Wow...almost Christmas again. It really slipped up on me. Here it is almost upon us and over, and I haven't even really enjoyed the buildup. I was downtown tonight and was so happy to see the lights and decorations. They are beautiful. There were horse-drawn carriages giving happy looking families and couples enjoying the warmth of being in love rides down the cold city streets. Austin really puts on a good show at Christmas.
When I was little, every day building up to Christmas was a celebration...it was Ecstasy! I remember the excitement and euphoria of decorating our Christmas tree and sitting around it as a family nightly to enjoy the lights. My mother would decorate the house with candles and greens. She'd also be making fudge and other goodies, and I can remember the smells. I used to have little Santa dolls and other little brick-a-brack little kids love up on the mantle. And oh yes...hanging the stockings!
Every day was filled with excitement as I held and shook all my wrapped presents, trying to guess what was inside. It would finally come...Christmas Eve. Oh the glory of Christmas Eve! My parents ran he local movie theaters. We'd close up the theater after the first movie and come home. Then the excruciating wait would begin. My sister and her husband and my niece Melissa would already be there, but my brother and his family would be at his wife's parent's house celebrating with them first. This was always frustration #1, waiting for them to get there. When he and his family finally arrived, frustration #2 would begin...eating. We'd have the greatest party foods and drinks. When I was old enough, I got to participate in the joy of the mixed drinks, but when I was little, my mother would always have plenty of tasty things for us kids. My nieces and nephew and I would eat our goodies, then go into the living room to sit around the Christmas tree and once again look over our presents. The wait was excruciating, though not as painful as the frustration looming in the near distance. I can remember gathering all of my gifts together in a pile...sort of like a treasure hoard, keeping them counted and within my sight. When the adults had FINALLY finished eating, then began the most awful frustration of our Christmas frustrations.....frustration #3, taking pictures.
I still hate the endless picture taking that happens during out family holiday gatherings. Maybe it's a hold over from the seemingly never ending ritual we were forced to endure before we could finally open our presents. Every possible combination and grouping of man, woman, child and often times pets was painfully and horribly executed. Then finally...FINALLY! it was over and we got to open our presents! One family member, usually my sister it seems, would be Santa and pass out gifts. The paper would fly! During this euphoric event, the flash bulbs would be going off of course, our parents wanting to capture our happiness.
After the opening of the gifts, things really mellowed out, and we kids would play with our toys and eat more goodies, and talk about Santa Claus. This was the most beloved frustration and the remembrance of it still stirs my heart. Frustration #4...waiting for Santa.
My niece Melissa was only two years younger than I and more like a sister. We would lay in bed for hours, way too excited to sleep. We'd talk and giggle and speculate about Santa...sometimes thinking up schemes to catch him at our fireplace! I'll never forget a time when it seems we both woke up way in the night, and I decided I was going to go and see if Santa'd come yet. I got up out of bed and crept through the hall, through the living room, and into the den. To this day I'll swear this is true-there was Santa, standing at the fireplace with his back to me, busily doing something! He turned around quickly and saw me.....he shook his finger at me! I ran back to my room as fast as my little legs could carry me and FLEW back into bed! I told the story to Melissa, who was of course excied, awe-struck, and a little scared as well. If you really think about it, the presence of a supernatural being in your house at night when you're little is kinda scarey! I can't remember if we were able to get back to sleep.
In the morning, we of course gloried in the glow of Santa's generous, benelovet love. This one particular Christmas experience all came to a grand climax, when my Daddy called all us kids over to the fireplace to show us something he'd discovered in the ash.....a boot print! There in the ashes of our fireplace was Santa's boot print! To a child, this confirmation of our most beloved and sacred belief was comparable to a Christian seeing the appearance of Christ Himself!
Did Santa really appear to me? Did he leave his boot print in the ashes for us to find? Most likely, Daddy and put his boot in the ash himself to thrill us kids. He was, in many ways, a big kid himself and loved seing happy children more than anything. He never said that he was the one, and I really don't recall ever asking. However, as long as I live, I will swear that I truely saw Santa. I've talked about this with my mother over the years. One time she said, "well, maybe you really did see Santa!"
My sweet little mother explained to me the true meaning of Santa and the "spirit" of Christmas.....Love, generosity, compassion. Could the great spirit of love and giving take form and appear to a wonder-filled little boy? I'd like to think so....
I wish all of you around the world who read my humble blog the most joyous, loving, and wonder-filled Christmas ever. May you all find your little "Christmas Miracle!"
Love and Blessings,
Michael
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