How do you celebrate? We observe the Christmas holiday……in our own way.
For years I have thought it ludicrous to decorate for the holidays using snow men and snowflake paint when we live in Florida. I’ve been through Christmases so hot that the needles fell off the tree before Christmas morning.
So, what is Christmas anyway? I like to think of it as a family tradition time of year; a time to show gratitude and to fill each other with love; not just a time to buy gifts we don’t need and then forget the whole thing a week later.
After many years of creating wonderful, thematic displays in our tiny home, I grew tired of the fact that we worked in our small business all hours of the day except those it took to maintain meals, clothes and sleep schedules and never got to enjoy the decorations ourselves, nor have guests over.
Through my studies, I learned that Christmas was a created holiday, based on similar celebrations that the original “church” wanted to emulate in order to keep it’s participants. So, I refused to play into that and decided that, if we were celebrating the birth of Christ, we would do it in a more appropriate manner than killing trees, spending the last pennies of the year on gifts that people didn’t need, and then forgetting all about it until the end of the next year.
I have tried to maintain a level of gift giving throughout the year, making sure the children understand that they receive all the time and that the actual day of Christmas is a mega-retail manipulation along with Hallmark’s invention of those special days that we all have to buy cards for.
So, what to do to celebrate? Practicing as fundamentalist Christians at the time, we would give Jesus a birthday party. The young ones would make paper chains for decorating and we would have a special family day of food, games, and togetherness. I enjoyed the lack of having to force time to do the extra things most people do. It’s difficult for me to introduce even the smallest extra events into my days with business chores, household chores, and home schooling. My own mother has called me a humbug. Humpf. Well, I can’t let myself feel guilty about it; would it be right to celebrate Christmas according the the rules of others because of a feeling of guilt?
I’m all for tradition based on something personal like family history. We have a tradition, now, of sleeping in, then having goodies all day long on Christmas day. I bake wonderful breads the day before and we supplement that with salamis and cheeses. Then, sometime in the afternoon, I begin making a huge pot of gumbo. That is after we have opened the bits of gifts we have made or purchased and set aside. We do this slowly and enjoy each gift with each other; kind of like sucking on that bit of chocolate until it melts itself down the back of your throat. Very small, very intimate, very us. We can count on it and everyone feels the warm fuzzy of family in a wonderful way.
I hope you are able to stand up for what you feel makes a good celebration of gratitude for all the blessings you’ve been provided. Make it meaningful; make it last for longer than a day.
Happiest of year ends and the most promising of year beginnings to each of you!
With love, gratitude, and abundant blessings,
Diana
4 Comments
Bless you Diana, as you bless others.
Thank you Janet!
I don;t think I called you a “Humpf”–I think you are wonderful–always have. sometimes things I say get misinterpreted.
I would say that you deprived the children of happy memories of Christmas. Santa Claus did come to our house–even I believed he did. Even when we bought the biggest and cheapest tree on the lot and then didn’t have anything to fill up the gaps. So we hung our Christmas cards on the tree. The gifts were less than $10/ Baby carriages from Salvation Army–50 cents each. Beauty boxes made from cigar boxes–and filled with home made powder mitts, nail files, and smelly stuff.
And a table from a nail keg–with round plywood top–which I still have–helping to bring back that memory. Two trikes–from green stamps–and home made flannel night gowns and caps–.
Even as I worked on these things–I knew Santa were come. Other Christmas times were not as poor–but each one for the first 12 years of our family–was memorable.
I think I remember all my Christmas times from the time I was 3 until I got married at 18.
If I hurt you by calling you a “Humpf”–forgive me.
Love
Mom
Now Mom, it was a Humbug that you called me, not a Humpf. I was humpfing at being called a Humbug. There was no misinterpretation, a Humbug is a Humbug. You didn’t like that I raised my kids not believing in Santa Claus and you still don’t. That’s okay, really it is.
I remember the dollies, carriages, the huge wooden dollhouse you built for us, and the beauty boxes – those most of all. I remember the nights you and Dad stayed up until all hours assembling the bicycles and I adored those flannel jammies. I remember before bed, listening to the radio caster as he told of the radar blip that was certainly Santa and his sleigh pulled by reindeer making their way toward Florida. Must be in bed before he gets here.
I also remember that Christmas and birthdays were the two days we ever got anything more than clothing. I remember going to 7th grade with two dresses. I remember your telling me of making my first clothes from one of the two dresses that you owned. My gratitude goes out to you and Dad and the universe for the nurturing environment you provided us.
Wonderful memories don’t have to be based on lies or stories. I’m glad you and Dad gave us those gifts, not Santa. I can depend on you.
Love you too, Mom.