Growing up I never would have called my family privileged. We didn’t have the house or car, the TV or the toys that so many of our friends had that seemed to make them so happy. We never had a room full of presents requiring our Christmas tree to be hung from the ceiling. And rarely did we have the Christmas dinner that is so common amongst our affluent society. We would celebrate Christmas at least twice (for a good part of my life); once at mom’s house and once at dad’s. But celebrating it twice didn’t mean twice the stuff.
Yet, as Alina and I go through this season talking of our Christmas memories, I come away with a great amount of gratefulness for all that I had while I was growing up. Not that she had less than I did, but quite the opposite, she had everything she wanted. She was the person that, at the time, I envied. She talks of having lots of presents under the tree, and of getting lots of things for Christmas, and as far as I can deduce it, that is what Christmas was to her. Presents.
She was raised in a family that spent a ton of money buying what each child wanted, in order to make them happy. And, I was raised in a family that spent very little, because we had very little (in comparison). Yet in comparing our memories I have a much more joyous impression of Christmas than she does.
Christmas to me was lights and decorations. It was the smell of homemade cookies and the excitement of building gingerbread houses. It was the color and taste of candy canes and the joyful singing of Christmas carols full of mystery and truth. It was Aaron, Stephen, Timothy, Mom, and Dad. It was the baby Jesus carved of wood and laying in a manger. It was a beautiful mystery wrapped in joyful celebration.
It was joy.
I thank God that He blessed me so much with this upbringing. I thank God for my mom who, more than anyone that I know, influenced my idea of Christmas toward God and away from gifts. Not that we didn’t get some fun things over the years, but that I really can’t remember what they where, because my mind is full of a Christmas memories that meant so much more.
I thank God that, as Christmas becomes more and more commercialized I can look back and see that it is not what I got for Christmas that I remember, but the times of joy and laughter. And I thank God for the memories that He gave me through my family, and for the way He blessed us with joy and not just simple things.
I pray that God will do that in Rachael and that He would create new, better, memories of joy in Alina. And I pray that God would make your Christmas full of mystery and truth, and that the glory of His Son, born to die, would fill you with the joy that is Christmas.
