Christmas Memories Add Depth to the Season

In three days, the Christian world will celebrate the birth of Jesus Christ, widely known as Christmas. So great has been the impact of that singular event in history that even those who refuse to acknowledge the Baby, whose actual birth may or may not be Dec. 25, must acknowledge His birth, albeit when dating a check or making a doctor’s appointment.
This Christmas will be my 61st. Honestly; some are memorable while others have faded into that Silent Night. Live trees, and more recently, artificial ones have been an interior focal point for many of those holidays. Earlier trees were trimmed with an assortment of heirloom ornaments. Latter ones are more modern, since most of those old ones broke or were thrown out.
Mom and Dad lovingly decorated those early trees on Christmas Eve. The aspect of putting up a tree prior to that night was something new to me in married life.
Dad always brought to life a tiny snow village beneath the tree. Christmas, to him, was linked with such tiny replicas that seemed to recall his own boyhood in Beaver Falls, Pa. He would remember skating on rivers frozen solid, and then, after the bitter cold, being warmed by a wood stove.
Mom would take care to place the tiny Nativity scene atop the television. The special place of the Holy Family was so that it could not be ignored as we watched black and white, and later early color TV programs through the holiday season.
Stringing outdoor lights was a despised job that fell to Dad and me, since he did not like to climb ladders, and I longed to sprout wings like a bird. It seemed the job of placing those simple strands of, what today would be “huge” bulbs, was reserved for only the coldest days. Humble as the strands were, they signified to the world we cared about Christmas.
Central to Christmas is giving gifts. Regardless of their price, they symbolize the greatest gift our heavenly Father gave us, His Son, Jesus.
Such a correlation is never drawn by the secular world, which has wiped away any thought of such reason to give presents.
Today, it’s all get, get, get for me, me, me. It is little wonder parents without a lot of money to buy presents for their children get depressed around this season. They are made to feel inferior if they cannot adequately produce, on Christmas Eve or Christmas morning, an array of “stuff” that would roll the eyes of R.H. Macy and John Wanamaker.
Many times, the gifts we give define us, the giver. Mom used to say the only gifts worthy of giving were ones you liked yourself. I could never understand, in those early times, why anyone would give away something they liked. Now I see the virtue in that kind of giving. It is special because it is from the heart. If gifts are not given “from the heart,” gaily-wrapped presents are nothing more than fancy merchandise the recipient did not buy.
Some of gifts I received over six decades stand out:
A set of Lionel electric trains, at the time, the epitome of what many boys wanted.
A three-speed English bicycle.
A short-wave radio.
A “care” package from home while in the Navy.
A perpetual calendar from my daughter when she was in grade school.
A warm coat from my son and his family.
A book of photographs of the Vietnam War, given by a cherished co-worker, now departed.
These are some presents that came immediately to mind, and are certainly not the only ones, yet remain the most memorable.
Recollections of Christmas and Christmas Eve are rich with memories, some comic that, to this day make the family laugh.
One was the gift of a Cub Scout pocketknife from my mother-in-law to our nephew. That lad, now a corrections officer, was admonished, “Be careful, it’s very sharp.” Within three breaths, he ran his finger across the blade; the result produced copious amounts of blood, followed immediately by the “I told you to be careful!”
Attendance at church on Christmas Eve always took precedence over going on Christmas morning. There was always something alluring about being in a packed-church, adorned by a corps of volunteers with garlands and trees, with a larger Christ Child replica near the altar.
Certain choir members became etched in my mind for the solos they sang. Most effective, was the collective voice of the choir when it sang “Silent Night” as candles were passed, person-to-person, to light the nave in a flickering warm glow that time cannot erase.
There are sure to be new memories made this year that will be remembered for many joyous Christmases to come.
Through all the wrapping paper, greeting cards, and rush of the season, take one moment to remember the true meaning of the holiday, God’s gift to us of Jesus. Merry Christmas!