Christmas wouldn't be Christmas without those fun holiday traditions. Every family has their own unique tradition to make their Christmas special. I wanted to remember some of those traditions from yesteryears and those new traditions that have developed into my family now.
* Singing Jingle Bells while opening every gift: While as a child, in our family gift exchange on Christmas Eve, we would elect a "Santa" or someone to help pass out the gifts. The elect person would then have to wear the Santa hat. The "Santa" didn't pass out the gifts all at once. No. He would pick a gift and hand it to the certain person. The person would read who the gift is from. Sometimes clues were written on the package to help the person guess what is inside. A brief moment of silence passes then the family (which usually consisted of our mom, my sister, my brother, my grandmother Nonnie and my grandpa) would start singing Jingle Bells. The person holding the gift would rapidly tear into the wrapped package. Legend has it that if you didn't open the gift by the time the song was over with the person whom the gift is from gets to have the gift back. No one ever took their gift back but it was just the excitement of it all that hurried the unwrapper up.
After the gift is opened we would oooh and aaahh over the present. The person would proudly show off their gift like a prized treasure. Some gifts would spark a story of someone to tell and some gifts would bring out laughter. It would take about 2 hours, give or take, to get through all of the Christmas Eve gift exchange. It didn't matter. We were family and time was not on our minds. It was about spending time with each other and enjoying the company of family.
I remember spending a Christmas time with another family and they passed out all the gifts and then everyone digs in. It went by so fast. It was hard to see what everyone received between all the colored holiday paper flying about. Don't get me wrong. It was still nice and delightful but it wasn't the same. When you are used to having Christmas a certain way the change feels ackward.
* The Manger: I loved it when my mom would pull out the manger. It had a huge door that pulled down and it revealed the cast of characters in Christmas. There was Mary, Joseph, Angels, 3 Wise Men, donkey, sheep, cow, a shepard and the manger, complete with baby Jesus and a bright star that hooked up on top of the stable. We were told that baby Jesus could not be placed in the manger until Christmas morning. My mom would tuck him away in a cupboard until that time. The manger still looked bare especially to a child playing with it. I found a small Garfield toy and placed that in the manger until Christmas morning. My mom was shocked to see Garfield in the manager. She would take him out only to find out later that one of her three children placed the Garfield back into the manger. To this day when I look at manger scenes I look into the manger. When I see baby Jesus in there I still think He shouldn't be there until Christmas morning.
* Placement of the gifts: On Christmas morning my sister, brother and I knew exactly where to look for our gifts. Our tree was always in front of the large picture window. The gifts on the right side of the tree were for my brothers. The gifts on the left side of the tree were for my sister and the gifts right in the middle were for me. The gifts were still labeled with our names but we knew exactly where to look for them. Gifts that would be for the whole family or gifts we made at school for our mom would be placed on the back side of the tree. Those where usually discoved after us kids unwrapped our presents.
I started to do that with my own children. When we had 2 children they each had half a tree. At 3 children it was left, right, and center. With 4 I tried doing left, right, front and back. Unfortunally the child who had the back of the tree had a hard time getting to their presents since the tree was against the wall or window. When child #5 and #6 entered our lives I stopped trying to make them a side of the tree. I would spread all the gifts all around the tree. Now they have to find their gifts under the tree and take it to a section of the room which they claim is their space to open their gifts.
* The Pickle in the tree: I first learned about the tradition of the pickle in the tree from taking a German class in the 10th grade in high school. Basically, the child who finds the pickle ornament in the Christmas tree receives an extra gift from Santa Claus. I told my mom about it and I ended up getting a pickle ornament in my stocking that following Christmas. For a while finding the pickle was just for bragging rights. Now that I have my own family it has turned into a mission on searching for that pickle.
I usually purchase a family gift, like a family game, a movie, or snacks, for the pickle gift. The one who finds the pickle gets to open up the family present. Our children will wake up super early on Christmas morning not only to see the presents under the tree but to start searching for the pickle. I will declare "pickle search" a few hours after they unwrapped their regular gifts. It is fun watching the excitment on their faces and they search between the branches, high and low, looking for a silly glass pickle ornament.
* The Stockings: We had our own red stockings waiting for us on Christmas morning. I came to learn to expect the little things, candy, a few trinkets, a gift or two that is wrapped like a music cassette tape or jewerly and in the toe part, an orange. Opening the stocking was just as exciting as the regular gifts themselves. My sister, brother and I would sit in a circle and dump out our stockings to reveal what we had hidden inside them.
An unexpected tradition started to unfold from the stocking as I had a family of my own. In 2 days we would go from my husband's dads, then to my mom's, then to his mom's, then to my step-dad's family. It became very overwhelming. We really didn't have time to visit as we were always on the go. One Christmas our 2 children didn't have time to even open their stockings. I told my husband they would open the stockings when we returned home. By the time we got home it was late and the kids were sleeping. The next day they were so busy playing with the toys, and us from recovering the hectic 2 days, that we forgot about the stockings sitting nicely on the table in the corner. It wasn't until 3 days AFTER Christmas that they finally had time to open their stockings. The year after that it was busy again that they didn't open the stockings until the next day. It's wasn't as bad as the one year but it still wasn't good.
My husband and I sat down and decided we needed to adjust our Christmas so we weren't in a rush packing everything in the two days. With more children coming into our family we needed to make things easier. It took a few years to work out the kinks to our plan but in doing so created a new tradition.
The stockings are still filled up by Christmas morning but we set them off to the side and we don't open them until later on in the evening. In doing so it makes the Christmas spirit last longer for the children. They have something to look forward to as the night settles over the land. They can see wrapped presents and candy canes sticking out from the top but they know not to peek in. They like the wait and the anticipation of seeing what they get.
* Sibiling Exchange: This is a tradition I started with my family a few years back. With our family getting larger (5 kids when I started this tradition, now at 6 children) I want to teach them about the joy of giving with the sibiling exchange. They each draw a name and they cannot say who they have. Then they have to buy a small gift usually around $5 for the person they drew. On Christmas Eve we gather in the living room and they have to guess who had them in order to open the present. If they didn't guess correctly then the next oldest or youngest sibiling gets to guess. If they guess correctly they get to open the gift right away. It is fun to see what crazy gifts they buy for each other and to see the joys of watching the other sibilings open the gifts.
No matter what traditions you have in your household it is about togetherness and family time. It is the special family moments that have been passed down from generation to generation. Some may be added and some traditions have ended altogether. It doesn't matter what gifts were bought or what is served at the Christmas dinner. It is to cherish the memories that are being made at that moment.
Tuesday, December 25, 2012
Tuesday, December 18, 2012
A Morbid Christmas
As I sit and reminisce about the times of Christmas past I recall one memory that wasn't so merry. Most families, when it comes time to trimming the Christmas tree, will play holiday music or have a holiday show playing on the TV in the background. That was certainly not the case at our household one Christmas.
The year was probably 1987 or 1988. I must of been 10 or 11 years old. My sister and brother rented movies from American Video to watch while we helped our mother decorate the tree. My mom popped us up some popcorn and fixed kool-aid to drink. Afterwards she hauled out box after box of Christmas lights, tinsel and ornaments out of the basement. During this time we were already engrossed with what was on tv. Our mom unraveled the lights and started to string them around the tree. She pulled out the different colored tinsel and wound that around our artificial tree happily humming to herself and not really paying attention to what was on the television set.
A loud torturous scream caught our mother's attention. "This is NOT a Christmas show!" she bellowed.
My sibilings and I would quickly shush our mom not taking our glance away from the TV. We sat there numbingly dishing popcorn into our mouths in anticipation of what was going to happen next. We were watching the horror/slasher movie Truth or Dare. It wasn't a huge hit of a movie but it was certainly odd to say the least.
In a nutshell, the main character catches his wife cheating and he mentally loses it. He starts playing Truth or Dare with people he comes in contact with, and some people were just from his imagination. Some of the dares were cutting his chest open, taking his eyeball out with a nail, cutting off his tongue. Another guy was dared to put a grenade in his mouth and blow his head off. I don't remember exactly how it ended but it was just a gory movie. It wasn't even that scary, just bloody.
My mom was appalled that we were watching a movie like that. She tried to get us to put something else on but we didn't listen. We eventually pulled ourselves away from watching the movie to help put on the ornaments but our ears were still in tune with the television. My mom couldn't believe that here we were, decorating the Christmas tree, with a slasher movie going on.
For the next couple years it turned into a tradition of having a horror movie on in the background while we decorate the tree. After moving out of the house and having a family of my own I have put that tradition to rest. A part of me still wants to see a horror movie while I decorate our tree but I know it isn't best for my children to see. I don't know if it was the movie I liked so much or the bonding moments I had with my sibilings and our mom. I do know that the memory of it still puts a smile on my face.
The year was probably 1987 or 1988. I must of been 10 or 11 years old. My sister and brother rented movies from American Video to watch while we helped our mother decorate the tree. My mom popped us up some popcorn and fixed kool-aid to drink. Afterwards she hauled out box after box of Christmas lights, tinsel and ornaments out of the basement. During this time we were already engrossed with what was on tv. Our mom unraveled the lights and started to string them around the tree. She pulled out the different colored tinsel and wound that around our artificial tree happily humming to herself and not really paying attention to what was on the television set.
A loud torturous scream caught our mother's attention. "This is NOT a Christmas show!" she bellowed.
My sibilings and I would quickly shush our mom not taking our glance away from the TV. We sat there numbingly dishing popcorn into our mouths in anticipation of what was going to happen next. We were watching the horror/slasher movie Truth or Dare. It wasn't a huge hit of a movie but it was certainly odd to say the least.
In a nutshell, the main character catches his wife cheating and he mentally loses it. He starts playing Truth or Dare with people he comes in contact with, and some people were just from his imagination. Some of the dares were cutting his chest open, taking his eyeball out with a nail, cutting off his tongue. Another guy was dared to put a grenade in his mouth and blow his head off. I don't remember exactly how it ended but it was just a gory movie. It wasn't even that scary, just bloody.
My mom was appalled that we were watching a movie like that. She tried to get us to put something else on but we didn't listen. We eventually pulled ourselves away from watching the movie to help put on the ornaments but our ears were still in tune with the television. My mom couldn't believe that here we were, decorating the Christmas tree, with a slasher movie going on.
For the next couple years it turned into a tradition of having a horror movie on in the background while we decorate the tree. After moving out of the house and having a family of my own I have put that tradition to rest. A part of me still wants to see a horror movie while I decorate our tree but I know it isn't best for my children to see. I don't know if it was the movie I liked so much or the bonding moments I had with my sibilings and our mom. I do know that the memory of it still puts a smile on my face.
Tuesday, December 11, 2012
Thoughts on Life and Death
Since the day we are born we come closer and closer to the day we die. We all have an expiration date yet no one knows when. It is one huge mystery - when?! We all expect to live well into our senior years but unfortunally that is not always the case. Sometimes the young parish as well. I believe that when our work here on Earth is done (that God has planned for us) He will call us home. There is a meaning behind everything whether we understand it or not. Perhaps the reason to why a loved one dies may not be our reason to know but for someone else to know the meaning behind it. We don't always need to understand it, but death is something we must accept.
I recently had my mother-in-law pass away last week on December 7. I felt thankful to have been there - not thankful for her death but thankful to have been a part of her life. Her adult children were by her side giving her words of comfort and reassurance as she leaves this Earth. I watched and pictured her in yesteryears as she welcomed each child through labor and gazed upon each new baby with awe. I envisioned her holding them as they took their first breaths in the world and now her children were there waiting for her to take her last. There was a mournful comfort to it.
I came to the analogy of death being like a birth. At one moment the unborn child is not of existence, relying solely on his mother's body for survival. Then one unexpected day there is a little pain and discomfort and that unborn child is born into a beautiful world. All that pain is forgotten as the mother and child stare into each other's beautiful faces. At the time of death things are reversed. On an unexpected date and time there may be some discomfort and pain. Once you get through the "labor" of dying you are welcomed in Jesus' arms and the beauty of Heaven makes you forget all about the suffering from before. It is a birth into death.
William Wallace, a character from the movie Braveheart, said it best with this line, "Death comes to us all." There is no cure from death. No matter what studies the medical field does we still will all die at the end. We can eat all the right foods, live an active and healthy life and we still die. There is no escape from that fact. It is true that by making good choices in our life we can prolong our life a bit longer but death is still going to greet us eventually.
At times when I look at the elderly I try to picture them being young and carefree. I picture them without the wrinkles, gray hair, and without their slow gestures. I imagine them being a young child running around playing happily and carefree. I picture them wooing their spouse by them getting butterflies over that first phone call for a date and feeling wonderfully beautiful. Then I look at the youth running around and wonder if they realize that one day they, too, will get old and not move at a quick pace anymore. Their hair will gray or may even fall out. Their skin will wrinkle and sag. Things that seem important as a young adult will seem trivial to a person with several decades behind them.
So should we just give up on life and roll over and wait to die? NO! That is not what I am saying at all. We should live life and enjoy the gifts that God gave to us all. He gave us the gift of life to live in His glory. God has a purpose for us. He has given us a meaning. We need to give our elders respect while teaching the youth to be respectful to others. We need to remember those who have died and enjoy the moments now that we have with our loved ones. Once that those moments pass we may never get another chance to let them know how much they mean in our lives.
I recently had my mother-in-law pass away last week on December 7. I felt thankful to have been there - not thankful for her death but thankful to have been a part of her life. Her adult children were by her side giving her words of comfort and reassurance as she leaves this Earth. I watched and pictured her in yesteryears as she welcomed each child through labor and gazed upon each new baby with awe. I envisioned her holding them as they took their first breaths in the world and now her children were there waiting for her to take her last. There was a mournful comfort to it.
I came to the analogy of death being like a birth. At one moment the unborn child is not of existence, relying solely on his mother's body for survival. Then one unexpected day there is a little pain and discomfort and that unborn child is born into a beautiful world. All that pain is forgotten as the mother and child stare into each other's beautiful faces. At the time of death things are reversed. On an unexpected date and time there may be some discomfort and pain. Once you get through the "labor" of dying you are welcomed in Jesus' arms and the beauty of Heaven makes you forget all about the suffering from before. It is a birth into death.
William Wallace, a character from the movie Braveheart, said it best with this line, "Death comes to us all." There is no cure from death. No matter what studies the medical field does we still will all die at the end. We can eat all the right foods, live an active and healthy life and we still die. There is no escape from that fact. It is true that by making good choices in our life we can prolong our life a bit longer but death is still going to greet us eventually.
At times when I look at the elderly I try to picture them being young and carefree. I picture them without the wrinkles, gray hair, and without their slow gestures. I imagine them being a young child running around playing happily and carefree. I picture them wooing their spouse by them getting butterflies over that first phone call for a date and feeling wonderfully beautiful. Then I look at the youth running around and wonder if they realize that one day they, too, will get old and not move at a quick pace anymore. Their hair will gray or may even fall out. Their skin will wrinkle and sag. Things that seem important as a young adult will seem trivial to a person with several decades behind them.
So should we just give up on life and roll over and wait to die? NO! That is not what I am saying at all. We should live life and enjoy the gifts that God gave to us all. He gave us the gift of life to live in His glory. God has a purpose for us. He has given us a meaning. We need to give our elders respect while teaching the youth to be respectful to others. We need to remember those who have died and enjoy the moments now that we have with our loved ones. Once that those moments pass we may never get another chance to let them know how much they mean in our lives.
Tuesday, December 4, 2012
A Child's Prayer
I believe it was the winter of 2001. Our son Christian was 4, Elizabeth was 3, and Ashton was just over a year old. We were happily living in Allegan, Mi. getting ready for the Christmas season. A few years prior my husband introduced me to Battle Creek's Festival of Lights display. As a child my family would take me to Frankenmuth to see the lights of Bronners, "The Worlds Largest Christmas Store." Now that we lived on the west side of the state we don't get to see the wonderful lights of Bronner's that much. So my husband showed me the next best thing, The Battle Creek International Festival of Lights.
We seen many displays of Christmas lights. We walked along paths that showed the images of the "12 Days of Christmas" and other traditional images of Christmas like snowmen, elves and, of course, Santa and his reindeer. One of our favorite displays was of a lighted waterfall on a lower part of a building that appeared to flow under a pedestrian bridge. All of the displays were really spectular.
While heading back towards the van we passed along the religious display of lights. It was already getting chilli as it was late at night and Ashton was getting fussy and tired. I was holding Elizabeth's hand when she started pulling away. I grabbed my hand tighter to hers and let her know that we needed to head back towards the van. She pleaded with me that she had to see something. Her small mittened hand slipped out from my grip and she dashed towards the lights. Brian tried calling her back but she failed to listen.
She stopped short in front of the lit cross and without hesitation she kneeled down in the snow, put her hands together and started to pray. Brian, who was shortly behind Elizabeth getting ready to catch her, stopped dead in his tracks. We understood what she wanted so desperately to do. She wanted to pray to Jesus. A few people that passed by took notice of Elizabeth praying and commented on what a precious family we have. I have to agree, I felt very proud of her actions that night.
It is amazing what a 3 year old can teach us. That night she didn't care how cold the snow was. She didn't care who was around watching her. She didn't care that I tried to hold her back of her unknown actions. She needed to pray to Jesus. I never asked her what she prayed about. I figured it was between her and God. Seeing her in front of the cross praying made me examine my own walk with the Lord. Do I hide Jesus in my life? Do I openly pray and not care what others think? We should always have the Lord on our thoughts, in good times and as well in times of hardships. It is something so simple that a 3 year old can understand that.
We seen many displays of Christmas lights. We walked along paths that showed the images of the "12 Days of Christmas" and other traditional images of Christmas like snowmen, elves and, of course, Santa and his reindeer. One of our favorite displays was of a lighted waterfall on a lower part of a building that appeared to flow under a pedestrian bridge. All of the displays were really spectular.
While heading back towards the van we passed along the religious display of lights. It was already getting chilli as it was late at night and Ashton was getting fussy and tired. I was holding Elizabeth's hand when she started pulling away. I grabbed my hand tighter to hers and let her know that we needed to head back towards the van. She pleaded with me that she had to see something. Her small mittened hand slipped out from my grip and she dashed towards the lights. Brian tried calling her back but she failed to listen.
She stopped short in front of the lit cross and without hesitation she kneeled down in the snow, put her hands together and started to pray. Brian, who was shortly behind Elizabeth getting ready to catch her, stopped dead in his tracks. We understood what she wanted so desperately to do. She wanted to pray to Jesus. A few people that passed by took notice of Elizabeth praying and commented on what a precious family we have. I have to agree, I felt very proud of her actions that night.
 |
| Even though Elizabeth's image was too dark to show up in the picture I still know she was kneeling down in front of the cross. |
It is amazing what a 3 year old can teach us. That night she didn't care how cold the snow was. She didn't care who was around watching her. She didn't care that I tried to hold her back of her unknown actions. She needed to pray to Jesus. I never asked her what she prayed about. I figured it was between her and God. Seeing her in front of the cross praying made me examine my own walk with the Lord. Do I hide Jesus in my life? Do I openly pray and not care what others think? We should always have the Lord on our thoughts, in good times and as well in times of hardships. It is something so simple that a 3 year old can understand that.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)