I was mesmerized by the very lights I had hung on the tree short weeks before. Somehow, on Christmas morning, they had transformed into a more brilliant and promising hue. They dazzled. There were gifts under the tree that were wrapped in beautiful paper and topped with frilly bows. The gift tags that hung limply upon them sparkled with all of their glittered edging. Just a wisp of the tree skirt was still visible here and there. It seemed to peek out with it's maroon and gold ruffled edge adding one more pretty detail to the room. I wanted to soak it all in and to pretend that this year it was what it once was ... a Christmas of my past. I found my mind drifting back to a simpler time ... The tree may or may not have been much to look at ... you could say the same of the gifts underneath the lush green branches. I knew Christmas was all about the birth of the baby Jesus but the thing that I looked forward to most were the gifts under the tree on Christmas morning. Pure and simple ... the thoughts of a child.

As I grew up and had children of my own, some of my most cherished memories are seeing their little eyes light up on Christmas morning as they first set eyes on the presents under the tree. Such innocence, such abandon; it has always done my heart good to witness it. It is what I miss most of all about Christmases now. In "days of old" my children seemed to just glory in the day regardless of the gifts or the lack thereof on Christmas morning.

Children don't react to Christmas now the same way they used to. I remember days of hoping for gifts under the tree and not even having a clue as to what they might actually be. Now I see (even small) children making a clamorous effort to get to the gifts placed under the tree with deliberate expectancy and they can almost tell you what is in the box before it is even opened. I often see the same children carelessly discard this package as if it doesn't meet with their expectations within moments of opening it. So sad. I pray that somehow we can bring back the message of Christmas to our youth that seems to have been forgotten. Christmas should be a wondrous, magical time for children ... a true reflection of the world receiving the greatest gift of all. As I ponder this, I know that the very thing that mesmerized me, as a child and year after year is the essence of Christmas. Christmas is a time for that which seems impossible to instead be shown as possible, indeed.

Okay ... now let me translate from English into what my husband refers to as my "Brendaesque" lingo ... I overslept ... the clock read something like 8:12AM and I panicked! I had to get that turkey in the oven before 9AM! As I am thinking about that ... I start thinking of everything else ... First of all, even though the turkey was "fresh" our nice, icy cold refrigerator had decided to chill it a bit too well (for the three days it was in there) and so the bird was going to require a cold water bath before it could go into the oven because Lord knows I didn't want to leave the giblets and neck inside while it baked away. (That bag that the giblets are packaged in can put off a pretty foul odor if it gets heated at all). Not to even mention (although here I am mentioning it) that I needed to prep the giblets for the stuffing. So ... 8:15 and I have decided that a quick trip to the potty ... and then a full blown run to the kitchen ought to have me back on track in no time.

(So much for sleeping in when there are no children living in the house anymore.) In a truly Olympic effort of trying not to waken the bear (my husband) I run on tiptoe around the house and try to quietly separate metal pans, etc. that will be needed in the day's meal preparation. Somewhere amidst that madness I realize that the tree lights are not plugged in. You guessed it ... I try to hurry and get all of the lights plugged in, the table set in all of its Christmas finery, the dishes kept up ... pots watched, ovens turned on and monitored, whip up this, whisk that, mix, mix, mix, something else and then HALT!!!

Somewhere around 8:30AM my eyes find themselves rooted to the tree about 30 feet away in the living room. Tears begin to flow as memories (not consciously recalled) come flooding back and I can almost hear my children's voices and see them in awe of the majestic tree and the gifts underneath. My children, I knew, couldn't be with me this year on Christmas Day ... they will be here this Saturday instead. Just as quickly as I had that thought another one interrupted ... an image of my father with his eyes closed, a white sheet draped over his still body. He passed on Christmas day, 1994 from this life into the beyond and the tears just kept falling. I will tell you this, those tears did wonders for our turkey this year! (JUST KIDDING!!!) I did not baste the turkey with my tears ... that is just part of my crazy sense of humor sneaking in (right on cue) when things start seeming just a bit too sad.

I had told those that would be in attendance this day that 3:00pm would be dinner time but that they were all more than welcome to come whenever they wanted. So ... everyone started showing up around noon and believe it or not I had managed, by then, to shower, dress and have the meal timed just right to even surpass our 3pm dinner time and serve around 2pm instead. This made everyone happy. After dinner we opened gifts and that's when I felt my heart lurch. Time changes things. (period)

Children grow up and out and I find that some traditions hold fast while others fade and I am saddened. I love adventure, I love change (silly me) FOR THE MOST PART ... but not at Christmas. Christmas was the one day I always held onto tradition the tightest. However, having said that please allow me to say this ... I am old enough (and I hope wise enough) to realize that NEW TRADITIONS CAN BE FORMULATED and established and even embraced and I found that little frown that tried so hard to creep itself upon my face Christmas morning was chased away when ...

I had emptied the dishwasher's last heavy load and had put everything away. The countertops and cooktop were once again sparkling. Daisy and Bella were tired and they kept pawing my ankles and shins with their tiny paws in hopes that I would pick them up and cart them off to bed. It had been a long day. I had a smile on my face because someone who means so much to me (and yet who hasn't been in my life much lately) found her way to our table today and I was so very thankful for that. Bob had been a wonderful host and the day was behind us. I bent to pull a plug out of the wall socket to turn off a cute little snowman in the corner and then I turned ... before me was the tree ... still lit. The only thing left lit in the entire room ... all of the overhead lights and lamps had been switched off earlier. I saw tradition standing before me and once again I wept. Tears of joy, this time. It was as if the Lord were reminding me, one more time that every Christmas will always be magical ... ALWAYS. Now that's tradition!!