My happiest Christmas memory is the time each
year that my aunt Nancy directed my cousins and me in a reenactment of the
nativity. The youngest among us--a girl--was always baby Jesus, and as Mary, my
main job was not dropping her when I placed her in the manger. That and
avoiding wayward staffs twirled by the ragtag band of shepherds played by my
boy cousins.
When I reflect on those memories, the principal
player was my aunt Nancy. The yearly play was her idea, so of course we looked
to her for to take the lead and to direct us as to when to proceed solemnly
into the living room for our performance. But more than that, we followed her
lead because she cared. She was
enthusiastic about the story we were reenacting, so we naturally were too.
My happiest memories as a child, and the ones
imprinted most indelibly on my heart, typically involve a happy or enthusiastic
adult--a teacher who taught my class to dance the Virginia Reel during our
Civil War unit, a softball coach who infused fun into every practice, and a
band director who loved his job.
But the happiest of happy moments always involved
my parents. When my dad laughed or my mom got excited about something, time
stood still and my heart threatened to burst. I delighted to see them
delighted; their enthusiasm and joy instantly and naturally transferred to me
because I loved to see them happy.
Kids learn to love what makes their parents light
up. I see it in my own kids now. My oldest son brings me the Sunday comics,
points out a good strip, and waits expectantly to hear me laugh. All of my sons
are adamantly loyal to my college team only because they know that I am. And
when I ask them what they’re thankful for, they’ve learned to add a spiritual
element, because they know Who it is that I love.
So what does this speak to me and to all parents during this Advent season?
Sometimes Christmas can feel like pressure to a
young mom who wants her children to be well-versed in all things Jesus. There
are countless (wonderful) Pinterest pins, blog posts, activities, and books
about how to make the most of the season and communicate the meaning of
Christmas to our children. This year I have felt this pressure acutely, for I can count down on one hand the years my oldest remains in our home. I want to
make Christmas special and say all the right things that will imprint its
meaning on each of their hearts.
I imagine, however, that what they’ll remember
about this Christmas and all the Christmases of their childhood combined will
not be coloring sheets or books or a lit candle on the Advent wreath, although
these will certainly hover with warm connotations in the background of their
minds. No, if they are like me, I imagine that what will have the most impact
are the happy and enthusiastic adults in their lives, namely my husband and me,
who have the story of Jesus joyfully tumbling around in their hearts throughout
the year and the Christmas season.
Am I happy in the story of Jesus? Am I
contemplating what His coming has wrought? Am I looking expectantly for His
return? Am I enthusiastically speaking of it as I sit with my children in our
house, and when we walk by the way, when we lie down, and when we rise up?
This is what our children will remember about
Christmas, long after the presents are opened and the Advent calendar is put
away. They will not remember the details of their December experiences, but
they will remember what delighted us. And because it delights us, it will
delight them too.
