Celebrations!

The central event of the week was Christmas, of course. Everything from Monday morning to Wednesday evening was the final big build up to it. Everything from Friday to today was the sad taking down of it. But Thursday was The Day. Christmas is one of the most anticipated days in all the year. A day full of traditions, fun, food, and family – with an eternally important, world-changing event at its core. I love the way we celebrate the birth of Jesus.

I know some people harp on the supposed pagan origins of some of our Christmas traditions. Yes, perhaps Yule and other winter solstice customs were incorporated into the celebration, but their pagan symbolisms were adapted and given Christian meanings and after a few thousand years of incorporation, I think the pagan associations are only remembered and stressed by fanatics with some sort of axe to grind.

The Christmas tree especially has come under attack. I've heard all sorts of explanations about its origins in Egyptian tree worship and Roman Saturnalia decorations. They are flimsy connections, if they connect at all. The Christmas tree as we know it originated among the German speaking peoples of Central Europe in the very Christian Middle Ages. They became popular in England during the reign of Queen Victoria (1819-1901), who imported her German husband, Prince Albert's, custom to the royal household. Early German settlers brought the custom to America with them in the 18th century, but decorating Christmas trees didn't become widespread until the 1830s. Now Christmas wouldn't seem like Christmas without them.

Victoria and Albert and children.

The royal Christmas tree, 1850.

And Santa Claus, for all his commercialization, began as Saint Nicholas (227-343), a 4th century bishop in Asia Minor in the Roman Empire, the patron saint of sailors, merchants, archers, repentant thieves, brewers, pawnbrokers, toy makers, and children. His legendary habit of giving gifts to children and a few thousand years of morphing through various cultures, has transformed him into the unrecognizable North Pole dweller we know today. But for all of that, I agree with Francis Church (1839-1906) who, in 1897, answered an inquiry to his newspaper about the existence of Santa Claus from eight year old Virginia O'Hanlon: "Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this world there is nothing else as real and abiding. No Santa Claus? Thank God he lives and he lives forever. A thousand years from now, maybe 10 times 10,000 years from now, he will continue to make glad the hearts of children."

From this to this.

No matter how the customs might have originated back in the ancient mists of time, I love the decorations, the food, the music, and the joyous ways we celebrate Christmas. Overly commercialized? Yes. Exploited for a hundred different reasons and causes? Yes. But what would the world be like without Christmas in all its variations? Winter would be unbearable and dark. So I say "bah, humbug!" to all its naysayers.

We were busy during the first part of the week getting everything ready for the day. We made food. We wrapped gifts. We prepared rooms and beds for family arriving to spend the holiday with us. The Thayns had planned to come up on Christmas Eve, but they decided to come up a day early. That meant that the party atmosphere kicked in on Tuesday. 

Speaking of atmosphere, when I went down to do the chores on Tuesday afternoon, I found a skunk in the live trap. The trap had been empty for weeks and I considered putting it away. I'm glad I didn't. This was a smaller skunk than the others. I decided to be merciful this time and not shoot it. I called Kurt and he came with his truck and a blanket. We covered the trap and drove up to the woods several miles away and let the skunk go. We came out of it only smelling slightly skunky. That's the fourth skunk I've had to deal with and probably not the last. I reset the trap.

Skunk number four.

Wednesday, Christmas Eve Day, was a little crazy with people going here and there. The kitchen was in constant use as we went through breakfast and lunch in waves along with food preparation for our evening's festivities adding to the mild chaos. And then it was time for our Christmas Eve Celebration.

The Shilligs hosted the festivities. They had an amazing buffet of savory foods and desserts laid out. They made some of it, we made some of it, and Sarah made some of it. It was all so delicious. We ate and visited and then it was time for our traditional activities. First we sang some carols. Next, we played the Left and Right Game, handing gifts either left or right as Julie read a story loaded with those words. When the story ended, we opened whatever gift we were holding and then exchanged with each other. After that, we played our Twelve Days of Christmas Game with everyone drawing numbers between one and twelve and standing to sing when our part came up. Then we sang a quiet carol to settle down and Kurt read the account of the birth of Jesus from Luke chapter two. Following that, we told the story again using our block Nativity set (thank you Uncle Bud and Aunt Dolly). Then it was time to clean things up, come home, and get the children settled in for their long winter's nap. I don't know if they had visions of sugar plums dancing in their heads as they nestled all snug in their beds, but I think they had plenty of sugar coursing through their veins.

The savory buffet.

The dessert buffet.

Playing Left and Right.

The Nativity with Mabel as the star of Bethlehem.

After things were quiet and tidied, I did what I love to do on Christmas Eve. I sat in the darkened house with just the lights from the tree and one bayberry candle glowing, and thought on times past and people I miss. Those quiet moments are full of a sad, happy stillness crowded with memories that I conjure up like the ghosts of Christmases past. Then I tapped out the little snatch from the Nutcracker on the wall – dit, dah-dah-dah, dit-dit, dit, dit, daah – something I've done every Christmas Eve since 1968, and I went to bed.

Late on Christmas Eve.

I was up first on Christmas morning at my usual time. I'm always up first, no matter what the day. I like to have those hours at the start of the day to myself. The children slept later than I expected. By 8:00, Stacey and I were the only ones up and about and I was the one growing anxious for things to get underway. Russell was the first one down for breakfast. Finally the rest of the house stirred to life. After some doing, we managed to get everyone in place for our traditional Christmas Morning on the Stairs photo. And then it was time to load up and head to the Foster's where all our presents were waiting.

Russell was the first one downstairs for breakfast.

We took our traditional Christmas morning on the stairs photo.

Christmas morning at Fosters. Waiting for us to arrive.

Upon arriving at the Foster's, the Thayn children first had to find their hidden stockings. Once found, they opened the treasures in them.

Christmas stocking treasures.

The rest of the morning was spent distributing and unwrapping presents. There were so many thoughtful, practical, and fun gifts.

Hannah helping Russell put a Lego set together.

The matching pajama group.

The Thayns.

Sarah, Tosh, and Florence.

Florence, Mabel, Miriam, and June.

Rachel.

Me and Stacey.

After the gifts were unwrapped, there was lots of playing with new toys. And then it was time to get ready for the rest of the day. Some of us came back to the house to eat a little lunch and grab a nap. Others stayed to get things ready at Foster's for dinner. We gathered again at 2:00. The Shilligs, Kuprovs, and the missionaries joined us. We had our traditional Christmas dinner – ham, funeral potatoes, zesty carrots, rolls, fruit salad, and a lot of leftovers from Christmas Eve. This year's ham was from our own pigs.

Working our way through the feast.

Playing one of our new games with the missionaries.

Then, after a long and exciting day, we cleaned up, packed up, and came home. Getting everyone settled down and off to bed took some doing as the day's excitement lingered, but finally the house settled into a slumber.

Friday was Boxing Day. We attach a different meaning to the day than the countries that observe it as an extension of Christmas. Boxing Day for us is when we box up all the decorations, take down the tree, and restore some semblance of order to the house. The day got off to a reluctant start. I actually slept in a little, but was still up hours before the rest of the house rolled out of bed. We knew bad weather was coming later in the day, so we organized a project to help the Fosters move boxes out of the house they are renting into a container over at their farmhouse. As we were finishing that, the weather arrived – freezing rain and sleet. Then after a lunch of leftovers was eaten and cleared away, we brought in the boxes from the woodshed and we began the sad process of disassembling Christmas. It's an emotionally complicated process. I love putting things back in place and cleaning things up, but also feel sad that Christmas is over. The saddest part of it is dragging the tree, stripped of its former glory, out of the house. It sat on the front porch until Saturday afternoon when I dragged it out to the burn pile to await immolation.

The once glorious tree, bereft and left to burn.

With the house restored to its pre-Christmas condition, we spent the rest of the day on Friday playing games while ice fell from the sky. I was nervous that the power might go out, so I filled the bathtub and every pitcher with water. One of my Christmas gifts was a Lego kit from Hannah. My children have always loved Legos, but I didn't grow up with them and never did much with them. Hannah gave me a Lego kit for my birthday, a sakura set. This time she gave me an orchid kit. She helped me put it together on that afternoon.

Assembling my Lego kit.

The finished kit.

Saturday morning and into the day, the house still hummed with activity. The Thayns were leaving in the afternoon, and there was a flurry of game playing, toy playing, while also packing up and preparing to leave.  When the Thayns drove off later in the afternoon, there was still some energy left as we tidied up. Then the house sank into its sad post-holiday stupor.

I had my eye on the weather. The forecast kept changing, calling for rain, freezing rain, and snow in different orders at different times over Saturday night and this morning. I considered canceling church. This morning I looked out before sunrise and things looked okay. I looked at the latest predictions online and couldn't tell what to expect. I dressed for church and then bundled up and walked down to the highway. The sky was that grayish pink color. Our road was the usual treacherous mess, but highway 49 looked okay. I decided not to cancel church.

Sunrise this morning.

We rode to church with Kurt. Attendance was light. A lot of people are either away or sick. Our meetings went well. As we were leaving to come home, it started to rain. After midnight tonight, it's supposed to turn into freezing rain and then snow for the rest of the week. It's December being December, a wintry way to end the year.

So far we don't have plans to do much to welcome in 2026. I'm sure we'll eat some traditional food on New Years Eve and Day. I think our celebrations will be pretty low key. I don't mind. Easing in to a new year is a good way to begin it. There will be plenty of more exciting things in store for us as the year advances. I wish you a very Happy New Year!