Christmas Eves Past

Today I found myself thinking back on all the Christmas Eve's I could remember. Some are just images, and others more substantial. I enjoyed recalling the feelings of anticipation, the cozy family gatherings, singing carols karaoke style, and all the good food that was special to that time of year - gooey caramel corn, raspberry slush, decadent homemade truffles, crab dip, soft, frosted sugar cookies adorned with glittering sprinkles and chocolate chips, a beautifully glazed ham, and my mom's homemade rolls.

Going through the years in my mind, I asked myself, were I given the chance, which Christmas would I like to go back in time to and re-live exactly as it was? It was a hard decision.

I contemplated the year that we lived in Battle Ground in the home that my parents had built. It was the year that the upstairs bathroom flooded on Christmas Eve while Mom, Kellie and Joel were outside having a snowball fight and Dad, Natalie and I had made a trip into town for last minute needs. It was a bit of a chaotic year, but we all pulled together to get things back in order, and I enjoyed being with my family, working together, and knowing that nothing could ruin our family Christmas.

Then I thought of the year that Andrew came home from his mission a few months before Christmas and he and I, along with my siblings and parents gathered in the soft lamp's light in the family room and listened to Dad read Jolly Old Santa Claus and a poem about Christmas stockings. He hated to read those things and protested by delivering them in odd accents, old lady voices, and mixing up the words in the sentences so that we had no clue what was being said. He did that every year, and I think that had he ever read them properly, it wouldn't have felt like Christmas.

But, in the end, I settled on the memory of a Christmas that we spent in our home in Aurora, Colorado when I was about six years old. I believe it was a white Christmas, and the house was alive with love and excitement. My parents, my sisters and I spent that Christmas Eve together, eating the special holiday goodies that Mom had spent days baking, and listening to carols. We were happy and content, and soon, it was time for bed. The lights that had been strung around the window of the bedroom that Natalie and I shared were blending together on the opposite side of the glass and illuminating the room with a warm, rosy glow. Natalie and I lay on our bed, snuggled under the covers in our flannel nightgowns, and we listened. I don't know if we knew what we were listening for, but eventually we heard it. There were reindeer hooves beating on our roof! We never heard any bells, but there was no doubt in our minds that the "clumpity-clump-clump" that we heard above us was the sound of Santa's arrival. We kept our squeals and giggles as quiet as we could, because we knew that if we were too loud, Santa would know we were awake and wouldn't leave anything. It was crucial that we let Santa do his job, because this was the year that I had wished with all my heart for a Cabbage Patch Playhouse. It was a tiny version of a real house with a door that worked and windows that opened. The windows were framed with pink plastic shutters, and above was a blue plastic shingled roof. I imagined taking my dolls inside the little white house and playing with them in my very own private space. Natalie and I eventually drifted off to sleep, each of us dreaming of what surprises might be waiting for us at first light.

We awoke the next morning to a wondrous arrangement of gifts wrapped in beautiful Christmas paper under the tree. Kellie had a Rainbow Brite refrigerator and stove set, Natalie had a boy cabbage patch doll with curly, blond yarn hair, (his name was Nathan), and I had unwrapped an Operation game, with the fantastic buzzing red nose. When all the gifts were opened, I remember walking to the back door and peering out into the snow covered backyard. There was no Cabbage Patch Playhouse waiting for me there in the yard. I felt a little pang of disappointment, but there was too much joy in the house to linger for long over unfulfilled wishes. I had a pile of beautiful gifts that delighted me plenty. Dad and I then sat at the kitchen table and punched out the little plastic parts to my Operation game and took turns trying to extract the pieces from our patient without setting his nose buzzing and flashing red. Natalie cradled her doll and inspected his glasses and clothing. Kellie was busily preparing an imaginary breakfast on her yellow stove printed with rainbows all over. Mom was at work in the kitchen, cooking our real breakfast of crepes and orange juice. Our little family spent the morning putting together games and toys, admiring each other's treasures, and just being together in the bright light of that happy Christmas morning. It didn't matter that I didn't get the thing that I thought I wanted so badly, because the best gift of all was feeling safe and happy in my home with the people who loved me.

So what's your favorite Christmas memory?