Holidays, Past and Present

I have to confess: the holidays are much less hectic (and stressful) with adult children. There’s no pressure to make things magical, or to get your hands on the one gift that will make or break Christmas morning. In fact, my kids are having a hard time coming up with gift ideas at all. They have what they need, and neither of them wants much of anything in particular.

I consider that its own kind of holiday evolution, and it’s change I’m proud of. Small children are selfish by nature–it’s a basic survival skill that has to be shaped into something more civilized and generous. The fact that my son has his Christmas shopping done tells me that he’s spent more time thinking about what will make others happy than coming up with a list of his own desires. He’s always had a generous heart. I’m glad he carried it into his adulthood.

Over the years, our holiday celebrations have changed in various ways. We didn’t start attending church until my kids were 4 and 6 years old, for instance, so worship services initially weren’t a part of Thanksgiving or Christmas. After we moved to Texas, Mike and I decided that joining a church might help us connect more fully with our new community. Our kids grew up in the warm embrace of a church family, which was particularly welcome during the holidays, since we don’t live near our extended family. We participated in Thanksgiving food drives and humanitarian outreach projects. Both kids served as acolytes during Christmas Eve services for many years. Though our relationship with that church family has changed, I’m still happy that my kids had a generally positive experience of their faith throughout their childhood.

Another change in our holiday traditions is the opening of one present on Christmas Eve. That’s a tradition I borrowed from my own parents. I’m fairly certain this started as a way to placate my siblings and me, but for my own family it became a way to position present-opening after church-going. The kids never thought to ask about opening a gift until after we’d returned from church. That in itself said something about the priorities we were teaching them to adopt. Even though we’ve stopped attending formal church services, our Christmas Eve presents seem less important than they might have been otherwise. In fact, last year the kids decided to forego that tradition and save all their presents for Christmas Day, which tells me that presents aren’t the point of our holiday together.

So what are the important things–those elements of our family celebration that likely won’t be changed?

For one thing, we don’t travel at Christmas. Mike and I made this rule when our daughter was born, so family members would know that we weren’t snubbing anyone and didn’t plan to haggle over whose “turn” it was to receive a Christmas visit. From the start, we made it clear that we were happy to welcome any relatives who wanted to visit for the holidays, but we thought our kids deserved to be in their own beds on Christmas Eve and in their own home on Christmas day. This policy allowed us to skip out on the hassles of holiday travel and avoid the bad weather that almost always interferes with moving from place to place in December. It also helped to keep the peace among our many relatives in different parts of the country.

Another thing that doesn’t change: Bob. That’s the name we gave our artificial Christmas tree some years ago, and even though he’s definitely seen better days, my children won’t hear of him being discarded. He has droopy limbs and shaggy branches, but he’s our tree. And, if he’s still standing, I expect one of the kids will adopt Bob when he or she has a home big enough for a family-sized Christmas tree.

Lastly, having our traditional Orange Meal on Christmas Eve, and decorating our holiday table with a silver bowl of oranges, is another piece of holiday celebration that won’t go away. That’s because the Orange Meal reminds us of where we’ve come from: generations of people who picked oranges for a living, or who could only dream of eating fresh fruit in the middle of the winter. Those were the people who worked hard to build  the lives we’re leading now–lives that they themselves could not have imagined. Our bowl of oranges reminds us to be thankful for all we have and to remember that what we’re doing now builds a foundation for the future generations of our family, all those people we’ll be celebrating with in the years to come.

Holiday traditions are best when they tell us something about ourselves–or, at least, who we aspire to be. If we hold onto nothing else, I hope that bowl of oranges will follow my family forward and always take its rightful place on the holiday table.