Rising early I have a morning routine that suits my getting-up-before-the-crack-of-dawn-gets-pants-on farming background. Drinking a glass of water to hydrate after the night, I don warm clothes and head outside to fire up.
In our house we have a rule — the first one up fires up. This farmer man of mine, for years too numerous to count, arose every morning at 3:30 a.m. to trek out to the barn to begin yet another day of chores. Now that we have animals on the farm that need only feeding and cleaning, my husband gets the luxury of sleeping in.
All this being said — I’m usually the first one up.
Starting my coffee, I head to the back room for stretching exercises, trying to accommodate an aging body that bucks these stretches every chance it gets. That done, I hydrate with yet another eight ounces before pouring a hot cup of coffee and heading to my quiet corner, where I meet with Jesus for our morning talk/listen/read session. He’s very detailed, guiding me specifically as I meditate on his word.
With our tree up, lamps are hushed for a time as I sip my coffee and sit with the gentle lights of Christmas. One morning after inviting him in, as time went by I noticed he produced a magnificent sunrise. The morning quietly yawning its way in, the season’s dawn was especially lovely as it reflected the lights of the tree.
Sitting just before daybreak with only the tree lights on is just one of many Christmas traditions held dear to me through the years. My mind took an adventure down memory lane, pausing at high school.
Playing clarinet for my entire school career, I learned much from Larry Schuster. He was the greatest, and talented. Grabbing any one of our instruments and with a flick of his thumb to clear the reed, as an example, played the measure to perfection. His no-nonsense persona as he taught was clear. As a result we didn’t mess around and as a by-product, had tons of fun while we learned.
My fondest memories were the Christmas programs we put on with everyone slicked up in their concert dress and posture and ready to go as a result of endless, productive rehearsals. My favorite? “Sleigh Ride.” I loved the expertise of the percussionists as they reproduced a horse’s clop-clop-clopping.
With all the traditions of Christmas, attending church is at the top of my memory bank. Way back when I was a kid going to St. John’s in Marion, we had candlelight services where all lights were out save for the flickering candles held by each one, young and old, while we sang “Silent Night.” So tender to my heart.
Watching our own little ones open our gifts to them was better than opening anything I was given. When all three were snug in their beds on Christmas Eve, my husband and I went out to our porch room and hauled in anything that needed to be assembled or tucked under the tree, giggling quietly with each other (or arguing quietly, depending on the difficulty of assembly — just keeping it real here) so no little body would wake up.
One year during the church’s Christmas program, our middle one dressed the part and sang “Little Drummer Boy” as he made his way down the aisle, tapping on a snare drum held by a string around his neck. He could not carry a tune — it was brutal. He did it.
My husband recalls serving at Midnight Mass back in the day when he was a small boy. They wore black garments with white vestment overlays and a big red bow fastened around their necks. They’d go up to the manger after and gaze in wonder at the nativity set — the same one there to this day, which is at least 80 years old.
My husband and I were brought up with a knowledge of the reason we celebrate Christmas, and we instilled that while raising our own family. Jesus had a birthday. That’s why we rejoice.
God left everything comfortable, put skin on and came to earth — a barn destination — on a mission to save his beloved children from certain death. During creation, he created everything for us and had a right relationship with humans. Then Adam chose sin. Because God is a loving God, he gives us a choice, whether to follow our way or his way.
God in his infinite agape love, fashioned a way back to him through his Son. He conquered death by rising on the third day and has gone on ahead of us, seated again at the right hand of the Father. He not only saved me from death but showed me how to live. The blood of Jesus makes me so clean I squeak. His gift of everlasting life is offered to all. It’s a choice.
Christmas traditions are heartwarming, but the reason for this blessed season is the best tradition of all.
(“And what is God’s living message? It is the revelation of faith for salvation, which is the message that we preach. For if you publicly declare with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will experience salvation.” Romans 10:9, Passion Translation)
Kay Reminger was born and raised on a dairy farm, and she married her high school sweetheart, who happened to farm for a living in Leopolis. Writing for quite a few years, she remains focused on the blessings of living the ups and downs of rural life from a farm wife’s perspective.
Farm Life From a Farm Wife
