Rachel and I spent the better part of today buying Christmas presents for our girls. We try to get them nice presents, but we don't go overboard. We decided before our first child's Christmas that we would do three presents, per child, per year. This is our little way of teaching the story of the wisemen, and keeping Christ front and center.
Christmas is a child's holiday. When you're little, it's a magical time. For my brother and me, it meant going to Gpa and Gma Hall's farm in Plato. Of course, we only lived a couple miles from the farm (and spent a lot of our time there anyway) but it was still fun to go and see all of our cousins, some from the "big city." (Springfield)
At the farm, we'd have a big traditional meal, read the Christmas story from the book of Luke, and then have a gift exchange. Each family member drew a name from a hat except for Gpa and Gma. (They got a gift from everyone.) As a kid, I looked forward to seeing my family members interact... playing cards, telling stories, having a good time. It gave a kid a sense of security, a sense of belonging to something bigger than himself.
If the weather was nice enough, we might shoot some baskets in the barnlot, or take a trek around the farm hunting rabbits. The weather wasn't always nice though... One memorable year, Durbin Creek (between the farm and town) got so high from heavy rains that Uncle Kenny had to take us across it in a big feed truck.
I've always been a sentimental person. (In fact, you may be feeling queasy by now.) Rachel has to occasionally remind me that I have a tendency to romanticize the past. So, maybe Christmas on the farm wasn't everything I remember it to be. All I know is this... A part of me misses it.
Gpa and Gma have been in Heaven for awhile now. (Their graves are in a little cemetery bordering the farm.) The family sold the farm several years back, and in fact, it is for sale again. (The picture above is from a real estate website. If I was rich, I would buy it!) All of my generation has families of our own, with new traditions. And that's not all bad.
If your extended family still gets together in a meaningful way, you are one of the few... Count yourself blessed. And if you celebrate Christmas in an old, Ozarks farmhouse, well... Your cup runneth over!
Merry Christmas everyone!