Thursday, December 23, 2010

Christmas Time

Christmas. What is it? For me, Christmas is memories. Christmas's long ago. Christmas's past. Back when my kids were young, running in our bedroom at six am and jumping with joy after discovering that Santa had visited through the night and he had left them presents. Them begging for us to get up THAT moment so they could dive in and open those wonderfully wrapped gifts. Memories back before that when I was that child, sneaking out in the living room at my house at three am while everyone else slept and looking at the presents Santa had left me. Picking up gifts and shaking them and trying to guess what they were. More importantly, I also think back to our Christmas program we always had at our church that my family attended. It was a small church out in the country, not to far away from where we lived. It sat off to the side of the two lane road that you had to travel down to get to it. My family attended that church regularly and every December about a week before Christmas we had our Christmas program. It was always at night. Some years there would be snow on the ground, sometimes not. Either way, it was cold as December usually is. As we all started arriving the old gas furnace would be running at full force warming the old church nicely, shielding us from the cold, blowing night air. Coats were removed and hung in the back. The church was always decorated simply but beautiful. In the front of the church to the right of the pulpit was the Christmas tree that one of the men of the church had cut and brought in. Small twinkling white lights and simple ornaments hung from the tree. There were paper cutouts of angels and stars and snowflakes that the kids from the sunday school classes would cut out and color and hang on the tree. There were handmade crowsfoot wreaths hanging on the stained glass windows and one single candle sitting on the bottom trim of each window. Potted poinsettias were placed at various places around the small church. If you closed your eyes and inhaled fully through your nostrils you could smell Christmas. The tree, the wreaths, the warm gas fired air. Someone would usually stand up after everyone had filed in and taken their seats and welcome us all out to the program. Our choir was always in charge of the program. When I was young I would sit out with the congregation. When I got older I joined the choir and participated in the singing of the carols. The program was almost the same every year. Someone would narrate the story of the birth of the Jesus, pausing between passages as the choir filled in with the traditional Christmas songs. Before the service started the lights would be turned off so that the only light was from the candles around the church. Christmas came to life in that tiny church as the story of the birth of the Christ child was told again. We had heard it before but each time it just got bolder and more meaningful. Jesus, the ultimate gift, sent down from heaven in the form of a baby boy. Born to die so that WE might have life. That's what Christmas means to me. I, like everyone else, gets caught up in the stress of the season when the world is screaming Buy This and Buy That and ya gotta do this and do that or else!!!! But stop and take pause and remember the true meaning of Christmas. Our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ giving us the greatest gift ever, his life so WE could have life.


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