I thought it was funny that a week before Christmas all of the weather forecasts included a report on the chances of having a white Christmas. In the past, I always thought a white Christmas would be nice, but I never really wanted the snow to fall on or near Christmas.
After all, snow means tricky travel when many people plan to travel. Even I prefer to travel when it is safe to do so. Plus, snow means snow removal, and ice, and tricky walking.
Many years ago, when I was a widow the first time, and was living by Clintonville, we had a storm on Christmas Eve. I was a new driver at the time and scared even to drive to town for church. So I gathered the boys around the Christmas tree, and with Christmas music playing on the record player, I read the Christmas story from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 2.
That is one of the clear memories I have treasured through the years. While we were not at church as planned, we were together, and safe, and it was a peaceful Christmas Eve.
I remember those years also because after I ushered the two little boys off to bed, I often stayed up late into the night assembling what I bought them for Christmas. Playing Santa was always fun, but when the assembly did not go smoothly, it was also tiring.
The smiles and wide-eyed wonder on the faces of the boys made it all well worth it. Now those boys are in their 50s, and I wonder how much of those wonderful Christmases they remember. There wasn’t much for money, but there was always love and fun, with taffy pulls and the like.
When “farmer husband” and I married, the boys and I moved to Tigerton, and the next Christmases were spent on a farm. Two more children were born, and I always tried to keep Christmas special, with more emphasis on the birth of Christ than presents.
The world tried to creep in, with Christmas catalogs, and TV ads promoting this and that. As the children grew up, some of the wonder ceased to be. I remember the year we got the Atari, which came out in 1972. I am not sure what year it wound up under the Christmas tree, but that was not a good Christmas Eve.
When we returned from church, the kids begged and begged to open one gift, and they opened that one. We had trouble hooking it up, and it turned into a night of disappointment and tears. That night is often talked about, with contrition and shame, as the true meaning of Christmas had been forgotten.
By the next day, things got hooked up and it provided many hours of fun for the whole family, but we learned that year that it is not things that make Christmas.
The true meaning of Christmas is the Christ Child. It is only with that in mind that I can enjoy the time spent in enjoying family and the typical traditions that have developed over the years.
(“And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” Luke 2:7)
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