Christmas Eve, 2010

I love Christmas Eve.  Love it better than Christmas.  There is something about it that is just so magical - a perfect combination of hope, anticipation, reverence.  As a child I remember keenly the experience of walking out of midnight services at Redford United Methodist, in Old Redford, and looking up into a starlit winter's sky wondering which of those stars was the star.

My Christmases as a child were almost representative of living in two families.  For a large part of my early childhood, there was just me and my older brothers. The three of us, oldest to youngest, are separated by less than four years.  The Christmases from my young childhood are in my mind very old fashioned. BB Guns, electric tabletop football games, litebright - there was never anything electronic.  We got GI Joes - the real ones with scars, fully rendered combat equipment, and fuzzy hair.  Think pre "Kung-Fu grip" GI Joe.  Those were the days when there might be a football under the tree or a new ball glove.

Our family traditions included the Winter Carnival at Cobo Hall in Detroit and then an entire day of Christmas shopping at JL Hudson's flagship store in downtown Detroit.  How I loved that store with its uniformed elevator operators and Santa's Castle on the top floor.  It was the kind of magic you only see in the movies these days it seems.

I remember peering out the front, second story windows of that old craftsman on Cooley and thinking the red light from each passing airplane was Rudolph and that we had to quick get into bed and fall asleep because we wouldn't want Santa to come and find us awake.  My brothers would conk me on the head and remind me that it was an airplane.  Secretly I knew they were wrong, because who would be on an airplane on Christmas Eve?  Christmas Eve was for family, and church, and singing the songs that made me feel as if I could fly.  People did not travel on Christmas Eve, I knew at least that much in my 6 year old brain. But I kept that fact to myself - determined to be the first one asleep and thus guarantee Santa would keep on the "nice" list.

There is a picture somewhere of the three of us from that night, probably just like there is somewhere in your home of you and perhaps your siblings, all jammed into one bed sleeping like a litter of puppies waiting for the blessings of a Christmas morning.  Though I haven't actually held that picture in a long long time, I can see it today as if it was yesterday that it was snapped. Those days are long ago in my memory - but I am grateful to have lived them.

As the three of us grew older, there eventually came a sister - nine years younger than me (the youngest boy) - and with her the opportunity to live Christmas Eve once again propelled by the zeal of a young child.  One memory in particular stands out of a time we all turned out our pockets on Christmas Eve to see, could we afford one more gift from my younger sibling. A bike she coveted was on sale at the local toy store (which was open until midnight on Christmas Eve).  Turns out we had just enough to buy it. My older brother David, home on break from MSU and an expert at puzzles, and me, home from break at CMU and an expert at holding the light, stayed up all night putting it together for her.

The bike assembled and certified as safe by David, we tumbled into bed around 5:00 am and, sharing the front room of my parents' home in Farmington Hills, had just wished each other a hushed "Merry Christmas," when my sister - probably around age 9 or 10, appeared at the door screeching her own "Merry Christmas!" She tore off down the stairs in search of treasure and actually rode that darned bike all over the lower level of my parents' home. Crashed it right at the bottom of the stairs and woke up the entire house.  For a long time I remembered it as my favorite Christmas Eve ever.

Each Christmas Eve I am also reminded of the troops serving in far away places.  My oldest brother, Pat, entered the Air Force when I was just 15.  His absence that first Christmas was the first time in my life my family was not together for Christmas Eve.  Much like, when I was younger, I thought that no one in their right mind would fly on Christmas Eve, so too did I think that all families were always together on that night.  When my mother told me that "no, Patrick won't be coming home for Christmas" I couldn't understand it. It did not feel like Christmas without all of us there together. There isn't a Christmas Eve that goes by that I don't think of him off serving in California or Korea on the many Christmas Eves when he was gone.

My wife and I were married just short of Christmas almost 20 years ago and we honeymooned in Virginia over the holiday.  I remember that the town, Williamsburg, was absolutely brilliant in its Christmas splendor.  On Christmas Eve we looked in the yellow pages to find a Methodist Church (yes, the actual yellow pages - this was before the era of the Internet or smartphones) and attended a gorgeous candle-lit ceremony in a 200 year old church.  The songs were all the good ones and the excitement of being newly married also made for a memorable Christmas Eve.

Now-a-days I am a dad myself.  I have two little ones; two great little ones, who share their Christmas dreams with me.  Their excitement is quite possibly visible from space or maybe registering on any of a number of Richter scales in the greater Midwest.  But it is an excellent excitement.  A time to not just believe in the magic, but to paint yourself with it.  Revel in it.

Where before we used advent calendars to count the days, now we have "an app for that" on my iPod Touch.  Though the medium is different, the experience is the same - the kids and I huddle up and one or the other of them will touch the sparkly Santa on the glistening screen to learn how many more "sleeps til Christmas."  It's not my normal, but it is theirs and I keep telling myself they will remember these days, always.

What is normal for me is the Christmas Eve ceremony at church.  We will, literally, travel over the river and through the woods to grandmother's house for an annual appearance at the church where my wife has been a lifelong member; where her mom was the church secretary; where we were married 20 Christmases ago.  And we will steal our way into the balcony with our rambunctious children, and sing the songs in that great vaulted sanctuary.

That is perhaps my most favorite Christmas Eve tradition - the gathering of the faithful; that very human act of assembling the community of faith to raise their voices and sing songs of hope, and love.  Redemption, and faith.  Sitting where we sit in the balcony with the voices swelling beneath us; they lift us up as if we are topside on a ship being lifted by a swelling sea of faith.  I am not much of a singer - so I am careful to watch my voice and tone.  What moves me most is listening to the voices of all the other people fill the church.

Each of them traveling their own path in life, every one of them unique in their hopes, fears, burdens and blessings.  They all come to that place to propel their love, hope, and faith by their voices. They sing the ancient songs that say "we are here, we matter, and we are grateful."

For me, every Christmas Eve, no matter my stage of life, has been marked by those songs - "Oh Come All Ye Faithful," "Hark! the Herald Angels Sing," "Oh Little Town of Bethlehem," and, of course, "Silent Night."

It's Christmas Eve.  So first let me wish you and yours the same Christmas Wish I have made for all of my family and friends each Christmas for the last 20 years - that you are well, and warm, and loved. And that this next year is the one where, for the good of the world's children, we find peace in our time. Thanks for coming by my blog today.  No matter where you are, I hope you are in the company of your fine family; that everyone sets aside their worries, hurts, past offenses and takes a moment to savor the precious gifts of faith, hope, love and community that bind a family together.  This Christmas Eve, my wish is that you find your spirits raised upward on the notion that this magical time is a great gift.

With love and gratitude, my thoughts are with you all; my friends and family, this Christmas Eve.

Dennis
smalltowndad@hotmail.com