Our Christmas

We had a good Christmas - one full of family, turkey, stuffed stockings and floors littered with wrapping paper.

I know I'm an adult now because I'm more excited about others opening the gifts I've selected for them than I am about opening my own gifts.  I've always been a sucker for the spontaneity and enthusiasm that accompany the early-morning opening of gifts on Christmas Day (This year, thirty-some-odd years later, I apologized to my mother for waking at 3 o'clock in the morning when I was almost three to open gifts; my mom was five months pregnant with my sister at the time!).

We were spending Christmas Day and the days surrounding with my parents - my sister and her family visiting from Montana.  However, my sister had made arrangements for them to stay at a friend's vacated house during part of our visit.  This meant I'd be denied those early Christmas morning moments I so treasure, so we decided to open our gifts here at home Wednesday morning before traveling onto my parents'.

Gideon woke earlier than usual - around 6 - but he played quietly (and uncharacteristically) for almost an hour, until "the sun's up" (meaning the first few brushes of pinkish light skimming the horizon).  By that time, I'd convinced myself that he'd forgotten my mention the night before of opening the gifts under the tree in the morning.  But when he finally emerged from his room around 7, the first thing he said was, "We can open Christmas presents now."

It was great fun to share the holiday with my parents and sister and her family.  Gideon and his cousin Zane play well together and entertained us with their shenanigans.  They "helped" cut out and decorate Christmas cookies, spreading dough and flour all over my mom's kitchen floor and leaving mounds of red and green sugar sprinkles on their cookies, or perhaps just mostly on the cookie sheets.  They ripped excitedly through the wrapping paper on their gifts Christmas morning, relishing the ripping more than the gifts for those euphoric seven minutes.

But the highlight of the holiday was Wednesday night.  We all dressed up in corduroys and sweaters, turtlenecks and jackets, despite the mild mid-70-degree weather that afternoon and attended the "Children's Paper Sack Christmas program" at my grandparents' country church.  It was great to see cousins and other distant relatives, or almost-relatives.  I know tears welled up in mine and my sister's eyes when several of the youth gathered on stage to sing "Stille Nacht" and the singing rose up from around us as well.  The whole congregation, too, must have had a laugh when, just before the program started, Gideon approached me in the foyer and said, "I need to go potty."  (I was just so happy he was telling me, I was oblivious to how loudly he was saying it until later.)

And the program finished with the "paper sack" committee passing out brown paper bags overflowing with oranges, apples, Skittles, Kisses, lollipops and Cracker Jacks.  There were plenty of bags to go around, enough for people to take extras for those confined at home or elsewhere.

After the program, we returned to my parents' house, where we ate a satisfying supper of Green's sausage and homemade bread, prepared ahead of time by my dad.  Jams, butter, cheese, pickles were spread out on the table as well.

As we lingered around the table my two-year-old nephew - already a guitar-playing prodigy - brought out the four-stringed "bitar" (also known as a ukulele) borrowed from local friends and began leading the family in repeated, rousing renditions of the chorus of "Jingle Bells", learned just the day before from his "Papa".  He was a serious task-master, not allowing anyone to remain silent.  Anyone whose lips weren't moving was entreated, "Memaw", "Mimi" (which is me - having a short, simple name like "Amy" means there's been little need for nicknames and pet-names, so I'm in love with this new handle), "Papa".  His head swiveled around to those behind him even, making sure we were all participating.  This was the moment of Christmas for me - when I was completely there in that room, enjoying the laughter, the insistence and enthusiasm of toddlers, the total togetherness of our family.  It was joyful.

And my favorite gift (besides this time with family)?  Well, it actually came a week or so before Christmas, when something I was expecting didn't show up at all.  Gideon helped us share the news with others:

We're scared.  We're hopeful.

We're merry.

Hope yours was a merry Christmas, too.