Like many of you, Christmas is my favorite time of year. I love it for different reasons now than I did as a young girl. Then it was all about Santa Claus and what he would bring, regardless of your behavior during the year. We were always threatened with sticks and lumps of coal but Santa never let us down.

My parents were not wealthy and my mother worked to help make ends meet. My brother, sister and I were never indulged or spoiled. We were not allowed to have toys or treats except at holiday times. A basket at Easter, a small heart-shaped box of candy at Valentine’s Day, and money under our dinner plates at birthdays.

But Christmas was the time our parents gave in to our slightest whims. I never remember a Christmas that wasn’t wonderful. It wasn’t about the giving — it was about receiving. We were only allowed this one time of year to “want it all and want it now.”

Daddy would load us kids up in the car and we would hunt for the best tree we could find on the lot. Daddy would tie it to the top of the car and we would hurry back home to decorate.

Mama would be organizing the decorations and cooking while we were out.

Daddy would set the tree up in the front window so all the neighbors could see and we set about decorating to our heart’s content. The beautiful delicate colored balls, the spiral-shaped tree topper, and mounds and mounds of silver garland — each strand placed separately at Daddy’s instruction. The big, multicolored strands of lights would elicit lots of ooohs and ahhhs from us all.

Mama would fuss with the tree skirt until every wrinkle was out and slyly move an ornament to a location left bare by our over- eager little hands.

I remember lying on the floor looking up at the tree and wishing I could stay little forever. It was a wonderful time and the memories are so special. I love my parents for that one time of year, regardless of their financial circumstances, giving so much to us both physically, with innumerable gifts, and emotionally, with that warm fuzzy feeling that lasts a lifetime.

Christmas today is all about giving. I truly could not care less about gifts for myself. My pleasure comes solely from scouring the stores for just the right thing for my grandsons, my son and daughter-in-law, and of course Dear Don. They all make my Christmas wonderfully magic and I thank them for blessing me so.

I stood in an impossibly long line that was irritatingly slow the other day to make a purchase that wasn’t Christmas related. In front of me in line were a harried mother and her little girl of 4 or 5. The little girl was having a small meltdown that threatened to go full strength at any moment. I listened as her poor mother tried without success to calm her down.

“You only bought bulbs and candles,” the little girl cried.

“Yes,” said Mother, “ that’s all we are here for.”  

“Well, I wanted to get SOMETHING,” the little girl spewed through gritted teeth. She had her hands on her hips and she was tapping her foot in anger.

“It’s almost time for Santa,” Mom countered, hoping to sway the little girl into coming around.

“Well, I want something now!” the little girl demanded.

‘No,” said Mom, almost sounding unconvinced herself.

Thinking I might help by changing the subject, I asked the little girl if she knew what Christmas was all about.

“Yes,” she informed me with a huff. “At church it’s about baby Jesus, and at Wal-Mart it’s about me.”

There was no need to discuss anything any further with the perceptive child. She had it all figured out. So this is Christmas?

I will close with this thought. We are now at the moment we call Christmas in this country. A celebration of want and greed and overload of every reasoning we have. It starts well before warm weather ends and continues until it pounds us into broke, guilty submission.

But this is not Christmas. Christmas is the celebration of the birth of Jesus born into the utmost of simplicity in a stark cattle stall wrapped in rags lying in a feeding trough we call a manger. There were just a few animals there to observe this miracle.

It has taken us 2009 years to get to the point we are at today. A shameful spectacle where the true meaning is completely lost as we indulge one another and ourselves. I can be counted as one of the indulgers.

But I will strive to do better next year and see beyond the obvious, and get back to the simplicity and wonderment of the birth of our Lord and Savior. You get the picture.

Merry Christmas from the Hopkinses.

(Contact Sherry at swhcsc@wildblue.net)