Christmas Past

God so loved us that He gave us the greatest gift, His Son, so that whoever believes in Him,….will have eternal life.  (John 3:16)

My first Christmas memory was being awakened by my mother and, along with my sister, being led into the living room where this wondrous tree was glowing with large colored lights.  The brightly wrapped gifts under the tree were almost an afterthought.  Opening the gifts to find out what was inside was great fun, but playing with the boxes and the wrapping paper was even more fun.  I was 4 and my sister was 2.

My next memory was of the following year.  I discovered tinsel and threw handfuls of it all over the tree.  This year I had a better idea of what to expect from this guy called “Santa.”  So, I got up at 4:00, put on all the Christmas lights, ate breakfast, organized the presents by name into nice neat piles and then watched TV until everyone woke up.  Mom and Dad were not all that appreciative of my unsolicited help.

At age 6, I discovered a hidden hoard of presents in my mother’s closet.  Somehow, she managed to convince me that some gifts came from her and Dad, but the rest were delivered by Santa.  I was always amazed at the number of gifts under the tree.  Of course, my parents were very imaginative.  Mittens were wrapped one hand to a box and a toy requiring 4 batteries would fill 5 separate boxes.  Christmas stockings made their debut this year.  They were Dad’s real socks (freshly laundered).

During the summer I turned 7, I got into the first and only fight of my life.  It was with one of my best friends because, right there on my front lawn, he informed me that Santa Clause wasn’t real.  Boy, did I feel foolish when Mom admitted he was right.  By the way, I lost the fight, so it was a bad day all around.  Somehow, we managed to keep the truth about Santa from sister for a few more years.

When I was 11, Mom and Dad were pleasantly surprised (shocked!) to find themselves adding a new baby girl to the family.  I was a big brother–again.  So, for the next 7 or 8 years, we went through the entire children’s Christmas all over again.  I was now at an age where it was more fun watching her reactions to everything Christmas than it was opening gifts myself.

When I was 12, my dad found a picture of some snowmen caroling that he liked, and he asked me to help him make an outdoor sign out from it.  I always liked art, so I painted the images on a 4 x 8 piece of plywood and then painted “Christmas Greetings” at the top and “The Knowltons” at the bottom.  We fastened that sign to the side of the house and shined a spotlight on it.  He used that sign until they moved away nearly 20 years later.  The sign now hangs from my fence wishing all who see it, “Christmas Greetings.”

I’ve always loved the excitement and festivity surrounding Christmas.  Getting together with family and friends has always been one of the highlights of the season.  But once I became a young adult, I began to realize that the reason for this season was more than family, friends or gifts.  It really was about the birth of a tiny baby in a straw-filled cattle trough, attended his mother, his stepfather, some shepherds and a few animals.  Yet his birth was so amazing that angels sang and kings traveled to bring him gifts.  That child was, is and always will be the greatest gift any of us will ever receive–one that no one can ever buy and one that need never be exchanged.  It’s been delivered and is sitting at your heart’s doorstep, waiting for you to pick it up and claim it.  That’s what Christmas is all about.

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