Sparks from the Fire

If you missed the first part of this series, go to The Spirit of Christmas – Part 1

Christmas Eve
As a Sunday School teacher for some 25 years, I used to tell my kids, “Thanksgiving is not about eating turkey, Easter is not about the Easter bunny and Christmas is not about Santa Claus.”  As hard as those lessons were to get across to a young boy, my parents, Dolly and Lyman, worked constantly to instill the proper concepts in both my brother and me.

I think, remembering back, that they were both pretty smart about it.  In the build of anticipation towards Christmas morning, they kept Christmas Eve as the sacred occasion.  It was not a night of opening presents, usually just one and that one a boring one like socks from Nana or underwear from Uncle Dick.  There was always last minute wrapping involved, but always, the greater portion of the evening was spent discussing or exploring the true meanings of Christmas.

The birth of Jesus was not forgotten.  It was my mom who made sure of this.  We were not allowed to go out to parties and out with our friends.  This was a family night and a night for only family.  I never minded this.  It was just the way it was done.  Besides, I loved being with my family.  My brother was my hero, my mom was always my best friend and my dad was, well… Dad.  They were always enough.

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If you missed the first part of this series, go to The Spirit of Christmas – Part 1

Christmas Morning
As a boy, going to sleep Christmas Eve and waking up Christmas morning were always agonizing.  First of all, it was impossible to get to sleep at night knowing that Santa would soon be coming down the chimney, and then the slightest noise or light would wake me up way too early several hours later and I would lie there in agony waiting for Mom and Dad to rise – usually early for them around 6:30 AM.

My brother, Jim, and I were not allowed to place one foot out of the bed on Christmas morning until Mom and Dad “woke” us and OK’d our rising. Then teeth were brushed, beds were made and robes were donned with hearts a’pounding as Dad would be the first to go downstairs and put on the Christmas music and announce with great surprise that, in fact, it looked like Santa had been there a few hours before.

I was always in the bathroom first before Jim and then had to wait the interminable wait for him to brush.  I swear he took more time than usual just to drive me crazy.  Then I learned to play my little game with myself.

We had a two story cathedral-roofed living room with a small balcony on the second floor overlooking the living room big enough for maybe 3 people to stand.  If I were to stand there Christmas morning and look down upon our Christmas tree I would be able to see stacks of presents, perhaps a new bike with bow, perhaps a new addition to my drum set and definitely the whole shebang.

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If you missed the first part of this series, go to The Spirit of Christmas – Part 1

Blue Ribbon Christmas
I grew up in an upper-middle class family in Kirkwood, Missouri living in a beautiful stone house with a green tile roof a half a block from Greenbriar Hills Country Club.  Our back yard, beyond our lilac bushes, was the 11th fairway of the golf course where in the summer, we played baseball till it was so dark that the ball was lost the minute you hit it into the outfield.  In the fall the golf course became the perfect football field and in winter the snow on the golf course hills made the tobogganing wild and wooly.

Most of the homes in Greenbriar were situated on the golf course and the community was close, friendly and laid back.  I prided myself in knowing the family names of the people in every house in Greenbriar.

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If you missed the first part of this series,
go to The Spirit of Christmas – Part 1

O Christmas Tree, O Christmas Tree
Long ago and far away, even before the days of Watchfire Music, I was a child growing up on a little street in a little Mid-western town, born in the USA.  Like many of you, life was sweet and simple, filled with promise and, especially at this time of year, touched with the expectancies of Christmas.

Each year the build-up to that day of days was filled with many different elements: the buying of presents, the making of a list for Santa of childish dreams, the preparation of our house for the Holiday season, and, of course, the buying and decoration of the Christmas tree.

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Inspirational music for kids only
If you’re reading this you’re either under 14 years of age or still attached to the child inside.  Perhaps you’re just curious.  Perhaps you’re a voyeur – wanting to look back on that special innocence of childhood.  Perhaps you’re like me – a little weary of all the adult responsibilities in life and just wishing to be free of it all on this fall Saturday afternoon.

To go out and roll in the leaves.  Or play ball and sweat and not even think about it staining your shirt.

So you’re here for a little check-back.  Well, it’s OK to stay but just remember…

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