Do you remember the wonder of it all?

One of my earliest memories is of Christmas when I was about four or five years old. We had made the nearly 600-mile ride from Broomfield, Colorado to Lubbock, Texas in one day. We arrived just after dark on Christmas Eve to Mammaw's house. I don't remember if we had eaten on the road or after we arrived at my grandmother's (mom's mother) but I do remember that we kids had to get to bed, and quick, before Santa arrived. Mammaw just had two bedrooms, so they made a pallet on the floor in the living room for me and my brother. Now the living room was the most exciting place in Mammaw's house at that particular time of year, for it was where the Christmas tree was situated. This was important, for this would be the place where Santa would leave the loot we were anticipating.

I remember Dad staying up late watching some war movie on Mammaw's black and white. I think it was the Bridge Over the River Kwai because there was a bridge everyone was fighting over. It was an exciting movie on an exciting night, and it was hard for Steve and I to get to sleep. But get to sleep we must, for Santa would not come if we were awake. This was the rule, and I knew it to be true because Dad kept reminding us whenever he saw that we boys were still wide awake.

Do you remember what it was like trying to go to sleep on Christmas Eve? You would lay there with a combination of adrenalin from the excitement, and a surge of sugar from candy canes and hot chocolate you had consumed. If you had set the covers on fire, I'm not sure that it would have been any harder to go to sleep than it was with the anticipation you had for Santa Clause coming to town!

I remember another Christmas when I was about seven or eight. We lived near Seattle, Washington, so we did not go "home" to Lubbock that year - it was just too far. My Dad (who fancied himself a clever man) had about enough of we boys getting up at the crack of dawn, so he formulated a plan. First, he removed all of the goodies from our stockings that were hung over the fireplace in the living room and replaced them with onions. Then he closed the pocket door to the family room where the tree and presents were located. Now the pocket door was seldom used, and my brother and I had forgotten we even had one.

With the trap thus set, Dad lay awake in bed listening for us to get up. He heard us find the onions, but he did not hear us replace our little sister's stocking goodies with our onions... he would find out about that a little later though.

Anyway, after the dry run to the stockings, Steve and I ran into the family room - right into the pocket door! The noise must have rocked the entire house - I know it rattled mine and Steve's heads. I don't know about Santa, but I'm pretty sure Dad's belly shook like a bowl full of jelly when we hit that door. Year's later, Dad told us that he could hear us whispering in a hurried conference as to how to proceed. It turns out that Dad had jammed the door with a spoon, and it took us quite some effort to get that door open wide enough to squeeze through.

But when we did, it was incredible!  The tree lights were the only lights that were on, and all we could see under the soft glow of those lights were our presents. It was if magic had been worked at our house that year, for under the tree were two shiny new bikes! And they were not just bikes - they were Stingrays! And while by this time we did have some doubts about Santa (thus Dad's brilliant onion strategy) there was still nothing in the world like coming into a room lit only by the lights of the tree and beholding the splendor of what Santa had brought us.

Isn't Christmas marvelous!. It was something we looked forward to from the last day of school at the Christmas break, to the culmination when we finally got to see the presents under the tree. I miss those times, and I really miss my parents, but the memory of these moments makes me realize just how fortunate we kids were to have loving parents who went to such lengths to make Christmas such a time of joy for their kids. 

And, in case you thought I did, I didn't forget. We also remembered the reason for the celebration of this special time of year. While it's true we are not sure of the exact timing of Christ's birth, our family always celebrated that wonderful day at Christmas. After all, if even the angels celebrated when Jesus came into this world, could we do any less? 

My Mom and Dad were the best parents a boy could have, but it wasn't because of the gifts they gave at Christmas. It was because they were Christians who loved God and who loved Christ and who were determined to raise their kids to do the same. I think they did a pretty good job, and I know that they made sure that our lives were filled with joy all along the way. And the best times, I was sure when I was a kid, were those seasons that culminated with Santa Clause coming to town! Even on the year he brought those onions for my sister...