EXcited by Lorrie Orr

 

It's Christmas Eve. I'm a child - 7, 8, 10, 12 - and so excited for what the next day might bring. My sister and I awaken in the dark early morning and creep downstairs, our bare feet cold on the floor. We know to wait to open presents and our whispers soon rouse our brother. Yawning, our parents make their way downstairs. We turn on the Christmas lights and there are the presents. I remember matching doll buggies, dolls, and the year I turned 10, a gold ring with a pink zircon.

Now I'm a grown woman with grandchildren. I still love this season of the year. Advent, with all its heart-focused preparations for Christmas, is deeply meaningful. I lean into the longing felt for generations, and the joy in knowing that our Saviour has come. The story of Jesus come to earth fills me with delight and occasional shivers up my spine.

Then there are the physical plans - considering gifts to make or buy for loved ones, filling the freezer with cookies and other treats, and decorating the house with lights and festive greenery. I love the list making and planning, but all of it can add up to overly busy days when weariness erases excitement.

On top of all the preparations, I want to feel Christmassy. I want to be excited about the season, to revel in the glow of lights, to find myself smiling throughout the day. I've learned, however, that feelings come and go, and to be okay with that. Christmas doesn't mean that frustrations, difficulties, and sorrows disappear. Indeed, sometimes hard things are magnified by the expectations of the season. Walking under the stars (or in falling snow), sitting quietly by the fire, hearing Christmas music in the stores, or just being content puttering away in my home are moments when that elusive "Christmas spirit" fills me with a measure of happiness. I am learning to be content with those moments, knowing that they will pass, but also that they will come again. Ultimately, I know that no matter my feelings, Christ is here. Immanuel. God with us. God with me. God with you.

Merry Christmas!

Lorrie writes from Vancouver Island where she always hopes for a white Christmas, still shakes presents for clues, and enjoys tea and cookies by the fire.

A Christmas Family Tradition - Janice Keats

The cheerful shout echoed as dad was strutting his way upstairs, “Everybody up! Santa was just here!” All kids made record time getting up out of bed. There was no line up for the washroom, just a quick “get out of my way” as all 8 kids raced their way downstairs. What a wonderful sight to see a gathering of kids crowded in and around the Christmas tree half way under with just their bottoms sticking out grasping for their gifts. It was as if they were summoned to find that pot of gold under the tree; each child wanted to be the first to find it.

Soon a field of Christmas paper was strewn across the living room. No one cared about the mess, even if it was 2:30 in the morning. Not Dad, not Mom, not even Grandma who delightfully watched the excitement from her rocking chair with her feet obscured from the sea of paper. The air filled with excitement as the gifts were revealed. “I got a Barbie voyager!” Glenda shouted.
“I got my hockey skates!” Lorne added. Eleanor’s dream came true as her gift was being opened. She cried when she discovered that she had a brand new guitar. Filled with emotion she could barely speak. Mom and dad were so happy that everyone was satisfied with Santa’s choices. When all the unwrapping was completed, Dad got up and said, “I’m going to bed now. Make sure all the lights are turned off when you kids go back to bed.”

There was no sleep left in anyone’s eyes except Dad’s. As he exited the living room and slowly made his way upstairs to bed, the mountain of paper was moved out of the way as each one took possession of their new toys.

Janice Keats