By Kris Price, Assistant to the Publishers
We all have memories from childhood, but our most vivid ones are probably from times spent with family and friends, and Christmas is most likely to be the holiday that we remember best. Although this holiday has become very commercialized and the focus seems to have become more about the presents under the tree than the birth of Christ, twelve staff members of TOS have shared their most vivid memories of the holidays. As you’ll see, these memories are not mainly about the gifts that they received. Instead, these individuals remember the fun times spent with family, the sights and smells of Christmastime, the love of the gift-givers, and the best gift ever given to the world—Jesus Christ.
Christmas Gifts
Childhood and Christmas—the two seem inseparable in my mind. I remember always being home for Christmas as a child. My husband and I decided early on in our marriage that we would spend our Christmases in our own home as well. We spent a few of our earliest with our parents but soon found that consistently spending Christmas Day at home allowed us to create our own family traditions. We don’t have a large fancy meal on Christmas day unless we have guests. We keep things simple, enjoying our gifts and playing together for the majority of the day. We are big movie fans, so we tend to enjoy movie marathons together as a family as well.
As a child, I fondly remember sitting at the top of the stairs with my two sisters and one brother, anxiously awaiting our parents’ permission to go down the stairs and enter the living room. Today, our children wait for our permission to race to the tree just like we did. When we were young, my parents never wrapped our gifts; they simply put them out all at once for Christmas morning. As an adult, that memory has become a beautiful symbol of Christ’s gift of salvation: that we need not work to unwrap it, only accept it. Although we do wrap gifts for our children, we focus on Christmas as the birth of Jesus Christ. One year we planned a scavenger hunt throughout our home. Our children had to find a series of clues that directed them to hidden locations as they traveled to see the Christ child, just like the shepherds and wise men. The hunt culminated in a basket with a baby Jesus doll and a small gift for each of the children. I pray memories like that will last a lifetime for our children.
Donna Campos, Senior Product Reviewer
www.homeschoolblogger.com/hugabunchmom
“The Holidays”
There was no time of the year I looked forward to more than the period known to me as “The Holidays” while I was growing up. The Holidays were from Thanksgiving to New Year’s Day.
We celebrated The Holidays with my cousins, taking turns being the host family. One of my favorite memories involved getting up early and tumbling into our Buick Estate Wagon. My siblings and I fought over the passenger side window seat. We all wanted to get the best view for the three-hour trip. I remember the fog-shrouded Golden Gate Bridge and then holding my breath through the rainbow tunnel. My lungs felt like they were burning as I struggled to hold my breath through what I thought was the world’s longest tunnel. (Years later, I taught this tradition to my children.)
We arrived at my aunt’s house hungry, fidgety, and eager to eat and play. Our large meal was a mixture of traditional New England favorites and regional ethnic dishes. After stuffing ourselves, we lay down on the living room floor to rest, feeling like Winnie the Pooh felt after a large meal. Later we headed up the hill behind my aunt’s home and dashed into the woods. We climbed a dusty cow trail and struggled up the oak-lined foothill. Then down we slid in order to do it all over again. I am sure my mother hated this part of our adventure, but she never stopped us. Whenever I think about The Holidays, this is the first memory that comes to mind.
My childhood was rich in family traditions. Even when money was tight, we celebrated Thanksgiving and Christmas with panache. I don’t remember particular gifts or decorations, but I do remember the family fellowship and fantastic food.
Tina Rice, Senior Product Reviewer and Correspondent
My Father and the Dollhouse
One of my favorite gifts that I received at Christmastime as a child was a handcrafted, mustard-yellow dollhouse with brown trim, made by my father when I was 9 years old. It had a blue master bedroom upstairs with a mixed green and yellow bathroom across the hall. Downstairs was a simple living room area with a cream-colored paint job and dark brown carpet, and the kitchen area was adjacent with orange accents. In the middle of the dollhouse was a central staircase complete with a miniature grandfather clock. All rooms were carpeted with different textures, and most of them had a unique 70s print wallpaper design. I look at the colors today and nearly cringe at the designs, particularly all the swirls and curly cues, but I remember the many hours I would spend arranging furniture and playing out various home-life scenarios. I think the deepest memory is how special that dollhouse was to me because my dad had taken the time out of his busy pastor’s schedule to cut, build, and design a small home that he knew I would enjoy. He invested his time and energy in it and handcrafted it out of his love for me.
I grew out of that little-girl phase in a year or two and, to this day, I have often wondered what happened to that special home. Most likely, we passed it on to someone who could get better use out of it. However, if I had known that my father was going to pass away at Christmastime only a few years from then, I would have kept my handcrafted home as a fond reminder of the kind of person my dad was. He was always thinking of others. He was very compassionate, sensitive, and attentive to details. He was a God-fearing man. Each Christmas since them, I am reminded of how our time together with others is so very precious, and I often reflect on many missed loved ones. Each moment that we share with our family is handcrafted by our Creator out of His love for us. Treasure each one!
Karen Walden, Marketing Assistant
Christmas Means Family
My mom and dad were all about making memories, and Christmas was no exception. As I think back to our yearly festivities, so many pictures flood my mind. We always set aside an evening early in December to decorate the tree, with Christmas music blaring and special candles burning, while we took time to reminisce about each ornament. Silver tinsel, and lots of it, found its way onto the tree limbs (and probably everywhere else in the house too!). Once the tree was decorated, I knew to expect extra company at home and extra visits to other people’s homes. Cookies and other treats always seemed to be waiting. Somewhere in the midst of December, there was usually a Christmas pageant at church. I never felt more proud than the year I was asked to play Mary. Each Christmas Eve was spent quietly taking in the sights, smells, and sounds of the season while we enjoyed our traditional dinner of . . . pizza!
All of my childhood Christmas memories are good and cozy, even when the situations may or may not have been ideal. For many years, my dad worked at the local hospital. Oftentimes, his shift would fall on Christmas Day. That meant he had to be out of the house by 5:00 a.m. Did that hinder our Christmas morning celebration? Not in the slightest! My sister and I hardly noticed that the clock read 4:00 a.m. as we ripped open the glittery packages under the tree! Christmas was about family, good friends, and the celebration of Jesus’ birth. With so many wonderful childhood memories, I work hard now to be sure my children will enjoy similar warm and cozy memories when they’re old enough to look back. It’s a joy pointing them toward Jesus in the midst of colored lights and cookies.
Cynthia West, Product Reviewer and E-Book Project Manager
www.homeschoolblogger.com/westward
Love and Peace
Christmas as a young girl in Indiana in the 60s and 70s will always hold a special meaning for me. I had two older sisters, and our parents always made us feel loved and cared for all year, but especially at Christmas time. Our parents would decorate the house from top to bottom both inside and out with lights, decorations, keepsakes, and even reindeer on the roof. Our Christmas tree, decorated with many ornaments we girls had made, was fresh and gave off the sweet smell of pine throughout the house. My mom always wanted silvery tinsel on our tree. We had to make sure that we only ever hung one strand at a time—no bunches clumped together on our trees! We always made cookies, fudge, and my favorite, divinity, around Christmas each year, some for gifts to neighbors and relatives and some for us to enjoy.
My sisters and I would excitedly anticipate Christmas morning, but first we would have to go to bed early on Christmas Eve. Then, our parents would awaken us around 11:30 p.m. for us to get ready for the midnight service. Early on Christmas morning, we would run downstairs to get a peek at the wonderful gifts that our parents had set under the tree for us. As Christmas carols played on the turntable in the background, we opened our gifts individually so that everyone could see each gift. This made us appreciate the gifts themselves, as well as the givers.
Love and peace radiated throughout our home all year, but I will always cherish the warm memories of my childhood Christmases in Indiana.
Betsy Chastain, Homeschool Nations Coordinator for Tennessee
www.homeschoolblogger.com/Tennessee
www.homeschoolblogger.com/SweetHomeTennessee
Through the Eyes of a Child
Even though I am 58 years of age, I can still clearly remember memories of my childhood during Christmas. I grew up in Dearborn Heights, Michigan, and Christmas always meant snow. And perhaps, now living in California, Christmas just doesn't seem like Christmas. Yes, I'm now dreaming of a white Christmas.
I remember my younger brother, Dennis, and myself always sneaking into my parents’ walk-in closet to check out all the neat presents my parents were storing up for us on Christmas Day. We were excited about what we were soon to receive, but unfortunately, it made Christmas morning somewhat anticlimactic.
I also remember all the Christmas cards we received from friends and family. I would wait with anticipation for the mailman to arrive to stuff our mailbox with tons of sealed envelopes of multi-shapes and colors. Then my mother would create a giant wreath from all the cards. Once the wreath was completed, she would border the living room walls with more cards. My dad would go all out every year and decorate the outside of our house. In fact, one year he even won a home decoration contest. I would help him by carrying the boxes of lights to the foot of the ladder and trying to untangle the knotted cords as he hung them up on the edge of the roof.
My fondest memory is that of our relatives gathering at our home on Christmas Day. Love and joy seemed to fill our house. My mother was an excellent cook, and she created a turkey feast that I can still savor. Afterwards, everybody exchanged presents. Christmas now, though pleasant, pales in comparison to Christmases growing up, the difference being that it was experienced through the eyes of a child. I believe that is true for each and every one of us.
Mike Halpin, Cartoonist
Newfound Traditions
My family was never big on traditions when it came to Christmas. Truth be told, it was one of the two holidays where I joined my mom at church, Easter being the other. I always enjoyed Christmas though. I felt it usually, but not always, brought out the best in people. Everything felt warm and fuzzy, tradition or not. I really didn’t yearn for those traditions. I was happy spending the time with my family traveling from one grandparent’s house to the other. I guess I always held that as a tradition. The one thing my grandparents had in common was a place where we could discuss Steelers football, and in the 80s, it was mostly about how bad they were.
Marriage has brought me a newer understanding of what Christmas means. It no longer holds the position of the one of two times I could be seen in church. It’s really not all about the presents I get, and my family and I try to stamp our own traditions out (but Steelers football still makes an appearance in discussion!).
For the past four years, my wife has made a point to carry on a new tradition, one that we have adopted and truly enjoyed as a family. We get to open one gift on Christmas Eve, after we get back from church. That present is a new set of pajamas. We try on our new digs, get the hot coca brewing, and get back in our minivan to set forth on our annual journey. The week before, my wife and the kids put together a short letter, basically telling people that we enjoyed their Christmas lights, and we set forth on a Christmas lights excursion. Each of our kids gets a set number of letters to disperse, and when they see a display they enjoy, we pop a letter in the mailbox, just signed “a local family.”
Christmas, as hectic as it is, is a time to sit and just be quiet for a while and reflect on what Christmas actually means. Sure, we make the rounds to the kids’ grandparents house, just as I did as a child, but we make sure to carve out time for our own family, whenever we can, to truly appreciate the holidays.
Brad Saleik, Production Manager
Rusty, the Christmas Puppy
Christmas at our home was steeped in tradition. In fact, if any family member ever dared to suggest that we stray from what we had always done, his or her suggestion was quickly shot down. The traditions were fundamental to the celebration, and only years later, when Dad had passed away, did we truly appreciate their impact.
My father passed away after battling bladder cancer. I was 15 at the time. That first Christmas without him, without the sameness and the comfort of the repeated traditions that relied on his presence, was extremely painful. But a magical thing happened that Christmas that I always felt was of God’s doing.
On that Christmas Eve, a beat-up car traveled down our road. The owner stopped and tossed out a small dog. It was a dachshund and had tons of energy, with a matching bark. As the car raced away, the dog chased after its owner, but he was soon outrun. Suddenly the pup turned around and spotted us. He came running to our porch and refused to leave.
We spent that first Christmas Eve, without my father, in quiet remembrance, hosting only our closest friends and family and actively trying to guess the name of the stray pup. While resting after a quiet dinner, one of us correctly guessed his name as “Rusty,” and the dog went nuts! Needless to say, we were distracted from our pain and loss as God met our needs in a unique and surprising way. Rusty became a permanent member of the family. Although time has gone on and Christmas traditions have been adapted, I'll never forget the Lord's faithfulness to our family during that difficult time.
Tricia McQuarrie, retired Homeschool Nations Coordinator
Christmas at Grandma and Granddaddy Bauer’s House
My memories of Christmas are so sweet. Our family would all gather at my grandparents’ home and, although their home was bursting at the seams, we all had a wonderful time. My grandmother would spend weeks preparing for everyone to come. Christmas was just about the only time that the whole family would travel far and wide to spend time together, and I could see that she was so thankful that they would be there. She would prepare all of our favorite treats and goodies while whistling Christmas carols. I can still see her hands preparing all those yummy goodies. Granddaddy would trim the tree, and Mom and I would make homemade ornaments to hang on it. Grandma and Granddaddy’s house was always warm, but the warmth was amazing during this time of year!
Christmas Eve was a busy but wonderful day. Grandma would begin preparing things for Christmas dinner early, so that all would be ready for the oven before our candlelight service at church. This service was my absolute favorite part about Christmas Eve. Our church sanctuary was small, warm, and beautifully filled with candles. The candles flickered and glowed, making the whole church a warm amber color while we would sing and read the story of Christ’s birth. I always struggled to get to sleep on Christmas Eve because I couldn’t wait to hear the roar of my family enjoying each other’s company.
When our family members would begin to arrive, I would always be at whatever door they were coming in. Sometimes, I would even bound out the door to meet them. I can remember how excited Grandma would be. You could just see the sparkle in her eyes as she saw her whole family together. My hope is that one day our home will be filled to the brim in the same way.
Christi Gifford, Senior Graphic Designer
www.ArtDesignsbyChristi.com
Whiter Than Snow
I had the privilege of growing up on the mission field in Ghana, West Africa, and our Christmas celebrations mainly consisted of a simple family celebration of Christ’s birth. On Christmas Day, a special service was held in the village church nearby. Ghanaians—especially believers—are joyful, expressive people, and there was always much singing, clapping, drumming, and dancing at their celebrations. As a child, I would sing, clap, and dance too!
Ingenuity was a necessity on the mission field. One year my mom—always energetic and creative—wrote and directed a Christmas play for the MKs (“missionary kids”). I particularly remember her clever use of the rims of tin pie pans (which were from America and had been carefully saved, as was anything that could possibly be used again) to make haloes for the angels.
Two gifts received during my childhood still hold a special place in my heart. One year my father bought each of his three daughters a small ebony jewelry box inlaid with ivory. I still have that gift from Daddy. And when I was 5, my sweet mother made an entire collection of doll clothes for my favorite doll, Betsy. I couldn’t figure out how “Santa Claus” had managed to provide doll clothes that exactly matched outfits that my mother had made for me that year . . .
I asked my parents if they could remind me of any special Christmas memories that I might have forgotten. Among their comments was this statement: “We soon learned that ‘Christmas’ was not snow and presents and Santa Claus, but rather a time of rejoicing because we had been ‘washed whiter than snow’ through our faith in the Son of God, our Lord Jesus Christ.”
May God give us His grace, as parents and grandparents, to teach our families the true purpose and joy of the Christmas season. Rejoice! The King is born!
Donna Rees, General Editor
To: Debbie
From: Jesus
Gift tags. Those little strips of paper marked with people’s names were among my favorite memories of Christmas—especially those ones that read “To Debbie”!
No matter how rich or poor, my parents worked hard to make Christmas a very special occasion. My mom loved to decorate, so when Christmas time came around, everything glittered that possibly could. We walked around in a daze of decorations, lights and brightly wrapped presents all around. We looked forward to the aroma of baked cookies, ham, and potato soup that always accompanied the day. We let chocolate fudge melt in our mouths as long as possible while waiting for our grandmas and uncles and aunts to arrive. We anticipated the stockings full of fruit and candies and small toys.
Then it was time to read those gift tags. I was as excited to hear the ones that read “From Debbie” (knowing that whatever was in that present came from my heart) as I was to hear “To Debbie,” because I knew that whatever was in there came from a heart of love for me.
My mom was saved in the early seventies through the witness of some long-haired hippies whom many called “Jesus Freaks,” and suddenly Christmas took on a whole new meaning: Jesus’ birth was emphasized, the tree was a reminder of the tree that Jesus died on, the evergreens were a symbol of everlasting life, and suddenly the gift tags all repeatedly declared “From Jesus,” reminding us that every good gift ultimately came from Him.
Among my favorite possessions now are ones that are not temporal; they are those unending gifts of love, joy, peace, and eternal life—you know, all those gifts that read “To: Debbie, From: Jesus.” Many things have changed over these many Christmases past, but whatever has come to Debbie from Jesus has remained.
Deborah Wuehler, Senior Editor
My First Horse
Looking back on this Christmas photo, I see that my love of horses and adventure started young.
When we gave one of our boys a bouncy horse for Christmas years ago, he started out a bit wary of it. He sat on it tentatively, gripping the little red handles tighter with each unexpected movement. As parents, we kept a gentle hand right by his side, steadying him and helping him to find his balance. We knew that some sweet day, he’d laugh and bounce and ride that horsey like it was a bucking bronco, but he just wasn’t very sure of it in the beginning. Little did he know the adventures that would await him on the back of that fine steed!
And so it goes with some of our most precious gifts from God. We don't always know what kind of adventures lie around the bend, yet we just have to grab onto them and trust that our Heavenly Father is right there with us along life's bumpy ways.
It took me more than thirty years to get my first real horse. He was a 20-year-old swayback quarterhorse, but he couldn't have made me any happier if he had been a Kentucky Derby champion. Not being an experienced rider, he promptly tossed me off of his back a mere two days after getting him, yet nobody had to lecture me about getting back in the saddle. I knew that he was a special gift from the Lord and that he and I were going to work things out. In those thirty some-odd years, I'd had my fair share of bumps and wild rides already, and I knew the comfort that comes from feeling your Father's tender hand by your side as you bounce along.
As I look now at four of my favorite people in the world, Tony and the boys, and I think of our life together, I am truly grateful for God's guiding hand throughout my life. I never would have dreamed in my teenage years that I'd be homeschooling, living on a farm with a barnyard full of animals 20 miles from nowhere, and that my favorite thing in the world would be just “being” here. Yet, it's a great gift, a great adventure, and I'm enjoying the ride.
Nancy Carter, Director of Marketing, Editor of The Homeschool Minute and The Natural Schoolhouse, and Senior Contributing Writer
www.HomeschoolBlogger.com/tn3jcarter
Copyright 2008. The Old Schoolhouse Magazine, Fall 2008.
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