As I finish my 41st Christmas, I have had time to reflect back on the Christmastimes of my youth. The anticipation for presents, the tree, the decorations and the gaiety of the season were almost more than a young man could bare. We would split vacations between Detroit and Tennessee to share our time with both sets of grandparents, as my family does today (only now it is between Alabama and Tennessee). I remember those very special holidays that sparked a permanent memory that lasts through the years.
The first Christmas I can remember was when Santa brought me a chalkboard. He took time to write, "Merry Christmas," to me and even wrote the note to me by name. To a child, that is like getting a hand-written note from the president of the United States. One of the confusing points for me was the fact that we did not have a fireplace. Everyone is well aware of the habit of Santa to gain entrance through that particular orifice. Without one, how could he find his way into the house. I remember asking the question of my parents and then finding the next morning that he had obviously come through the front door leaving a conspicuous trail and remnants of his beard, as well as partially consumed snacks. He had left no sign of forced entry and obviously did not have time to run by the hardware store to have a key made, but like most children I did not let the facts get in the way of my imagination.
I also remember when I received a record album of "The Muppet Movie." You know the one. It had "The Rainbow Connection" in it. I recall imagining how wonderful it would be to play the song whenever I pleased (which happened to be enough to wear down the grooves in the record to render the music almost completely void of its original clarity). This was also the first year that I came to understand that there were not musicians playing the music live down at the radio station each time the song was in the rotation. It was also at a time where stereo music was an unknown concept. The small record player had one speaker underneath the tone arm that would pick up the vibrations of the speaker if played too loudly and cause a low frequency feedback.
As I grew older, one Christmas brought the excitement of our first video gaming system: an Atari 2600, complete with Asteroids, Combat, Pacman, and Space Invaders. We played at my grandparents house in Tennessee on a 13 inch black and white television until our eyes crossed. At night when we had to go to bed, in my mind I continued to run up high scores and pull off spectacularly coordinated offensive strategies leaving other kids to marvel at my skills.
These days Christmas has come to be much different to me. The magic of the season has been replaced by the pressures of work and home. There are the bills to pay, the gifts to buy, the miles to be travelled, the work that has to be done ahead of time to make up for the lost time during vacation, the planning and logistics of visiting family 500 miles apart. But like most people at my stage of life, Christmas has come to symbolize something much simpler, something deeper. Christmas has become about family and friends. Gifts, although appreciated, are now more of a bi product of the invaluable time spent talking, laughing and simply spending time with those who mean so much to me. It is the time of year when my wife and children sit around 5 candles and recount the story of Jesus Christ and the impact one life had on the world and how it affects us 2000 years later. It is a special time with our church family where ancient hymns are sung and old stories are shared and we are all able to find fellowship without reservation not only among our own families, but also those of other congregations. It is a time where we can set aside the toils of everyday life, even if only for a few days, and be truly content with sleeping in a little longer, staying up late with my wife while we talk and laugh with each other. I remarked to Valerie that being a dad was all about giving hundreds of dollars worth of presents out while receiving a SoniCare toothbrush and being absolutely thrilled.
These are the things the first Christmas was all about. The stress of travelling a long distance to get home. The frustrations of masses of people all trying to accomplish the same tasks at the same time. No vacancy when you get where you are going. The excitement, worry and work of bringing a child into the world...followed by peace, beauty, a sigh of relief, visits from friends who travelled to see you, and gifts. As we have attempted to convey to our children, there is no magic man who comes to reward only the good and deserving, who hides in a far-away land, unapproachable and teeters on the edge somewhere between believable and fiction. Rather, there is a Savior who entered and departed this world humbly, who accepts you where you are, bad or good, deserving or not, and gifts us with peace, joy, hope and love in a never-ending stream of light, and is alive and real. You will never wake someday to find out he was a myth or a sweet story someone told to make you behave a certain way. He is not hidden or unapproachable. In fact he intercedes for us in behalf of His Father. He is the true giver of all good gifts, and among these are faith and love. Love for Him, your loving family, your brothers and sisters - all who may or may not even be related to you by blood.
There is a magical quality to Christmas. The mystery of Christ is great. There is a real mystic quality to the plan of the first noel, one that exceeds our comprehension. The anticipation I once had for my own selfish gain has now been replaced by reverence for the One who made the season possible. Christmas is so magical because without it there would be no Easter. Glory to God in the highest...
Peace
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