Christmas!
Christmas has come and gone. It has been a time of great reflection as Jason and I have discussed traditions we want to begin when we have children. Growing up, I never had many gifts. My siblings and I would buy each other small gifts--Gregg always gave everyone lifesavor books. The Santa gift was always unwrapped so that we could distinguish his gift from the rest. And we took turns opening gifts so that we could see what everyone received. Although, my parent's ulterior motive was to make it appear as if we had a lot of presents to open because it took a couple of hours to open all the gifts.
Yet, my most vivid Christmas memories of childhood are spiritual in nature. My mother would hang our stockings on December 1st. She would have them filled with 24 pieces of paper. Each day we would draw a piece of paper out of our stockings. Some papers asked us to perform little acts of service for each other, like "make your sister's bed today" or "read a story to your little brother." Other pieces of paper asked us to write in our journal or read selections from the scriptures. And there was always one that said, "Go to mom and dad a get a treat." It was one way my mother taught us the real meaning of Christmas.
And then there was Christmas Eve. It has always been a very spiritual time in my family. We acted out the nativity to a recording of my father reading from the scriptures, with the Tabernacle Choir singing Silent Night in the background. We would sing Christmas hymns and talk about Jesus. Today we no longer act out the nativity. Instead we listen to that old recording of my father's. I figure it is almost 30 years old. It's funny how as a child the focus is on receiving gifts, yet as an adult my greatest memories of Christmas growing up were about giving and about the Savior. I credit the power of those memories to my parents and the effort they took amid all the materialistic chaos of the season.
Yet, my most vivid Christmas memories of childhood are spiritual in nature. My mother would hang our stockings on December 1st. She would have them filled with 24 pieces of paper. Each day we would draw a piece of paper out of our stockings. Some papers asked us to perform little acts of service for each other, like "make your sister's bed today" or "read a story to your little brother." Other pieces of paper asked us to write in our journal or read selections from the scriptures. And there was always one that said, "Go to mom and dad a get a treat." It was one way my mother taught us the real meaning of Christmas.
And then there was Christmas Eve. It has always been a very spiritual time in my family. We acted out the nativity to a recording of my father reading from the scriptures, with the Tabernacle Choir singing Silent Night in the background. We would sing Christmas hymns and talk about Jesus. Today we no longer act out the nativity. Instead we listen to that old recording of my father's. I figure it is almost 30 years old. It's funny how as a child the focus is on receiving gifts, yet as an adult my greatest memories of Christmas growing up were about giving and about the Savior. I credit the power of those memories to my parents and the effort they took amid all the materialistic chaos of the season.
posted by Kristin @ 9:27 AM
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