Tonight I watched Polar Express with Rick and the girls. It really made me think of Christmas time during my life.
Christmas was never about a baby born a couple thousand years ago. It was about a beautiful tree, full and bright. Twinkling in the corner, covered with treasures from the years before. There were angels and stars on top, and garland and lights winding their way toward the bottom. It was about taking out the stocking and hanging it flat against the wall, wondering and dreaming about what it might be filled with come Christmas morning.
It was a time to have ham and turkey, and Granny's stuffed celery. To make deviled eggs, and cranberry sauce from the can. There would be stuffing, stovetop, and olives and sweet pickles. Pumpkin pie and prailines made from scratch. Fudge, made fresh the day before. Sometimes, there would be tamales...if papa found a way to get them. Granny and Mom sneaking bites of all of it between cups of coffee.
And of course, there would be presents. But they varied, both in quantity and quality, from year to year. They were so pretty, dressed up in their wrapping and bows. As an adult I have a few memorable ones. The crotched blueberry doll my mother made me, as well as the grape one. The year after they became famous a cabbage patch doll came to live with me. The She-Ra book that I received the year we only had the table top tree and no heat. Those three years were my favorite, and by no means our financial best.
There was never a religious feeling about christmas. It was about decorations, food and presents. It was a magical time when my mother and grandmother would be peaceful with each other. My brother and I would be involved in our own toys, which meant we wouldn't be fighting. Naps could take place without feeling lazy or calling anyone a baby. We ate dinner in the living room, at the dining room table, on fancy plates. Three times a year we did this. Easter, Thanksgiving and Christmas. And it was always about the food,decorations and presents.
As an adult, I have always tried to make these holidays magical. I have never been able to buy all the presents they wanted, or make all the things they wanted to eat. I have however managed to make them believe in magic. The magic of the season, of giving, of sharing a meal, of sharing posessions and clothing, the magic of loving every person in their lives and having them all together.
As an adult that has found faith, I wondered how to mesh the two. Christmas for us is still not about a baby born two thousand years ago. In fact, christmas seems to be the word we use to describe the season that we share with so many. It is about the food, decoration and presents...yes. But in our house it is also, moreso, about the magic. This year, especially, we will stumble a bit. Moments will take on a different meaning throughout the season. This year we have lost our most magical member.
But I have an idea. Because I believe in the magic, of the season and of sharing and of loving. I want to celebrate the tears, and the sadness. Isn't that another kind of magic? To know that we have opened out hearts so much to someone, loved them with all that we had, trusted them.....and the only way thing that could separate them from us was death. Melodramatic?Sure. Truthful? Yes.
There are many that take for granted family. I have been one myself. So the magic that binds us together through blood, dna, relationships, friendships...I find it amazing. Even the loss of it.
Happy Season of Magic and Believing.
