rethinking Christmas

Where’s the Magic?–written in 1987 by a younger version of me

Last year I fought to find it, to find the magic of Christmas.  Presents had to be just right item for each person.  The beads on the tree had to hang in perfect scallops. The cookies had to be home baked and the Christmas Party clothes had to be red and green, especially bought for the big day.  When Christmas Eve festivities and Christmas Day doings were over, I felt empty and disappointed.  The magic had not been in the presents, the beads, the cookies, or the outfit.  I had worked myself right out of a merry Christmas.  Nothing met the expectations that I had placed on them.  I couldn’t really put my finger on what the magic should have been but I sure knew I had not found it.  And, to add a final blow, I got the flu the day after, probably because of my rundown state.  Through the eucalyptus fumes and tissues, I vowed that next year Christmas would be different.

The next December found a reformed participant, a relaxed soul.  I could still remember last year and how I had disrupted “Peace on Earth” with all my scurrying and worrying.  “None of that matters this year!” I announced to myself.  Presents were bought with barely a thought.  The beads on the tree drooped in all the wrong places.  The cookies came from the bakery and I wore a yellow sweater with a decorated palm tree on Christmas Day.  My plan was just to give up trying to rekindle the magic of Christmases past.  The results were startling.  On all the things I had once thought important, no one noticed the difference.  I was rested and had time to visit friends and great aunts and uncles.  More time for smiling and helping those in need warmed my heart.  The things I had done in the past to find the magic of Christmas had been the very things that hid that magic deeper and deeper.

Since I was moving slower I had time to notice the Christmas decorations around.  I walked to town one evening to enjoy the lights and chilled air.   A family friend had painted the nativity figures so I crossed the street to take a closer look.  As I wandered through the nativity on the lawn of the Baptist church, I looked down at that baby and felt that magic I had longed to regain.  I realized that in giving up all the trappings I had thought would make the magic appear, I found that the magic came through on its own in the joy of the gift that really matters the most.