Today, I looked back upon years past and discovered that whether I recognized them or not, there are many traditions that I have without making them traditions. They are something that everyone has this time of year. For me, however, I've discovered that some of them have not necessarily been out of a forward-motion thought process...it's simply become.
Traveling to my grandparents has always been something I look forward to every Christmas. But there are little things that I've realized have become traditions, become those little things I look forward to that mean more to me than I sometimes want to admit.
For the many years we lived in Hawley, we would travel to the farm during the night after Dad finished preaching the Christmas Eve service. (Often, it was our Christmas eve program, filled with cute costumes and even cuter kids that forgot their lines - except for me. The kids would be showered with gifts and were given a brown sack filled with peanuts and chocolate goodies.) The White Oldsmobile was packed and as soon as dad locked the church doors, we would be on our way!
As I sat in the back seat, even before my sister was born, I would lay down in the back seat and lean my head against the door, gazing up into the sky. I remember vividly the tall trees that lined the road, dusted with a soft sprinkling of snow. I remember years with stars that filled the sky so brilliantly that I could gaze at them for hours. The "monster" - a face that appeared in the stars if you look closely, was a favorite of mine to spot. Every now and then I'd let out an "Are we there yet?" - until finally my eyes would fall so heavy and I'd fall fast asleep. I'd startle awake when my dad turned that sharp turn onto the gravel road, that for years has been known as "Grandpa's Road." It was then that I'd exclaim "Already? It just feels like 5 minutes!" to which my parents would reply "The drive always goes faster if you fall asleep." (I literally thought I could speed up time by falling asleep.) I would then unbuckle my seat belt with excitement and lean forward onto the middle portion of the front seat - the full length one seat with a divider in the middle. The rule was that once we got to Grandpa's Road, I was allowed to take off my seatbelt. Partially, I'm sure, it was because I was so excited and antsy at this point that a seatbelt could hardly constrain me.
As I sat in the back seat, even before my sister was born, I would lay down in the back seat and lean my head against the door, gazing up into the sky. I remember vividly the tall trees that lined the road, dusted with a soft sprinkling of snow. I remember years with stars that filled the sky so brilliantly that I could gaze at them for hours. The "monster" - a face that appeared in the stars if you look closely, was a favorite of mine to spot. Every now and then I'd let out an "Are we there yet?" - until finally my eyes would fall so heavy and I'd fall fast asleep. I'd startle awake when my dad turned that sharp turn onto the gravel road, that for years has been known as "Grandpa's Road." It was then that I'd exclaim "Already? It just feels like 5 minutes!" to which my parents would reply "The drive always goes faster if you fall asleep." (I literally thought I could speed up time by falling asleep.) I would then unbuckle my seat belt with excitement and lean forward onto the middle portion of the front seat - the full length one seat with a divider in the middle. The rule was that once we got to Grandpa's Road, I was allowed to take off my seatbelt. Partially, I'm sure, it was because I was so excited and antsy at this point that a seatbelt could hardly constrain me.
Today, I found myself listening to my favorite Christmas album (since receiving it in the 6th grade), gazing out the window, peering at the snow-laden ground beneath me and the brilliant stars above me - that is, once we got close enough to McGregor for there to be snow on the ground This winter has been severely lacking in that form of precipitation. Mom and dad were sitting up front as usual, chatting away or just listening to a tape (yes, cassette tape) of Lorie Line. My sister took up the backseat, which has been her designated seat for several years now. (She, like me, likes the back left.) I sacrificed the back for the middle, yet made myself quite comfortable enough, now curled up under a blanket and fluffing a pillow beneath my head. As we pulled onto Grandpa's Road, I unbuckled my seat belt as I have in years past and watched out the front window in anticipation of seeing the lights of the house that we will soon greet. Dad drive around the curvy windy road, and soon we are rounding the last curve in the driveway. I get my first glance at the house this year. It's not as decorated as normal, but it still has lights. There's a small tree on the new porch, complete with its own dusting of snow.
I step out of the van, just I have done for countless previous years, as Grandma opens the front door to greet us. We gather our first handful, then step into the house, barely able to set our things down before hugs and kisses abound us.
The house smells its familiar smell - firewood. Added to that smell is the smell of Christmas goodies - mini-cupcakes, cookies, food in preparation for tomorrow.
The house smells its familiar smell - firewood. Added to that smell is the smell of Christmas goodies - mini-cupcakes, cookies, food in preparation for tomorrow.
Dad and I quickly unload the van - a "chore" that started once Naomi was born, that has simply just become "one of those traditions."
The old massive bulbs that once dawned Christmas Trees of past have since been replaced with new LED lights, but yet the tree still appears the same as it does every other year, as it's sparse of full branches, yet plump and is just tall enough to graze the ceiling.
Oh, there are other things that have changed. The Christmas tree is no longer squished in the corner of the living room with the windows looking out. The rocking chair and its matching ottoman have been reupholstered. The wood fireplace was replaced with a more energy-efficient corn-fueled fireplace, which has been out of order for the past several years. (It's just one of those things on "That List of Stuff that needs to get fixed but still hasn't yet.") Tiki and Patti, two trusty old dogs, have passed on, leaving their mark on the legacy of Davis Family dogs. But Girl, an addition to the family when Diane and the girls moved up 7 years ago, greeted me as I exited the van. My "bed" is no longer upstairs, as it is currently occupied. But I have been quite comfortable on the pull-out "bed" from the chair in the entry-way living room.
Tomorrow, after the church service, a tradition of other sorts will take place. Over the past 5 years or so, my cousin Tiffany and I have battled it out to see who can "wrap" the other's gift the best. It started with duct tape, a few "mixed up" boxes, and stress relief pills. Yes, I was the instigator, I will admit to that. Since then, we've discovered that packing tape is far more irritating and impossible to unravel, expanding styrofoam insulation should be done in layers and takes hours and hours and hours to dry, nor should you use water to attempt to get it off in the event it should land on your skin, ice melts quickly under water, both wood and plexiglass boxes can be broken by slamming it on cement really really hard, and sometimes an adventure that brings you on a trip down memory lane is fun - as long as you can remember your shared memories, since that's where your gifts will be located. We have done basically everything short of cement. (Just in case you're wondering about some of these things, the rule of the game is simple: One must not use any tool or cutting device or any kind, nor may anyone else assist you in the unwrapping and obtaining of one's present.)
One may ask, how does one come to do such terrible things to their cousins for Christmas? Simple. It runs in the family. Our parents used to do similar things to each other as well. Although, if I must admit this as well, we have taken things to much higher levels than they ever did. I guess if it runs in the family genes, it must escalate...I can only dream of what our children will do. (YIKES!)
It's as I look back on years past and make the connection that I sit here today doing the exact same thing that I realize just how blessed I truly am to have these traditions. There is snow on the ground, and with the severe lack of snow this year, my heart smiled the biggest smile as I caught my first glimpse of it on our drive up. Seeing all the Christmas lights up on houses, especially Grandma's as we pulled in, was heart-warming. Hugs and kisses to go around, health and happiness, joy.
But perhaps the biggest tradition of all is the one I've been familiar with all my life.
The birth of my savior. The one who has brought me through bad Christmases and terribly tough times. The one who has come to my rescue more often than I'd like to admit. The one who has forgiven me for the countless mistakes I've made and given me a stamp of approval for admittance into heaven. The one who, 2011 years ago, was born in a town named Bethlehem and grew up to become the one who saves the earth from itself.
Tomorrow (or rather, today), we celebrate because God sent HIS son to us, because he knew we needed him. And that tradition is by far the greatest and most worthy reason to celebrate!
So as I look around at my family tomorrow, laughing and making jokes, opening gifts and sharing hugs, I will sit back and think how grateful I really am for all God has done for me. He has blessed me.
The birth of my savior. The one who has brought me through bad Christmases and terribly tough times. The one who has come to my rescue more often than I'd like to admit. The one who has forgiven me for the countless mistakes I've made and given me a stamp of approval for admittance into heaven. The one who, 2011 years ago, was born in a town named Bethlehem and grew up to become the one who saves the earth from itself.
Tomorrow (or rather, today), we celebrate because God sent HIS son to us, because he knew we needed him. And that tradition is by far the greatest and most worthy reason to celebrate!
So as I look around at my family tomorrow, laughing and making jokes, opening gifts and sharing hugs, I will sit back and think how grateful I really am for all God has done for me. He has blessed me.
May you be as blessed as I am. Not only to have such a great family surrounding you during the Holiday season, but also to realize what the biggest blessing truly is - the gifts of love, forgiveness, and joy that can only come from Jesus Christ and the Heavenly Father.
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