Keeping Christmas…
We all have traditions that make a special time…magical. A neighborhood Easter egg hunt, a family reunion where all the musicians in the family get their jam on, that particular kind of stuffing that makes the turkey worth eating…over and again.
Then there’s Christmas. For my Mom, it was the tree. A fresh evergreen dripping with lights, ornaments and tinsel made her precious little heart go pitter-pat. For Dad, it was the dream of pretty packages piled high against the tree…proof of a generous Saint Nicholas and holding the promise of delightful treats and eye-popping surprises. They both remembered trees adorned with homemade chains or strings of dried berries….and the lights were a few candles wired to the branches. They could only be lit a few times while an awestruck family watched. Papa and the uncles, meanwhile, had buckets of water close by...just in case. Presents were rare and always handmade, although stockings – those childhood emblems of hope - were hung.
Many times, those stockings were still pretty flat on a Christmas morning. In good times, you’d be thrilled to find an apple or an orange, and not the whomping big kind that we’re accustomed to find in Wegman’s either…but more of a wizened, elder cousin. If there was anything at all in the sock, there was bound to be a walnut in the toe…but a cellophane-wrapped piece of hard candy was a rare treat, and greatly to be savored.
My Dad was one of nine, so no wonder! Even if it was a good year on the farm, it meant nobody starved…but nobody wallowed in luxury. Ever. The cows gave milk, the chickens laid eggs, the garden and the orchard yielded vegetables and fruit. None of these occurred year-round, though. All these things have their season to flourish and to wane…plus an “off” harvest takes a toll. There were a few winters when everyone somehow made it through on a diet largely consisting of rolled oats and potatoes. If one of the farmer-hunters bagged a little game, that spiced up dinner for a night or two.
Mom was one of 5, and the baby. She was the apple of her father’s eye and a primary focus of his concern for the first 16 years of her life…until he died far too young. Still, Christmas was not the hog-wallow of largesse that we regard as typical today. Nana (my Nana) and eventually her three daughters each spent the autumn evenings knitting long woolen underwear for the men in the house. Itchy, but warm. They also knit hats, mittens, scarves and sweaters for each other and countless needy neighbors. On Christmas, most of these items were stuffed into stockings or lovingly wrapped in tissue to make a happy show of gifts. There were few toys….and those that did appear had been handmade. No Cabbage Patch dolls, though a fresh head of cabbage was a real possibility.
Consequently, by the time I came along, an Olympic effort was made to make Christmas the beautiful and gift-laden day of their dreams. A tree with real lights and miles of tinsel ruled the living room. A stocking was hung…and sometime in the mysterious darkness of Christmas Eve, Santa showed up and filled it. He also ate the cookies and left a thank you note.
But, also in the dim recesses of the hours between Christmas Eve and the dawn of Christmas Day, another Santa – my Dad – feverishly worked to wrap a pile of “presents” and to arrange them under the tree. This didn’t even begin until he had arrived home from working second shift…often an hour or two of overtime was added.
Come the dawn, my Mom and I awoke to great heaps of mystery items swathed in tissue or pretty paper. We’d sit on the carpet and unwrap boxes of cereal, cans of soup and rolls of toilet paper, hooting at the comic element of the situation…full of love for the man who gave up hours of sleep to create at least the illusion of a lush Christmas. And, that’s exactly what made it a lush Christmas….Love.
Of course, somewhere in that elegantly wrapped pile of home goods, there usually were one or two “real” gifts, but it was the “Keeping” of Christmas that mattered….and that matters still. Therefor, here comes my greeting to you, in honor of Christmas 2022 and the New Year to come.
Keeping Christmas…
Let us keep Christmas, as Ebenezer put it,
So that it keeps us, too…
Let’s justify the waiting and the prepping and the fuss…
That empties our pockets and saps our strength.
Let’s not give up yearning for Peace on Earth…
Let’s not abandon Hope…nor let the gloomy steal our Joy.
Nor loosen our grip on what makes us…us.
Let us spend Love lavishly, so that we reap a double harvest…
Let’s celebrate a baby’s fragile birth…
But keep the jaded woe-begone at bay…
The nay-sayer’s credo at arm’s length.
Let us extoll the carolers inviting us to sing along…
Let’s trim the tree and hang the socks…
Let’s crank the music ‘til it rocks the rafters,
And shakes the foundations of our complaisant little lives.
Let’s leave our hives as mindless worker bees…
Let’s sink unto our knees and join the shepherds in the straw…
Amid the “moo’s” and “baa’s” and loud “hee-haws”…
Let us look for a star…let us journey where Wise Men go.
Let’s hang the tinsel and deck the halls…
Hang ropes of holly from wall to wall…
Standing hopefully under the mistletoe.
And, if belief is not our forte…if faith is weak, and doubt is strong…
Let’s just for a moment suspend such crippling logic…
To invoke an innocence once our own…
To be the child who just believes…
Let’s lovingly look at the babe in the manger…
Let us open our doors to that errant stranger…
Sharing the blessings that we’ve been shown.
Let there BE a God who has sent a gift…
To forgive our faults and spirits lift…
Let there be angels who cleave the skies…
Whose glorious chorus caused such awe…
That a frightened gang of humble men
Flew over the fields into Bethlehem…
To worship a baby who would be King…
The Master of everyone…everything.
But if, Dear One, even that’s too much…
Reach out a hand to gently touch
Some other tattered soul a-grieving…
Whose lonely journey has covered miles.
And if that soul looks up…and smiles,
You just might find yourself believing.
And that is enough…yes, that will do…
For Love is a way to keep Christmas, too.
May you keep Christmas thoroughly and well…
And may you keep it all year through!
Written in Love
Just for you
By the Q.O.E.