Christmas is just around the corner and having little
children around reminded me of how special this time of year is. A child can express awe, excitement and joy
so much easier than grown ups.
William had taken James, our ‘almost two year old’ grandson,
out for the afternoon this past week to enjoy the cool weather and have some
one on one time. While they were out we
decided it was time to bring the Christmas tree in from the garage where it’s
been stored all year.
It’s an artificial tree with the lights already in place
making things so much easier, except there’s a row in the middle that no longer
works. I’ll get around to replacing it
some day; at least that’s what I said last year, or was it the year before?
James came in from the cold all bundled up with a hood
covering his Astros’ ball cap. As he
turned from the entry way he noticed the tree situated in the middle of the
living room directly in front of the window, most of the tiny lights sparkling
brightly.
He walked over to it, eyes wide open and took it all in,
floor to ceiling. The magic of Christmas
landed on him as he gazed and then gazed some more.
“Wow”, he breathed out a hushed reverence for the singularly
majestic tree which wasn’t there when he’d left; but somehow appeared in the
room as if sent by angels. “Wow!”
I had my cell phone/camera in my pocket but it didn’t dawn
on me to capture the moment; guess that one will have to be stored in my mind
along with so many other magic moments.
When I was a young boy one of our family Christmas
traditions had to do with writing a letter to Santa around the first week of
December. We’d use our best penmanship
skills while making sure to list each item on our bucket list that Santa needed
to know about prior to his visit on Christmas Eve.
These letters were put on a plate on the dining room table along
with some cookies and a glass of milk before we went off to bed. Our parents explained that we’d know Santa
had visited during the night to read the letters if all the cookies were gone
along with the milk; more importantly, we’d know Santa read our letters because
his magic mittens would cause the paper to catch fire, leaving only burnt
fragments singed on top of the plate.
The next morning we’d marvel that Santa had come, just as
our parents said he would. The cookies
and milk were gone and sure enough, the letters had turned into a pile of ashes
leaving a scorch mark on mom’s fine china.
“Oh boy, I’m gonna’ get that bicycle, cowboy boots, the erector set, the
Lincoln Logs, the rocket that you have to fill with water and pump it till it
shoots off, the submarine that really sinks in the bathtub and comes back to
the surface; all the neat stuff that was on that letter…and Santa knows about
it now.
There were other family traditions; one in particular wasn’t
so great. Mom and dad loved to make
oyster stew on Christmas Eve. How they
came up with that is a mystery, or is that a misery? They actually looked forward to putting a
bowl of oyster stew on the table, lighting the candles and having us prepare
for the coming of Santa.
I couldn’t even look at a bowl of oyster stew without my
stomach turning, much less place a spoonful in my mouth. Mom and dad decided that children weren’t
sophisticated enough so we were served Tomato soup instead. I wasn’t thrilled with Tomato soup either;
but at least I could look at it without barfing.
Last on today’s list of family Christmas traditions has to
do with the hanging of stockings for Santa to fill with candy, oranges, apples,
nuts and small toys. These were placed
on the end of our beds just prior to light out along with a warning, “Go to
sleep or Santa won’t come”.
That worked pretty well until we reached our teen
years. By then we’d figured out that
Santa needed to put toys together in the living room and didn’t want little
children disturbing the process.
One night while contemplating life there in the darkness of
my room I heard dad coming down the hall.
As he entered the room, carefully hanging the stocking on my bed and
turning to leave, I surprised him, quietly greeting him, “Good night,
Santa”. I’ll never forget the smile and
wink my father returned as he realized I’d left a part of childhood behind.
May your family find simple traditions that make Christmas
memories, memories that will last a lifetime and beyond is my hope and
prayer. Merry Christmas!
This article has been cross posted to The Self Educated American, a
publication whose banner reads, “Standing Fast By the Judeo-Christian Heritage,
Limited Government and the U.S.
Constitution”.
