Felix Nativitas

Merry Christmas - But it isn't only about the gifts.

When we think about Christmas, we usually think about presents, Christmas trees, Christmas music, holiday lights, cookies, family, and our various traditions. Traditions are a major part of the holiday season for my family. My Oma came from Germany, so we celebrate Saint Nicholas on December 6th by putting our shoes by the front door for him to fill. Other traditions include the advent candles and our singing. But the most beautiful and tender tradition we have is held on Christmas Eve, the holiest night of the year.

When I describe Christmas Eve to my friends, I always tell them how we dress up for the occasion, about the feast that my Oma always prepares, the carols that we all sing around Oma's piano, Opa's spiritual challenges, the gospel reading, and our loving gift exchange. That is the basic formula for each Christmas Eve, although each year seems to be a little bit different - and a little bit more tender.

The Christmas of 2010 is one that I hope will be forever engrained in my heart and soul.

During the months preceding Christmas, I found myself at school with a hip injury that would send me home early, with the semester uncompleted, and give me ample time to reflect upon my life. Considering the upcoming holiday, I spent a lot of energy looking back on past Christmas's, and anticipating the next few weeks. I worried a lot about how the holiday would be celebrated because I was afraid that my Oma would not be able to have Christmas at her home, and that families would not get along with each other.

I was almost sick with dread because of Christmas, so I decided to do something about it "with an eye for any fate." I put my energies into my gift giving; I spent many wonderful hours knitting for my mother, painting for my aunt, and thinking about each person in the family and why I loved them so much. I also fasted and prayed earnestly that we would be able to make it work.

By the time Christmas Eve came around, I saw that our family has never been more beautiful. Because I had slept over at my Oma and Opa's house the night before, and helped out wherever I could, I was able to see everyone as they came in. I have never seen my Opa so handsome in my life! I don't believe a man could look better in a tuxedo than he did. The evening seemed to be especially blessed because Opa invoked heaven's blessing on us all, before we sat down to eat the feast that Oma carefully and lovingly prepared for us. I cannot express to you how beautiful it was to listen as siblings, cousins, aunts, uncles, parents, and grandparents talked and laughed together!

I have never enjoyed caroling as much as I did that night, when everyone, with the possible exception of Hans, sang together. I honestly believe that music holds a definite power to invite the spirit and unite families in ways that are otherwise impossible. That Christmas we did something a little different - we divided parts to the Twelve Days of Christmas, and were very goofy while we sang. My heart was full to the bursting point watching Aunt Katherine's "eight maids a-milking, with hand gestures to indicate milking; Ryan's "four calling birds," as he stood on one leg and flapped his arms; and dear little Reed, standing in front of the fireplace, happily singing about the "partridge in a pear tree." We had so much fun together, but it wasn't just a goofy time for us. When we settled down to reverently sing Silent Night, I couldn't help being touched when listening to Oma sing in German, and watching the tears fill Lara's eyes as we looked on at the scene.

After we had all sat around the Christmas tree, Opa asked us wbout his challenge from the preceding year. Much to our shame, no one could answer him. For me, I couldn't answer because I didn't have the courage to reveal everything that I was feeling. I still don't know if I know how to articulate it, but at least I can try.

My answer to his query came as the following scene was etched into my heart. If ever Norman Rockwell had a scene to paint, this would have been it: Opa, in a tuxedo without the jacket, sitting on his armchair by the grand window, Christmas lights brightly twinkling from the outside, an old-fashioned lamp brightly shining to provide Opa with light as he read a depiction of Christ's birth, beautifully wrapped presents on the floor surrounding the tree, and little Spencer, with his bright red hair, lying on the floor at Opa's feet. I couldn't keep a few tears from falling as I looked at the scene, when I reflected about how Christmas is a time of gifts, without being about the gifts.

Opa wanted to know if we had tried to cultivate the spirit in our lives and our testimonies of Christ through the year. And while I couldn't speak, that was the culminating point of my realization that along with my family, I have. Christmas is the one blessed time of the year when we may sit with our families and report on what we are giving to that Child. "What shall we give to the babe in the manger?" That Christmas, my gift was a gift of love and gratitude. Although God took my father home from our family circle, He has helped sooth the tears and has brought additional people into our hearts and home.

"God bless this home - And all those who live and visit there." That blessing, written on the wall above our heads, surely came to pass that Christmas as I, with my family, enjoyed a sacred evening of love, testimony, and gift-giving: "these are the gifts for the king of us all."

Felix Nativitas - Merry Christmas!