I have many fond Christmas memories. When I was a child Christmas was my favorite holiday. I waited with anticipation as the tree was put up. We would wait a hand full of days so the branches could fall but I would wait impatiently for the day the lights finally got wrapped around it. That was all I needed…that meant Christmas had begun!
I was one of those kids who listened to Christmas music right after Halloween and scoffed at those who said no Holiday music till after Thanksgiving. Why waist those valuable days? And on December 25th, I would stay up till midnight in order to hear the very last Christmas song played on the radio.
We spent holidays all over the place. Some years it was at home, just our family of four, or when Mike was born, our family of five. Sometimes we would head to Grandma Dodie’s where she would put on a feast for a king. She would serve the meal at her cherry wood table that fit the entire family, placed right next to a gigantic tree in the living room. Her house would have made any HGTV show hide in disgrace, well, if it was airing in the 80’s! And then there were the year's spent in the little northern town of Warroad, Minnesota.
I do not know what my favorite Christmas would be. In fact, they have all been very memorable and wonderful. I do have a favorite scene though. A picture of Christmas I keep tucked in the back of my mind. It is the view looking out of my grandma's window on Christmas eve night, seeing the street line with cars as the church across from the house would begin to fill with townspeople going to worship. Families scurrying about, children all excited with holiday spirit. The church was a wooden, classic A-frame and looked beautiful in the moonlight, all decorated for the holiday. It is a scene I will not forget as it reminds me of the true meaning of Christmas.