I’ve lived 2,200 miles from my family for two and a half years now, and I miss them. My longing for then is not debilitating, as homesickness is for some, but it is present in my day to day life and reminds me to cherish the opportunities I have been given. Most of all I miss my niece and my nephew. They are so young and are changing in so many fantastic ways. I am so excited to see them at the holidays, but also so very sad. I can see how much they’ve grown and I then realize how much of their lives I have missed. I take a deep breath, pick them up and hug them, and soak up each second I have with them. I love going home for Christmas.
Christmas with the Davis family is a thing of Christmas carols and holiday television specials. Decorations and caroling beginning the weekend after Thanksgiving and continuing through New Year’s, Christmas has always been THE time of year in my life. For the first fifteen or so years of my life Christmas was always the same, regardless of where we lived, and we lived countless places!
Family from abroad would all converge upon the old family estate in Delaware, Ohio on Christmas Eve. The sooner you could arrive, the better. The kids would go out and play in the snow, often trekking over near Uncle Chuck’s house to go sledding. If an adventurous adult or two would allow themselves to be coaxed, perhaps the sleds could get pulled behind an ATV or a snowmobile. Oh! Snowmobiles! When I was very young, they were an integral part of the snowy season, and specifically the afternoon fun on that special day of gathering. The adults would all stay in the chalet and set put the potluck buffet dinner that would satisfy the appetites of the forty or so of us. They would talk and laugh, catching up on the life that had transpired while they were away form their siblings. Some would shoot pool, some play table tennis, and others would sit at the piano playing and singing carols of old and carols of new.
Like I said, a scene you only here about in Christmas carols and see on Saturday television specials.
As the afternoon drew to a close, the kids would come in to get warm. The children would integrate themselves into the merriment of the adults, ultimately usurping the billiards table and tennis table from their elders … but not the piano. Aunt Sherrie, Dad, Aunt Leza and several of the older cousins would still be playing and singing, providing the perfect atmosphere and enhancing the overall mood of the evening. The kids who weren’t distracted by games and singing were scurrying around the Christmas Tree attempting to locate the gifts they would receive as a result of the family gift exchange; Grandma or Grandpa Davis ever shooing the snooping youth away.
Eventually the family would gather for evening prayer. Holding hands, uniting every member, a prayer of thanks and of blessing would be said over the evening. Dinner would then commence, and I need not explain what that circus was like. Just picture a Christmas comedy staring Steve Martin and mass of overly energetic tykes, got it, good.
After dinner the entirety of the family would squeeze into the living room area. A Christmas prayer would be said, some scripture would be read (usually from the book of Luke) and then the First Gift would be unwrapped. The youngest member of the family would choose a small unimpressive box wrapped in simple brown paper and would open it before the loving gaze of the family. In the box was a small male baby doll, wrapped in swaddling cloth. T was pronounce that just in the same manner Christ came to humanity, unassuming and honest. He came to us to teach us and lead us, to sacrifice for us and to save us. So, as God gave us the amazing gift of His Son, so we remember that gift with this gesture. It was always a very reverent, loving, warm and joyful moment.
The distribution of the gifts would then take place, the children receiving theirs first. The family would watch as each child opened their packages and would encourage with smiles and laughter and congratulations. Eventually the kids would be distracted with their toys and whatnot, and the adults would take time to exchange gifts and their love.
At the conclusion fo the evening my father would pack our gifts, bags, my mother, my brother and I into our minivan for the trek to Cincinnati. We would arrive late in Cincinnati, at the home of my mother’s sister, and my brother and I would quietly join our cousins in the basement for a few hours of sleep before Christmas morning arrived.
We would wake up and race upstairs to find my uncle drinking some coffee, my aunt still in her warm bathrobe, my parents and my maternal grandparents sitting around the table conversing and enjoying each others company. We would eat breakfast and then exchange gifts. Christmas day was spent playing games, tormenting the younger siblings, performing improvisational plays for our parents, and then ultimately would culminate with a wonderful Christmas dinner … during which Grandma Curran would have a glass of wine, which always seemed to delight the kids to watch. The following day we would make the trek back to our home, wherever that was at the time.
This is how I will always remember Christmas. These days the families are more spread out, we gather in alternating locations, and sometimes we don’t make it to Cincinnati. Regardless of the changes, I will always hold onto the magic of the holiday routine, it was a joyous part of my childhood. I will always wait until after Thanksgiving to do anything relating to Christmas. I will always have carols on the radio, often singing along. I will always long for snow and sledding. I will always grow teary eyed, happy and warm when I think of the Christmases past . . . and I will strive to give my children something similar to cling to with childish wonderment, even into their latter years of adulthood. This is Christmas to me.
So, when I hear Linda Ronstadt belting out the lyrics to “I’ll be home for Christmas”, I can’t help but to smile and feel warmth in my heart.
SA&LC,
Ryan
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