The Progression of Christmas

 

 

When I was a young child,

Christmas was magic.

It was twinkling lights,

waiting for sleep that wouldn’t come,

listening for the footsteps of Santa.

Christmas was Rudolph, Frosty, the Grinch.

It was a look of longing,

brought on by the heap of gifts.

It was decorations, blinking angels, and wrapping paper.

Christmas was impatience and anticipation;

when would Grams and Granddaddy finally arrive?

Christmas was Santa,

presents, blissful ignorance.

 

When I was a teenager,

Christmas was Grams and Granddaddy.

It was a 19 hour drive,

getting ahead of the blizzard,

or staying behind it.

Christmas was Colorado,

mountains, skiing.

It was the dog’s gas problem,

Grams lighting a match.

It was the smell of coffee,

the smell of Grams’ perfume,

her hairspray.

Christmas was poker,

beating the unbeatable,

Granddaddy.

Christmas was shopping,

with Grams,

the only one who mattered.

Christmas was Grams and Granddaddy.

 

When I was a college student,

Christmas was the desire for ignorance.

It was denying what we knew,

this would be her last.

It was saying goodbye,

to her perfume, her laugh,

her singing clock.

It was the longing for the past,

the fake smiles,

Christmas was my nephew,

his brand new life,

while an old one faded.

It was subdued,

Christmas was different.

 

When it was the year after,

Christmas was new traditions.

It was North Dakota,

the longing for what was.

Christmas was her decorations,

her ornaments,

without her.

It was reminiscing,

her tears,

brought about by uncontrollable laughter,

her Bronco games, her flavorless chili.

It was making the best of it,

new life, nieces and nephews.

Christmas was their happiness,

their gifts, their ignorance.

 

When I was a young adult,

Christmas was my future husband.

It was eagerness,

my first Christmas gift to him,

the first of many.

It was wedding preparations,

dreams of a white dress and red heels.

It was honeymoon plans,

flowers, and invitations.

It was the torment of the stomach flu,

attacking each of my family members.

Christmas was nerf gun wars;

it was card games.

Christmas was my last as a single woman.

 

Now that I am a mom,

Christmas is my son.

It is his happiness,

his gifts, his traditions.

It is his first snowfall,

keeping him away from the tree,

broken ornaments.

It is my little family,

looking at the lights,

someday they will mean magic for my son.

It is gift giving, Operation Christmas Child,

Salvation Army, running errands,

cooking, cleaning, church events.

Christmas is grocery shopping.

Christmas is busy.

 

Christmas is many things.

It can be lonely, exhilarating,

worrisome, and joyful.

It only has one constant.

Christmas is Jesus Christ.

It is the nativity,

O Holy Night, Away in the Manger;

It is Mary and Joseph, Bethlehem,

and shepherd boys.

Christmas is service to Him,

seeking Him, thanking Him.

It is because of Him.

It is for Him.

Christmas is Jesus Christ.

 

For unto you is born this day in the city of David a Savior which is Christ the Lord.

~Luke 2:11Christmas

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This entry was posted in Family, Holidays, Make you Cry. Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to The Progression of Christmas

  1. mom says:

    Wonderful post. Of course it made me cry. Grams would be so honored. She always is and always will be part of our Christmas.

    Like

  2. LouAnn says:

    I am so proud of you…using your gift of writing in this way. Keep going, girl! I am excited to see where God takes you with this!

    Like

  3. craftimom says:

    I really shouldn’t have read that at work…

    Like

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