Christmas has always been labeled the most wonderful time of
the year because it seems to bring out the best in everyone. December is when everything is glimmering
with Christmas lights and joy gleams through brighter eyes and wider smiles. It’s the time of year when endless calories
are consumed while filling the house with the sweet, warm aroma of homemade
cookies being baked for Santa Claus. Christmas
is a time for cuddling by the crackling fire with hot cocoa while watching the
wind scatter snowflakes like confetti over the pure white wonderland that seems
to somehow reflect the pure joy and serenity of the advent season. It’s about family traditions such as bundling
up in countless layers to pick a Christmas tree that will be decorated with
ornaments that boast cherished memories and topped with an angel or star to
bless us as we remember the true meaning of Christmas.
All my life
Christmas never disappoints with its joyful memories and comfort that makes
everything feel warm and fuzzy inside. It’s
like a hug for your heart and soul. When
I was little, Christmas was always my favorite time of the year because of all
the fun! I felt like I was on a
rollercoaster during the exhilarating sled rides of December, back when I
thought the hill behind my house was an expert-level ski slope. I can still feel the cookie crumbs on my
hands as I stuffed my face with mommy’s cookies, but I always remembered to
leave plenty for Santa Claus. I’ll never
forget the excited butterflies in my stomach on Christmas Eve, when my brother
and I would track Santa Claus’s whereabouts online and anticipate when he would
come to our house. I remember dressing
up for Christmas mass, walking in and seeing how crowded the church was from
all the people who I’d never seen at any of the other Sunday masses. It reminded me of how Christmas was a special
time for reasons bigger than a fat, old St. Nicholas. I still feel my soft bed with blankets
wrapped tight around me as I listened, with my teddy bear clutched close to my
beating heart, to my mom read “Twas the Night Before Christmas”, just like she
did every Christmas Eve before bed when I was a kid.
Now that
I’m older and have a busy schedule, I feel like it is much harder to get in the
Christmas spirit. December isn’t as fun
as it used to be with the long lines and obnoxious crowds at stores, the
annoying advertisements of businesses that just want your money, the never
escaping traffic, not to mention the struggles of trying to think of and buy
the perfect Christmas gifts for all my friends and family. At sixteen I’ve long since stopped believing
in Santa Claus, but even though I know he isn’t real, I often miss the magic
and innocence in believing in fantasies like flying reindeer. Now I’m old enough to read “T’was the Night
Before Christmas” to myself, as my mom does Santa’s job downstairs. Although since I am older, I understand the
true meaning of Christmas, which is a miracle that beats any old Frosty the
Snowman or red-nosed reindeer named Rudolph.
I treasure the bright eyes and impressed smiles, when people unwrap the
gifts I picked for them. Through the
crazy schedule of the holidays, I always find time to help my mom decorate the
Christmas tree and I still help bake cookies for a Santa I know doesn’t
exist. Perhaps the busy schedule makes
the holidays better because it helps me appreciate the infinite blessings of
Christmas. Now I value the peaceful
simplicity of staying in with the family and just watching the snow fall to the
ground in silence. Now I understand how
giving is equally, if not more, fun as receiving. Now I understand the true miracle of Jesus’s
birthday, and can celebrate and rejoice because I may be older, but I
understand the magic behind Christmas and for this my eyes shine as bright as the
North Star shining through a stable in Bethlehem on that first Christmas night.
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