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The New Christmas Reality

I wrote this Christmas morning when I got up and read it to my family before we started opening stockings and gifts.  Hope you all had a Merry Christmas!

There is a new reality in our house on Christmas Day.  The “no one was stirring, not even a mouse” has stretched from night time to well into the morning at our place.  The only problem with that is my internal clock is set for the same time 365 days of the year and I can’t just turn it off.

I get up each day at 6 am to spend some time with God.  On Christmas morning, because I’d been up so late the night before, I did sleep in a little.  I got up at 7:30, and let me tell you, only the turtle was stirring!  He actually seemed excited about Christmas … or maybe he was just hungry.  Anyway, it’s a far cry from years ago when the house was buzzing before 6 am.

Christmas villiage

I remember those days: the calls from another room, “Can we open our stockings now?”; those extra bodies crawling into our bed, trying to get some leverage to push me out; or the lifting of my eyelids and asking, “Are you awake, Daddy?”

There is one good thing about the new reality.  Santa doesn’t have to get to our place in the middle of the night.  He can show up in the morning and get all the stockings squared away, guaranteed not to wake anyone up!

And forget the milk and cookies.  He has a full breakfast and makes it himself!  Not even the noise of the pots and pans shook the Christmas slumber from the children all snuggled in their beds.

The stillness is nice; it’s calming and thought-provoking … Speaking of thoughts, it’s too bad the World Junior Hockey tourney didn’t start this morning – that might have gotten some action in our house, at least from the other male in our residence.

On Christmas Eve, I vaguely heard some negotiations about when things would start Christmas morning.  I heard the time “11 am”, but I think there was some push back on that proposal, so I didn’t know when our house would come alive with the sound of stockings being emptied and wrapping paper being ripped.

We rip wrapping paper now.  Back when I was a kid, apparently there was a shortage of paper because my mom made us take the paper off presents carefully so we could save it for another year.  I’m sure glad we discovered all those trees in Northern Ontario so we can just rip the paper off and throw it right into the garbage (I mean the recycling bin … can you recycle wrapping paper?)

This new reality is sure different than in the past.  I’m not sure I like it.  I’m not sure it’s all that productive.  There are some good portions of the day we’re missing out on!  Then again, getting an early start was more important in the days we had toys to deal with.  I needed time to test some of them out to see if they worked properly.

Here’s the thing: As we get older we lose some of the excitement we once had for Christmas.  It doesn’t have the same magical charm it once had.  Rather than starting out with a great flourish of activity, now it starts more like every other day of the week. There is nothing wrong with that but, if that same attitude affects our excitement and wonder of Christ’s birth we nullify the purpose of the day.  To keep the excitement, the wonder in Christmas, insert your favourite Bible translation of Luke 2:1-20 here.

Until Next Year!

Pastor Paul

Question: How do you keep the wonder and awe of Christ’s birth in Christmas Day?

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The Longest Night Ever

Note: There will be no blog on Tuesday I’m going to take a break for Christmas.  So, today I want to share with you one of my favourite Christmas memories growing up.  I want to wish you all a very Merry Christmas and may God bless you in 2013.

Like most kids growing up, Christmas was a pretty exciting time for my brother and I.  John is just two years younger than me and we would fuel each other’s excitement.

We were notorious for getting up very early Christmas morning. We would often sneak out of our room, only to hear a voice from another bedroom boom, “GET BACK TO BED!”  That would send us backtracking really fast.

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One year, neither of us could sleep all night. It was literally agony lying in bed, thinking about the presents that might be under the tree, and not being able to open them. John and I shared a bedroom, which only made it harder to sleep as we kept talking about what we might be getting that year.

To make matters worse, we didn’t have a clock in our room. After a while, we couldn’t handle the waiting, so we decided to go on recognizance missions to find out what time it was. That meant we had to sneak through the hall undetected, creep through the living room with the Christmas tree glistening in the moonlight, past the stockings on the couch, through to the dining room, to the clock on the wall.

I went first, and to my great disappointment, I discovered it was only 1:30 am – oh, it was going to be a long night! On my way back, I couldn’t help but notice the stockings full to the brim, with a three-pack of underwear sticking out the top (Santa always brought underwear). Accidentally brushing the underwear with my hand, I notice something else sticking out the top of our handmade, wouldn’t fit anyone sized, Christmas stockings.

I snuck back to our room, hardly able to contain myself with excitement, and whispered at barely lower than an yell, “WE GOT ARMY MEN!”  (Hey, that’s a big deal when you’re 5 and 7.)

It took a while for us to recover from that mission behind enemy lines, but after what seemed like an eternity, it was John’s turn to check the time. He did a masterful job of getting out of our room undetected. When he got back, he shared some more news of what was in our stockings and told me the time was 10 after 4. We were closing in on 7 am when our parents said we could get up.

After another long time, it was my turn to go back. I used all my sleuthing skills to be quiet and went straight for the clock. I was shocked; I had to look at it a second time. It was only 3 am!  I turned and headed back to our room.

John had a problem with hands on the clock and he had mixed them up when checking the time. Instead of being 10 after 4, it was really 20 after 2 when he had gone. I had no option … he needed a beating for that mistake.

We had trundle beds in our room, which meant John’s bed slid under my bed in the day, and at night pulled out beside mine. This was to my advantage. Not only was I two years older and maybe an inch taller, but my bed being above his, gave me an extra foot of leverage. I took my pillow and beat him silly with it. He looked like a drunken sailor wobbling back and forth, until he collapsed on his bed in a heap.

At that point, I thought that night would never end. I thought we would never get to opening up our presents. But we did … and my brother John is still alive.

Here’s the thing: I wonder what kind of night it was in heaven as all the angels waited, anticipating the birth of Christ. We know they couldn’t contain themselves when the baby was born. They joined the angel who announced the birth to the shepherds and sang, “Glory to God in the highest heaven and on earth, peace to those on whom his favour rests.”  We should be that excited about Christ our Saviour!

Merry Christmas,

Pastor Paul

Question: What excites you most about Christmas?  Leave your comment below.