Christmas as a child was magical. We spent Christmas Eve with Mom's side of the family. When we got home, we read the Christmas story, which I half listened to, but mostly wanted to go to bed so Christmas could come faster. I woke up around eight o'clock and walked down to see the glorious tree adorned with gifts. It was pointless to wake up early, because Julie and Gail were too-cool-teenagers, and we had to drag them out of bed at ten o'clock. Do you know how many seven year olds wait until ten o'clock to open presents? Not many. My mom made Christmas rolls, so Lydia, Philip, and I ate those as we waited. One year, she couldn't find the recipe and it was a near tragedy. Traditions were not meant to be broken.
We lined up for a picture - one normal, and one posing at the beginning of a race. Mom took the photo, and we were off to open our stockings. Stockings ended at age 25 or after your first year of marriage, whichever came first, much to the dismay of my eldest sister, Julie. Really, though, the stockings were great, full of essentials - socks, bras, underwear, makeup. I realized this year I may have to actually buy adult socks for myself, something I have never done. I don't even know where to begin. Where are socks sold?
Mom stalked us as we opened our gifts, collecting the wrapping paper and throwing it away before we were finished opening the present. She was not about to let the morning make her house a mess. Secretly, she was also itching to take down the Christmas tree as it was starting to shed needles at this point, but she allowed it to stay up through Christmas day. We thanked her then threw in a thank you to Dad, though he had no idea what we were getting. He asked to see our gifts, though, and at least feigned enthusiasm as we showed him our new sweater. I can't imagine he was very excited, but he certainly liked seeing us happy. Mom usually had one present tucked away - a little something extra she just couldn't resist in the generous spirit of the season. We gave Mom and Dad a gift, but it never compared to everything they gave us.
Before Grandpa got sick, he and Grandma came each year and spent some of the morning with us. They smiled and laughed as we showed them our favorite presents. We went to their house to have lunch (at one o'clock sharp - hurry up Julie and Gail) with the rest of the Navatsyk clan and get one last Christmas present from Grandma and Grandpa. They always gave us a card with a little bit of extra cash in it, too, which I thought was very generous because there were so many of us and their house was so small. Hearts and tummies full, we went home, and from a young age, I knew I was lucky to be able to enjoy the day with gifts and a family that was so loving.
We've broken many traditions this year in the absence of other siblings - thanks for getting married, everyone. No Christmas rolls. No picture. I didn't even open presents at my house. We went to Gail and Mitch's and enjoyed the mayhem that is four children on Christmas morning. The clan now has a small arsenal of Nerf guns, and their home is a veritable war zone waiting to happen which makes for endless entertainment as long as you stay out of the line of fire as Mitch learned.
But not every tradition was broken. Mother was still extremely generous, Father still feigned interest in my boots, and Grandma still hosted Christmas lunch. I still love seeing my family. And Christmas Eve, as we finished an episode of some Netflix original series about a sheriff in the Pacific Northwest, I requested Dad read the Christmas story, even if it was only to an audience of two.
We read from both Matthew and Luke 2, and this remains my favorite verse: "Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; He is the Messiah, the Lord."* Now is the point where I add a small insightful comment that really humbles you. I don't have one. But I do love that verse, and I love that it hits me the same way every year. Simply, how blessed am I that in spite of all my faults, or because of them, God thought I was worth saving? And that my mom is such a good buyer of gifts.
Total side note, but as I was looking for a Christmas morning picture, my mom showed me this:
I mean, come on, that face screams conqueror of the world.
Merry Christmas, all!
