Christmas is just a few days away as I write this. And for the first time in several years, I’m actually looking forward to it.
It has been years since I have really truly enjoyed this season. The reasons why are long and sad: Most of my post-marriage Christmas memories are wrapped in sorrow about pregnancy loss, or health issues, or dealing with expectations from either others or myself to be everything for everyone, or just plain lack of Christmas spirit.
But as a child, I lived for this time of year. The Christmas programs, the parties, the music, the lights, the gifts! Ah, it was the best time of the year, the time when everyone in our big noisy household had little piles of hidden presents underneath beds and stuffed in closets; when we all tried hard to keep secrets, when we smiled a bit more and twirled in the kitchen to Christmas music while decorating cookies..sweet memories of a simpler time.
We never bought gifts for every member of the family. With so many kids, my parents wisely had each child draw names each year and that was our person to shop for. Such fun it was to try to guess who got your name! And oh the laughter when the gifts were opened and we figured out we were wrong, or right!
My parents were not the sort to extravagantly buy us tons of stuff throughout the year. We had what we needed, but I don’t recall them caving to pressure from us to buy us the latest greatest whatever. However, when the day came to open our presents, (usually for us on New year’s day, which I’ll explain later), they went all out! Late the night before, they would stay up, wrapping the mountain of gifts. We would go to bed, nearly squealing with excitement, unable to sleep until very late. The next morning, it was a happy sight to see our tree, piled high on all sides with amazing mounds of packages and gift bags! Each kid would get probably four or five gifts each to open from that pile. I remember receiving flannel pajamas, books, necklaces, perfume, dolls, and other various toys. They did not have tons of money. But they loved to splurge on us at Christmastime. I have no idea how they made that magic happen year after year. But somehow they did.
Back to why we opened gifts on New Year’s.. each year, we made the long van ride north to Ohio from North Carolina (and briefly in Tennessee). Most of the aunts, uncles, cousins etc all lived close to one another in central Ohio. Both sets of grandparents lived within about 5 miles of each other and attended the same little country church where my parents had met many years ago. I have vivid memories of those trips north. I remember pulling into Grandma and Grandpa Kibler’s driveway, the hugs from Grandma and Grandpa, the love spilling out from their eyes and arms. I remember dragging our tonnage of luggage into their big farmhouse. I remember the bitter cold there, the sparkly snow which to a kid living in the south was truly wonderful. I remember camping out on the shag carpet in the living room, the grandfather clock waking me often with its cavernous chimes, and I remember eating and laughing and exchanging gifts with family we only saw once or twice a year, yet we loved them and they loved us. Then I remember going to my other grandparents, Grandma and Grandpa Leibold, unloading everything at their farmhouse and later their little house on George street in town when Grandpa retired. It didn’t matter where they were, it was home. I remember playing in the cold barn loft with cousins, and eating yet more amazing food (good cooks run on both sides), opening yet more gifts, visiting and playing board games and making memories that still make me cry tears of joy.
Bittersweet it is to look back. Both Grandfathers are long gone now to Heaven. One Grandmother is too. I still have my Grandma Kibler for which I am so thankful. And I will forever be grateful to my parents. They gave us the gift of Christmas memories. They instilled in us a love of family near and far. They showed us by example that giving sacrifially is what Christmas is truly about. I know it wasn’t easy, packing several kids into a beat up station wagon and making that long trek every year, but they did it for us.
Back to New Year’s Day. After the excitement of that trip to Ohio, it might have been hard to return to boring life at home. But our Christmas on New Year’s was the event I looked forward to more than anything else! We opened stockings first. At some point, Daddy read the Luke 2 story of Jesus’ birth. Then we’d leave the enticing pile of gifts and sit at the table for a Christmas breakfast feast of cinnamon rolls, eggs and bacon, fruit, and coffee. After that, we returned to the living room and somehow in a somewhat orderly fashion, we opened our presents. Afterwards, we played games and played with new toys and it was a wonderful day.
Christmas will never hold the same near magical spirit that it held for me as a child. But this year, as I am feeling extra nostalgic, I am also seeing the chance to build new memories with my loving husband and with a wide eyed toddler who has started saying “wow” when he looks at the twinkling Christmas lights. Yesterday, we baked cookie and laughed and it was a beautiful day. In a few short days, we will travel north to visit family. After all the Christmas gatherings, we get to come home and create our own Christmas Day a few days after the 25th. Because Christmas isn’t confined to one day. And I want to give our son the gifts my parents gave to me.
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