It’s the most wonderful time of year. Chestnuts are roasting, sleighs are dashing, candles are flickering and dreidels are spinning. People everywhere are filled with memories of holidays past…
And I want to hear about them!
As my regular followers know, I’ve been challenging people to tell me a story on Tuesdays. I haven’t found anyone brave enough to do it…yet…but maybe this is the inspiration they need. Tell me a story about your favorite holiday memories. They can be good, they can be bad. They don’t actually need to be yours! Just tell me a story.
Christmas was always a really big deal when I was growing up. A tree with lights and tinsel, and a train running through a snowy village underneath. As a kid I thought it was pretty magical. I guess I still do.
One of the best parts of Christmas was coming back from Christmas Eve services and getting to open one present. My mother would carefully look through what seemed like mountains of presents and to pick out one each for my brother, sister and I. We would carry them out to the living room and sit in front of the tree. While my dad filmed (8 mm back then) or snapped pictures and my mom looked on we would rip into this first taste of the presents to come.
It took years for us to realize that those Christmas Eve presents were always pajamas. Every year. Eventually my mom told us it was because she wanted us to look nice for the pictures Christmas morning. Every year she picked out three sets of holiday themed jammies and wrapped them up for us to open, and wear, on Christmas Eve.
I have to admit. At first, I thought it killed some of the magic. Those first gits we looked so forward to were all for show – and pictures.
Today, I’m the mother of two. At my house we have two post church service traditions. The first is the girls getting to each open one present containing, you guessed it, new PJ’s to wear to bed. (My husband even surprised me with my own new PJs the last couple of years). The girls know all about the pajama conspiracy and look forward to seeing what kind they’re going to get.
The second tradition is sitting down in front of the fireplace, eating a cookie or two, and reading “T’was the Night Before Christmas” while their daddy records video and snaps some pictures before joining us.
And, for a moment, we make our own Christmas Eve magic.
It’s your turn. There are some rules. You can find them, and other vital information here in my original post.
Now…tell me a story…