"Here I Am" Part 7

I have the best memories of Christmas as a child. Moma and Daddy always made it seem so magical. They would put up the tree after Thanksgiving with Christmas music playing in the back ground.  My sister Jodi and I would have hot chocolate and cookies while we helped hang the ornaments. Several gifts would appear a few days later.

I loved just having the Christmas tree lights on. They would blink and reflect off the packages. The anticipation would build up as each day seemed to slowly pass. I remember my brothers’ reactions to our excitement.

Greg, the oldest (12 years older than me) would always ask what we wanted from Santa Claus. He loved seeing us so excited and would let us chatter on. I can remember Mark (10 years older than me) crawling under the tree with me to inspect the packages.

Mark would ask me which one I wanted to try and guess what was inside. I would point to one and he would pick it up and gently shake it. “What do you think is inside this one?” I could never guess, but it didn’t matter. I loved playing this game with my brother.

Moma always made Christmas cookies with us. Always. I can remember the laughs and giggles and wonderful smells of that little kitchen. I remember I couldn’t wait for the cookies to come out of the oven so I would try to sneak dough while Moma wasn’t looking. And all those fabulous sprinkles in different colors to put on the cookies! Christmas needed to hurry up and get here if there was any hope of some cookies being left for Santa.

On Christmas Eve we would get all dressed up and head to candle light service at church. Daddy would have the radio on in the car and the radio station never failed to have the latest updates from the Santa Claus radar. They would give some part of town as the “last sighting” with Jodi and I eagerly asking, “Is that anywhere near us? Is he close to us?”

The answer was always the same. “It’s going to be a little while yet.” I suspect they had to say that. Had they said he was very close they would have had 2 little girls begging to stay home in order to catch a glimpse of Santa Claus. Oh and the reindeer! Especially Rudolph! What child didn’t want to be witness to all that?

I remember one Christmas in particular. My sister and I were quite young. We were walking out to the car to go to the candle light service when Daddy suddenly said, “Oh I forgot something. I’ll be right back.” Being a daddy’s girl I of course wanted to go back in with him. Moma quickly said, “No sweetheart. Daddy will be right back. Come get in the car.” I complied (surprisingly) and a few minutes later Daddy was back out and we were on our way.

When we came home after the service and walked into the house magic was everywhere! More gifts! I cannot tell you what all the gifts were but two still stand out vividly in my mind after all these years. Twin baby dolls each in their own carriers; one for me and one for my sister. I remember thinking, “how could Santa possibly know I would just love this baby doll?” Magic.

I knew it had to be magic because we did not have a chimney. That little fact used to be a little troubling to me at that age. But I had proof positive that Santa was real and he was magic! Gifts appeared and Santa’s cookies were gone.

After I was finally able to put my new baby down, I began to open my other gifts. I loved the sound of the wrapping being torn off the gifts to see what else the magic held for me. It was one of many perfect Christmas celebrations we had in our house growing up.

I’m sure by now you are wondering what this has to do with my Walk to Emmaus. It’s simple really. I grew up to realize that loving parents were behind the magical Santa. I was every bit excited for the walk to begin just as I was excited for Santa to come. Only now, miracles had replaced magic and I absolutely knew I would have wonderful gifts to open at Emmaus. I couldn’t wait to tear off that wrapping.