or sisterly love would be lost as we vied for our present – our wish – against those that would remove it from us. For we knew even then that there was a finite limit to the parent’s resources. If one sibling would garner a larger share of the parent resources, then it would be a sweater and shirt Christmas – and nothing was worse than having to report to our classmates after the Christmas vacation that we failed in our quest and only came away with clothes under the tree.
We would write notes and place them under Dad’s coffee cup saucer – to be seen when he would pour his coffee into the saucer, tip it up to his mouth, and drink it down. Little reminder notes tucked into Mom’s purse, clipped to the weekly grocery list would be sure to be seen. The greater the desire for the gift, the more desperate the child would become. Desperate times called for desperate measures. The year I campaigned for a genuine 28” English racing bike saw all kinds of desperate measures – notes in Dad’s hatband, pictures cut from the catalogue taped to Mom’s dressing mirror, Dad’s shaving mirror and under the kitchen cabinet, along with a very loud intercessory bedtime prayer that would always be sure to point out the grace of God and parents – especially granting wishes, even if undeserved.
Some gifted children had it made – they were cute and knew how to use it. My brother was such a child. He had blue eyes, long curly blond hair, and was very polite to grown-ups. He always minded his manners, said “please,” and “Thank You,” and ate with his mouth closed. He was stiff competition. One year he casually mentioned that he would, “like a dump truck” for Christmas, smiled and let his “cuteness” carry the day – he got 14 dump trucks under the tree that year.
Oh, I longed to be cute.
Yes, the days between Thanksgiving and Christmas were special days – special not just because we would plan and plot for gifts, but also because we had many family traditions. It was these traditions that became a part of the family fabric and live on in the hearts and memories of the family.
There was the Christmas tree tradition – a production that would often last several days. First the family had to be packed into the car for the drive to the lot. Then there was the “I have to look at every tree or how else can I pick out the best one” waiting time – very trying for children. The ride home with the tree tied to the top of the car made all the standing at the lot worthwhile. We would sit in the backseat and wave to all of the other families driving with trees on top of the car – an instant comradeship built on a common experience. The children got to help Dad hold the tree as he made a fresh cut in the trunk so he could place it in the water bucket to soak up nutrients and keep needles fresh. The most fun was watching Dad put the tree in the stand – oh many a giggle was suppressed as Mom kept having him move just “a smidge to the left” or a “tad to the right.” Lights came next, followed by ornaments and tinsel. The coup degas was the placement of the angel on top of the tree. The final touch was always the manger under the tree – placed with love and care.
Of all the memories of Christmas preparations, it is the crèche under the tree that stands out. It was always the first “gift” under the tree and the last “gift” to be removed. The bikes, sleds, dump trucks, dolls and other assorted presents were special to be sure, but they all paled in comparison to the gift the crèche represented. No matter how many traditions, observances or rituals, they, too, pale in comparison to the family celebration represented by the crèche.
God sent His only begotten Son – for us. We did not deserve it, we did not earn it, we did not hint for it – God gave this gift purely out of Fatherly Divine Goodness and Mercy. He loves us so much that He wants us to spend all our time with Him on this earth and an eternity with Him in Heaven. That is the gift seen in the crèche – that is the source of our joy and happiness. Family traditions may last for generations, each Mom and Dad in turn carrying out the appointed role, but God takes us into His family – for now – for ever.
As the days grow darker, colder, wetter – as we take up our Christmas celebration preparations – let us always fix out eyes on Christ and proclaim this gift to the world. Yes, Christ is the reason for the season.