When I was a child, the Christmas season was the most exciting time of the year for me.
It was the smell of fresh trees and sweet cookies. It was the sight of twinkling lights and decorated homes. It was the sound of bells ringing and people laughing.
For me, it really was the most wonderful time of the year. And it was all because of the little things that made the season so special.
It was the time of the year I could wear flannel one-piece pajamas and watch Christmas shows on the television. It was the warmth of a hot cup of chocolate against my bare hands as I listened to old Christmas tunes on my grandparents’ record player.
It was the excitement of hanging up every single homemade ornament on the Christmas tree with my mother. It was the glow of every light hitting my face from every tree, every yard and every home I encountered.
It was the hope and anticipation that Santa Claus was going to visit my house. It was the smile and happy greeting from anyone I ran into whether it be inside a store or on the sidewalk of Main Street.
As a child, it was sheer magic.
And then, it happened. I grew up, and the magic seemed to wear off a little.
Pretty soon, it became about buying the perfect present. It was all about budgeting for a Christmas that didn’t leave you poor in the new year. It was a worry that you wouldn’t have time to get a fresh tree to decorate. It was the hectic race to make sure every dinner dish and platter of sweets were ready for visitors.
But why can’t this year be different?
Having three children, with our youngest still small enough for school parties and Santa lists, is the perfect reminder about the magic of the season. For the past few years, I slowed down, took a deep breath and began to look at the season through the eyes of my children.
The children contain more belief and joy inside their tiny bodies than most adults have at all. It is about their excitement as we decorate our Christmas tree; a tree that I think might be too small seems like a giant one in their eyes as they wrap lights around and hang every ornament with care.
Even when our oldest teenage son and our youngest son get into fights over ornament placement, it’s those “not-so-Hallmark” moments that make me laugh.
It is the smiles on their faces as they watch the marshmallows float in their cups of hot chocolate. It is the happiness they display as they gathered in the living room to watch Christmas movies. The older kids might not admit it, but when they stick around to watch the Charlie Brown Christmas special, it warms my heart.
It is their excitement as we drive around town, surprised at the lights from homes and businesses. It is the look in my youngest son’s eyes as he finishes his letter to Santa...even though we had to create another one after the cat coughed up a hairball on the original one.
And it is the laughter they share as they count each day with happiness and joy, awaiting Christmas Day.
It is their belief in the season that brings the magic back to my own spirit every year.
It reminds me to thank the Lord for sending His Son. It reminds me to hold my children a little tighter as we watch the same movies I watched as a child. It reminds me to hand out more peppermint sticks. It reminds me to stare at the lighted tree a little bit longer.
My children remind me of the magic I so embraced as a child; the magic I perhaps lost along the way. For a moment, I feel like a kid again, and it feels good to be back.
