Christmas memories

Do you remember the week of Christmas movies NBC would show sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas? For me those were way more exciting than Frosty or Rudolph. The Sound of Music, Home Alone, Beethoven, and Dennis the Menace were my favorites. I loved when my dad would laugh out loud at the funny parts and I’d have to explain what was going on to my younger brothers. Then one year I got to watch Jurassic Park for the first time and forever think of it as a holiday movie now. (Roy says it’s my Diehard.) Best scary movie EVER…with absolutely nothing to do with Christmas.

One time in my 31 years of Christmases my brothers and I convinced my parents that we needed to stay home from all Christmas Eve service obligations. My mom didn’t take much arm pulling, but my dad, being the responsible patriarch and lay leader, required some pretty intense negotiations. Oh, how I remember that Christmas Eve. We enjoyed a simple meal together, my brothers and I read and acted out the Christmas story with our nativity set for our parents, and the house was lit only by twinkly window candles and the tree. I remember heading upstairs for bed and hearing Jessie Norman singing carols on PBS as my mom prepared to finish wrapping stocking stuffers. I felt all was right with the world.

I wish for another Christmas Eve like that every year.

The best Christmas morning surprise I ever received was when I was 8. We’ve been Aldi shoppers for a really long time, and you know how Aldi has the Aisle of Surprises? I love going down that aisle still, because you never know what kind of toys or kitchen stuff or home decor they’ll have on sale. When I was 8 we walked down the Mystery Aisle and they had a whole bunch of toys on display. Among these toys was a collection of dolls. They were about the size of American Girl dolls, but only $6 each. I felt, secretly, that I was probably too old for dolls, but there was one that had beautiful auburn hair named Tracy and I instantly loved her. I told my mom this and she responded, as I expected, “Well, save your money and you can buy her yourself.”

I didn’t have too many opportunities to save $6 as an 8 year old, but I did scrounge and when we went back a few weeks later they were completely out of Tracy dolls. There was a blonde doll, but I didn’t want her. I cried silent tears through the entire store, ashamed for crying and being so disappointed over a doll, but heartbroken nonetheless. I later reset my sights on a Cabbage Patch doll, but knew that nothing would replace Tracy’s perfect face and dark hair. She had loved me too, I could tell.

Fast forward to Christmas morning. This is probably a month or two later, which as you know is a small eternity for an 8 year old. Christmas was on a Sunday that year and we were up early to open gifts before heading to church (my dad being the patriarch and responsible lay leader that he was). There were a lot of wonderful gifts for all and the mood was joyous and festive. Just as we approached the conclusion my mom handed me one hidden, final box. I don’t know what I was expecting—maybe a Cabbage Patch doll, maybe something else entirely. (My parents often purchased us gifts that we didn’t ask for but ended up being the things we loved most.) I carefully unwrapped the paper and saw the most beautiful face looking up at me. I screamed and burst into tears. (A very dramatic reaction for me, if I do say so myself.) I loved that doll and carefully brought her with me to church, left her buckled in the car, and brought out my bestest church friend to peek through the window to see her, secretly still a little ashamed at loving a doll so much.

Tracy still resides in my bedroom closet in my parents’ house. If I ever have a little girl maybe I’ll fluff Tracy up and tell my daughter the story that still makes me cry a little on the inside.

What are your favorite Christmas memories?