December 25, 2024
Today is Christmas Day! And
this evening is the beginning of Hanukkah! This is the first time these two
great Commemorations have shared the date since 2005.
Whatever our individual
traditions may be, our holidays become cherished moments in our lives. First,
for the occasions they represent—the birth of Christ for Christians and the
recovery of Jerusalem and the rededication of second Temple for the Jewish
people.
But they’re also special for
the traditions they bring to the fore in our own personal histories. Religious traditions
and secular ones, as well.
My memories of Christmas have
blended together through the years, the things we did, always, that became
dear. Traditions from our childhoods that we then, as young parents, were eager
to pass on to our own children. Traditions recalled have been wrapped in love
and sprinkled by the auras of those no longer with us. They are precious.
There’s always room for new traditions,
of course—and that is in fact how each generation puts their own stamp on the benchmarks
of their own journey.
When I was a child, we tended
to secure our tree and decorate it the week before Christmas—usually on a
Saturday. Daddy would have cut it down from the wooded area behind our house a
few days before that, and then brought it into the house to “warm up and let
the boughs drop”, I’m thinking probably the day before.
Decorating day was always
special, because we did it together. There would be Christmas music playing. I can’t
honestly recall if that was via the radio or a record player. And after, there
would be hot chocolate and some Christmas cookies.
There was the excitement of
Christmas morning! Of course, we had to wait until Mom and Dad were ready for
us to come out and see…. that time always seemed to drag. Later I would
understand that they’d gotten to bed late, first because we usually attended
the Christmas Eve eucharist that ended just after midnight. And then their having
stayed up even later to prepare everything for Santa’s big reveal. Mom and Dad needed some time in the morning to
get their coffee brewed and themselves settled before we came out to behold the
magic.
That particular tradition was
one that David and I repeated. And I knew, in those early days of motherhood,
that it was the great gift of seeing the joy on young faces that decreed that
tradition. we used to have a photo of our three huddled on the staircase,
waiting for the word to “come down and see what Santa brought.” Sadly, we lost
a lot of pictures because of two separate house fires. But I still carry that
image in my memory, and in my heart.
Other traditions were repeated,
as well. The fat orange in the toe of the stocking, and the large family
breakfast. The scattering of breadcrusts from the stuffing out in the back yard
to feed the birds.
Sitting down in front of the
television at the appointed time to watch the Queen’s Christmas message.
Christmas had a veritable bouquet
of aromas for me—the deeply reverent scent wax and incense atmosphere of our
church; the smell of bacon and then later, the sage-and-roasting turkey combo
pulsing from the oven. And the basic underlying trace of pine tree.
Christmas had a sound—music and
bells, carols sung by the choir, and laughter—beautiful, full-bodied laughter
embedded with joy.
Christmas had a visual image—the
lights of the tree reflected by the tinsel, the twinkle of decorations in the
city as the snow danced down, and those wondrous old stockings that were hung regardless
of their being no mantle to put them on.
And every Christmas, for just
a little while—just long enough—I can almost see the trail from those days past
to this one. A connection. A family. A tradition.
David and I wish you all the
very best of what this time of year can be. We hope it’s full of joy, and
laughter, and love.
Love,
Morgan
http://www.bookstrand.com/morgan-ashbury
No comments:
Post a Comment