By Elaine Welles
We’d wait for Santa Claus, dutifully going to bed on time — or earlier — hoping we would be able to sleep in anticipation of the big day and the big guy.
We’d awake much earlier than normal to rush downstairs and open gifts. On one of those mornings, we awoke too early, only to hear Mommy saying, “Santa didn’t come yet.” Oh no! We had to go back to bed!
Now that we’ve matured, it’s no longer an anxious time. We don’t rush to buy gifts, or even get agitated about the process. Some of us wait until the last minute to do whatever little shopping that we have to do.
We can never go back to the excitement of childhood, unless it’s through the little ones now surrounding us, whose eyes we love to see light up at what’s under the tree. Their excitement is what matters now, at least in this aspect of Christmas.
Transgressions overlooked
Cousin George remembers Christmas Eve visits from my mother, which I knew nothing about until recently. I guess she was playing Santa at my aunt’s house when I was awaiting the big guy at our house.
Christmases for us were always good, at least for us kids. We always received lots of stuff and we were always happy on Christmas. Whatever bad things transpired before Christmas were all forgotten. We must have believed that Santa didn’t think our transgressions were worth remembering.
We didn’t understand that not everyone believed as we did. And, when we visited others, we found it strange to find no Christmas tree.
Giving makes us feel good
Christmases past can’t be recreated. The dynamics are gone. There are fewer family members and far fewer gifts to both give and receive.
But, even though maturity and a sense of purpose and meaning have taught us that gifts should not really be what Christmas is all about, the more we have to give, the better we feel.
And we come to understand that the true meaning of the season is love — pure and simple — of God, family, friends and ourselves.
|