As soon as the clock struck 7 am, my siblings and I would race down the stairs and head straight to our parents' bedroom. It was as if they hadn't heard our chatter from the room above or the sound of our feet rushing down the stairs directly above their room. They acted completely surprised when we burst in, shouting, "It's Christmas! Time to get up! Santa's been here!"

We then rushed out of the room and went straight to the tree. According to our family tradition, we could open our stockings and see what Santa had left for us while Mom and Dad headed to the kitchen to prepare their coffee and tea. Each one of us would dump our stockings on the carpet, marvel at the treats, and unwrap any small gifts Santa may have left inside. 

If the coffee and tea were taking too long, we might start sneaking a touch of the gifts or shifting them around, searching for the ones with our names on them. Dad would soon walk into the room, coffee in hand, his booming voice filling the air as he called out, “Ho Ho Ho…Merry Christmas!” Mom would then stroll into the living room, tea in one hand and a smile on her face that could light up the room brighter than any Christmas lights. It was the day she poured her heart into creating the best day ever for her family.

By the time Mom and Dad were settled in their chairs, nothing short of an army could have held us back from the gifts. Gifts were distributed, and the anticipation was palpable as we each eagerly waited for our turn to unwrap our first gift. Smiles were exchanged knowingly between giver and receiver. The fireplace sparkled behind us. It was a Christmas morning that could have been any child's dream come true.

One particular year, as the unwrapping came to an end, a small gift tucked near the trunk of the tree caught my eye. As tiny as it was, it seemed a Christmas miracle that it hadn’t gotten thrown aside in the midst of the chaos and wrapping paper.

“Look”, I said, as I reached for the gift. “Here’s one more present. It says ‘Everybody’ on the tag.”

Curious to see what such a small gift might hold, everyone set aside their presents, and quietly waited for me to unwrap it. I carefully tore open the gift, making sure not to damage the precious item.

“What is it?” my little brother asked, as everyone patiently waited for me to reveal its contents.

I held up the piece of paper, and then read its words aloud. It simply said, “In the middle of all the fun of the presents, let’s not forget the real reason for Christmas. It’s Jesus’ Birthday.”

Smiles and nods were exchanged around the room, and someone suggested we take a moment to pray. So, amidst the noise and excitement of that Christmas morning, with wrapping paper scattered from wall to wall, the six of us bowed our heads and thanked God for our many blessings, especially the most precious gift of all—His Son, Jesus.

I pray that as we journey through the Christmas season, with all its traditions and preparations, we each take the time to pause and remember "the most precious gift of all—His Son, Jesus."

Thoughts to ponder:

What are some traditions you hold close to your heart?

Is there a meaningful story from your childhood you could share with your family this year?

What can you do this Christmas season to help those around you remember the true meaning of Christmas?

Misty Cramer ©2024