Christmas Memories
The excitement is growing as we wait impatiently for the signal. Mum and Dad are in the lounge room with the door locked. When can we come in? Then we hear it. The sound of church bells at the beginning of Dad's special Christmas record, and the door opens. The bells give way to carols by a children's choir. The lights on our tree, a casuarina cut down from a stand near our little farm, are twinkling. The tangy fragrance of oranges mixes with the still, warm summer night of Christmas Eve. On the lounge are four piles of presents, one for each of us. My sister, my two brothers and me. A new school case, perhaps new school shoes, perhaps a new dress or shirt, some pencils, perhaps a toy but always several oranges, a special Christmas treat.
As a German migrant family in the early 1950's, we continued to celebrate Christmas on Christmas Eve, the traditional way of all Germans. Mum cooked special food and we received our presents. They were never wrapped. That was an unnecessary expense, and it never spoiled the wonderful suspense for us as children.
Then another hot Christmas day. A shimmering haze hangs just above the ground in the distance. There is no movement anywhere outside and the only sound is the song of the cicadas. But inside, around the table in the verandah room, shaded by a huge mulberry tree, there is plenty of noise as our family of six wheels and deals around the Monopoly board, a new Christmas girt. We play all day and then again all Boxing Day.
This family time is an enduring memory for me since my parents both worked all my school days, leaving early in the morning and returning home late at night. Relaxing, free time, without farm chores, were rare. The get together with family and friends would be on New Year's Eve.
When my siblings and I became Christians, we created a culture clash which our parents found very hard to accept. We went carol singing on Christmas Eve and wanted to go to church on Christmas morning. It wasn't until they also became Christians that we could all be together again.
There are times when my heart just yearns for those simple days again. No rush or bustle, no stress, no embarrassment of riches and overabundance of presents and food. Just the joy of being together as a family, taking time out together.
Each year, as the beautiful Jacaranda blooms, I try to prepare my heart and home for the coming of the King. I struggle to keep it simple and make it the time of love, joy, peace and sharing with my family and strangers, that God meant the coming of Jesus to be. May it be so, for us all, this year.
