As far back as I can remember Christmas was a time of great joy. I think I was very young when I learned the true meaning of Christmas. It was the day Jesus was born. I understood that in the way a child would understand.
As I grew older, I still knew the true meaning; but, I was slowly being drawn in with all the glitz and glitter of the season. It was amazing to see the decorations, the lights, and decorated trees. I remember going to Hess’s Department Store to see Santa. However, actually sitting on his lap is a memory only as vivid as the photo in my mother’s album.
I think the only thing I loved more than receiving gifts was giving them. It was so much fun seeing the smiles on the faces of the people I loved. My mother told me there were times I forgot to open my own gifts in my excitement of giving to others.
At one point we started a tradition of giving gag gifts on Christmas Eve. I hear the Royal Family does that. I would never have guessed our humble American family would have something in common with royalty.
Of course, in my heart we were royalty. And sometimes I gave so many gifts, almost to everyone I knew, I may have thought I had the budget of a royal. When I look back, I still remember the joy of giving. Not so much the joy of paying the credit card bills.
By the time my two Princes came along I was even more excited for the Christmas holiday. There was nothing like watching a child experience Christmas for the first time. And the second. The third. And so on, and so on.
We still maintained the true meaning of Christmas by reading scripture about the first Christmas. We did that every year while they were young. Unfortunately, at some point, the boys grew up and that tradition stopped.
I struggled for many years with my desire to bring the beauty of Christmas into my home. However, as I grew less and less able to do it on my own, I depended on Ken and my son, Bob to help me. There was so much grumbling that the joy slowly diminished. The pain at this point was both physical and emotional as I so desired to return to days gone by.
I regained my spirit when grandchildren came along. I decorated in spite of the pain and ignored the grumbles of my helpers. I made the house look like a photo from a magazine. It was so magical. But the best part was having my dear grandchildren with me for this magical holiday.
Slowly, my grandchildren grew older and our lives all went in different directions. I felt like I was decorating for just myself. When we were forced to move to a small apartment we sold most of my decorations. I insisted on giving each of my grandchildren some of my collections, hoping they would remember me whenever they put them on display.
The reality is, I don’t think they ever display them. I have heard some grumbling – they didn’t know I heard – about the problem storing these beloved tokens of my Christmas past. I decided not to dwell on that and pretend they love the collections as much as I once did.
My pain has grown worse, but surprisingly the grumbling has stopped. I think that is because Ken is doing everything possible to keep Christmas as beautiful as I always wanted it. Yes, we have fewer decorations, but he helps me every step of the way, from dragging out the boxes, hunting down missing wreaths, decorating the tree and even the fun of making cookies. He is especially adept at eating them.
Today, I still know the season is really to celebrate the birth of the Christ Child. I know without Him there would be no hope in the world. But today, I also know that God has given me a partner who knows that true meaning, too.
There is one more thing, though. Ken has done so much for me, trying to keep the joy of Christmas alive inside me. No matter how low I get, he is there with the light of love in his eyes, a joke handy and a kiss beneath the mistletoe. Our Christmas has gone from one giant gathering to several smaller ones with our busy family spread out so far.
Yet the most treasured moment of all is the quiet time with Ken, and the moments we spend at Christmas Eve service celebrating the birthday of the One who came to bring us hope.
That is, after all, the most important part of Christmas. I am happy I never forgot.
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