Ahhh . . . Christmas. That wonderful time of the year, where families gather, dreams are fulfilled, and magic happens. The perfect gifts are exchanged, the memories are priceless, and every picture tells a beautiful story.
Whatever.
One thing I'm learning this Christmas, more than ever before? It's a marketing ploy. It's a fictional creation of Madison Avenue. Most of what we do for Christmas, the traditions and important rituals, aren't meaningful to Christmas at all. They've been derived from old movies, stories and Norman Rockwell pictures.
We had a family Christmas today. No chestnuts were roasted - I don't even know what chestnuts are! There was no roaring fire - I don't have a fireplace. I didn't bake a huge ham or turkey - we had lasagna. We didn't sing carols or even read the Christmas story. (Oops. Good job, Pastor.)
We talked. We ate. We played. We ate. We watched football. We ate. We talked again. And oh yeah, we opened presents. We watched each other open one gift each, and we ooo'ed and ahh'ed. Then we just went for it.
And we laughed. We laughed and laughed and laughed.
We played jokes on each other, or tried to. (Yes, I encouraged my child to draw with a Sharpie on his sleeping uncle's glasses. What of it? And yes, when the phone rang, I let this same child answer it, saying, "Buddy the Elf, what's your favorite color?) We spent time with family we haven't seen for awhile. And it was great. I truly had a great time.
It didn't look like a Christmas postcard or a Hallmark special or "It's a Wonderful Life." It looked like our life. It was joyful. And that's Christmas. Joy began in a manger, in a new little family who had nothing but each other, and God.
That's us. And I like it.
We still have two Christmases to go. This year, Christmas Day is going to be just the three of us. At first I was a little sad about that. But now I'm thinking . . . if Christmas can begin with a family of three, I think I can be content with that.
That's us. And I like it.
Merry Christmas!
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