Tonight I re-read one of my favorite books, The Twenty-Four Days Before Christmas, by Madeleine L'Engle. I like to re-read her books often, and that seemed like a fitting one for this time of year. I tried to read it aloud to my girls a few days ago, but they groaned and begged me not to. It's something new lately that they have lost interest in - read-alouds. I'm still not sure exactly when that happened. It was all still good this summer, when we read Redwall, but at some point this fall, they have become too "big" to be read to. I think I am in mourning for this, as it was something of a tradition for us, to read books aloud in the evenings. We've read Island of the Blue Dolphin, The Three Musketeers, Two Princesses of Bamarre, The Day They Came to Arrest the Book, A Wrinkle in Time, The Shakespeare Stealers, The Adventures of Tom Sawyer, Shabanu, and countless others. We passed through the time after Hurricane Ike reading Many Waters, and they loved it. Maybe no electricity and nothing else to do in the dark is the secret. I could always trip a breaker, I suppose.
But the book I read tonight talks about Christmas traditions, and how the protagonist's family had a tradition of doing something each of the 24 days leading up to Christmas, something to prepare. Since Advent literally means "to come," and it's a time of preparation, I love the idea of using each day to make preparations in a small way. I wonder if it's too late to bring in new traditions to our family.
We have a few, but even those have been challenged this year. Every year since before the children were born, we have decorated the Christmas tree while watching A Muppet Christmas Carol. This year we broke tradition - 7th grade finals were upon Katie and we decorated the tree to the less-soothing sound of Mr. Urbani's podcast on Roman, Ottoman, and African Empires. This is not a tradition I want started up - I'm hoping it dies with this Christmas. And speaking of trees, we've all had so much going on, our tree did not go up until a little over a week before Christmas.
We have not read A Christmas Carol together this year. And we have not - yet - baked cookies for neighbors and friends.
I did manage to buy each girl a Christmas ornament for their trees. The idea is that they will each have a box full of ornaments to take with them for their own first homes. This idea was born out of my frustration the first year I lived away from my family. I had exactly $45 to buy decorations for a tree. I was faced with buying a lot of very cheap ornaments, or having only a few very nice ornaments. I chose to buy an angel for my tree, and some beautiful wooden beaded garland strands. All of the other ornaments that first year were made by me, with the exception of some beautiful crocheted angels and snowflakes made by my grandmother. I still use those ornaments of hers, as well as the angel I bought that very first year as an "adult." It's become a tradition for my girls to fight over who puts the angel on top. Katie's too old to be lifted up any longer, and she had to stand on a step-stool this year. We have so many ornaments these days that we pick and choose what to use each year. I can't bear to part with them, and so I keep all of them, even the chipped and worn ones. Each one is a memory of its own - from dear friends, former students, family vacations, and silly gift exchanges.
Our Christmas traditions are skimpy, and with my children getting older, I feel that - in many ways - it is almost too late to start new ones. I grew up in a household without tradition. We moved often and we shed material belongings on a regular basis, and in our very logical, very functional home, there wasn't much room for traditions or unnecessary items. A few years ago, I found that my mother had thrown away all our childhood ornaments - including the handmade ones - and bought all new ornaments. Of my childhood holidays, only a handful of photographs survive. All of those are either me playing with new toys, by myself, or my brother and I propped up stiffly in front of the tree. There are no pictures of our whole family. This is because by mid-morning on Christmas, my parents would generally not be speaking to one another. Or they would, but it would be in the form of screaming and cussing.
Maybe the tradition I am leaving for my children is one of peace. If we don't have fabulous traditional outings or activities they can count on, then maybe the gift I can give them is one of remembering Christmas without cringing. Yes, there was the year a tornado knocked out our power on December 23rd and we spent Christmas Eve wrapped in dozens of blankets. And there was the Christmas that I was too sick to do anything but stare blankly at them while they opened presents. Yes, we ate at Denny's more than once for Christmas meals. But no one was fighting or screaming or throwing turkeys out windows.
So, this year my girls feel they are too old to be in the church's Christmas pageant. We'll sit and watch together, instead. And our Peter, Paul and Mary Christmas CD has been replaced by the Glee Christmas soundtrack. Change doesn't make our Christmas memories any less worthwhile. We're together, and no matter what changes, I'll still tear up watching the Christmas pageant, I'll still count to ten and hold my breath a lot while we're at my parents, and I'll still feel blessed to have my children with me on Christmas day. The gift of Christmas - the tradition - is, after all, to remind us how blessed we really are in Christ and in those we love. If we can find a way to celebrate that, and I mean ANY way, then it's a fine tradition to have.
