THE JOY OF THE
SEASON
By Nita
Wilson
______________________________________________________________________________________
It’s
early November and the stores are already pushing their Christmas stock. At first we get the little catch in our
throats, “Ahh, Christmas is coming.” The
same intake of breath at the first mention of Christmas each fall for as long as we can remember. Back when it was the most
important time of the year; when the joy of the season drew us in and kept us
enthralled and impatient until midway through Christmas afternoon when we could
finally say, “Wow, it’s over. Wasn’t it
wonderful?”
But
instead of remembering great times, we get upset with the stores… “It’s too
early, how can they make Christmas into such a money making business? They’re making a mockery of Christmas…” Maybe it’s only we the shoppers make mockery
with our disgust at having to spend money yet once again on Christmas
presents. Reality sets in and we start
to worry about over worked budgets and unpaid bills.
I
say remember the intake of breath and the “Ahh Christmas is coming” moment when
we first saw that plastic Santa inside the super sized snow globe.
My
own memories are so potent that even today I revel in them all through the
season. I start shopping and looking for
special gifts for my friends and family from the first feeling of fall. I am the storeowner’s joy and forever hope. I fall victim to new and different ornaments
and Christmas Decorations that I think the kids in my family would enjoy. I try to find a way to afford any decoration
that may make their future Christmas memories as wonderful as the ones I’m
reliving.
As
a child, my family had no money and Christmas must have hit my parents
especially hard; but the dolls chosen from the fall copy of the Sears catalogue
were always under the tree Christmas morning, along with the wrapped comic
books and coloring books. Small gifts
the four kids gave each other after a special day of Christmas shopping.
Around
December 22rd, mother and daddy cleaned us up and drove us to Kress’
store in Biloxi about 20 miles away and gave us each $1.00. folding money, bills, paper money, grown
folks money, where we were to buy 6 gifts. What utter joy, a whole dollar bill
and people to buy for, could you be any happier? I always bought mother’s first; a .25 bottle
of Blue Waltz or a nice lacy handkerchief, the finest Japan had to offer. Daddy could always use a nice ruler or shoe
polish, Oxblood, was a favorite color of mine.
My sister and brothers got the usual comic book, small toy, or some such
nonsense. Once our shopping was complete
and we purchased gifts for each other and mama and daddy; we marveled at my younger brother annually, having
enough money left to buy himself a gift.
Next stop was next door to Woolworth’s lunch counter for a coke with cries
of “Don’t look in my bag.” Or “Daddy,
Edward felt my bag of presents and says he knows what in it.” Then to Sears in Gulfport to see the big man
himself, Santa Clause. By the time we
got back to Daisy Vestry or Ocean Springs, we were exhausted but couldn’t wait
to wrap our wonderful gifts. Suddenly
the little house was turned upside down and covered with wonderful Christmas
paper, balls of ribbon unwound by the cat, and stray bits of scotch tape stuck
to the dog from little hands going too fast.
Mother always had music in the house so Bing Crosby and Gene Autry’s
Christmas Carols would be blaring from the phonograph and if we were lucky, she
wouldn’t be too tired to play the piano while we all sang the Christmas carols
later on that night. A perfect ending to
a perfect day; the six of us gathered around the piano with the Manger scene
lovingly displayed on top. All of our
freshly wrapped gifts arranged jauntily under the Christmas tree meant the big
day was truly close at hand.
Dark,
coming into the room from the cold outdoors would have to find its way around
the wonderful Nativity scene complete with star mother painted on the front
windows each year; a special joy for her and a sense of pride for us; since no
other house had anything like it.
The
joy of all of this to all of us was not buying the silly comic book we could
have bought with our own small allowance, but the choosing and buying of gifts
for each other. The wrapping and hiding,
the hints given and guesses made were all part of the joy. There was so much anticipation for these
small offerings that NO one was ever disappointed on Christmas morning. Even unwrapping the horrid socks and pajamas
sent from stray Uncles and Aunts could be tolerated.
A
few years ago, I started sharing the shopping memory with Matthew, Dacia,
Kristy and Hannah, my great nieces and nephew.
On the morning of Dec. 22nd we’d go to the Dollar Tree. They’d each get $5.00. (ahh inflation) and were
to buy a gift for each other and their parents.
I had no idea how time and the years haven’t changed the reactions of
children. The same joy of giving
laughingly reared its wonderful head.
They took more time deciding on each other’s gift than I had allotted,
so we were off by about an hour in our schedule. Too bad about the schedule. I wouldn’t have
missed this for the world. One by one
they began to find me and ask opinions on this toy or that picture frame, would
Dacia really like it, did Hannah already have one, was Matthew too old for this
or that, is pink or purple Kristy’s favorite color? I was incredulous at all the thought they
were putting into this exercise and once again I realized this whole season is
about giving, not receiving. After all,
wasn’t the greatest gift of all lying in the manger in the Nativity Scene on my
piano at home?
Once
we were all finished with our shopping, we had to take turns going through the
line. One person had to go through and
then directly to the car while three others spaced themselves around the store
with their basket contents hidden.
On
the way home we stopped at today’s equivalent of Woolworth’s, Shady Acres (a
country store outside of Hattiesburg we love to visit complete with wooden
stairs up to the old wooden porch) and bought bottled soft drinks out of the
old iced coke bin and ice cream from the ice cream counter. All the way home, the hints were flying,
guesses given and “I can’t wait” became a mantra to all.
Once
home, each child picked a room and enough paper, scotch tape and ribbon to wrap
their gifts. Then when each room was cluttered with bits of Christmas paper,
messed up scotch tape and balls of unraveled ribbon, the gifts were set under
the Christmas tree. The hardest part of
the whole day was keeping them away from the tree once the gifts were in place. You’d be surprised to learn, kids really do
ask what this package can be, when it’s so obviously a comic book rolled into a
tube, even the dog knew.
The
rest of the evening was spent watching the Christmas Story, opening the gifts,
playing with the gifts, laughing over the gifts, and getting great joy over the
reactions of the receivers as each gift was opened. One movie was enjoyed after dinner, then
baths, then coke floats and then to bed.
It was such a wonderful experience for all that we are now going on our
fourth year this Christmas. Matthew is
going on 15, my heart hurts at the thought that he may be getting too old. But at least I will have the memories of the
first three years.
For
as long as I can remember I try to give my friends and close family gifts for
Christmas. I make sure each of my
Grandnieces and nephews has a gift from me.
It is a selfish pleasure for me.
When I’m buying the gift, I’m so into that child, sibling or friend for
that moment in time and so hoping it will please that I can’t think of anything
else. Again, the joy of giving is the
pleasure; seeing that precious face light up in my mind as I decide on the
gift; is a gift itself.
More
and more too many people are deciding not to give each other gifts. They’re too
hard pressed financially, or they don’t like the thought that Christmas has
become about how much loot a person receives, or they don’t like to fight the
crowds anymore. Some people haven’t
given to their siblings/spouse/friends in years, maybe never. What a shame, what a shame.
Once
a year to spend time concentrated only on your beloved sibling/friend/spouse
for a few moments in a store of your choice, thinking about what that person
would like, what would make their day, what would make them smile, what would
bring them closer to you for at least one day, could actually make you glad you
spent the money and fought the crowds. I
know some of us say, well, I’ll buy for the kids. Well, whoop de do, the kids get so much from
all of us these days they don’t even have time to play with it all. Maybe that money spent on your sister,
brother, parent, spouse would make a nicer moment in your relationships,
especially if there has been ill will lately.
In the long run, wouldn’t it be better if the kids were taught to buy
each other a gift? Shouldn’t they get
some of the selfish joy of giving?
We’ve
gotten as hard on Christmas as the storeowners who push the merchandise on
us. I say, instead of looking at them
like they’re the wolves, let’s look at them as they are giving us inexpensive
selections to make for our loved ones.
God will deal with whether they are wrong or right let’s just say they’re
kind and helpful. Your child will see
Christmas as you do. If you see it as a
time to save money and not give, then they’ll do the same one day. But, if you were with me for just one hour
when the kids are shopping for each other, you’d never wish them anything but
that kind of happiness in giving to others.
And they are only spending $1.00 on each person.
Yes,
I know, I shouldn’t be telling any of you to buy Christmas gifts. I have a few friends and family members who
truly do not like to give or receive gifts.
I have to understand their feelings even though it takes away some of my
joy of giving, but some people are too shy to receive and some are too nervous
to give, so rather than make their Christmas unhappy, I’ll respect their
wishes.
“Aahh
Christmas is coming.” Get the same catch
in your throat as you did years ago when you were small children, when it was
the most important time of the year, when churches smelled like pine trees and
cedar branches, and the man who owned the hardware store walked to the up the
isle to the church Nativity Scene looking like no Wiseman you ever saw in his
wool bathrobe and wife’s sequined turban.
Think of the school house lighted up for the Christmas program rehearsed
for days with tin foil haloed angels singing to a 6th grade giggling
Santa. Think of your family and reading
the Christmas story from the Bible on Christmas Eve. Think of rainy winter
nights and the lights from the tree distorting the rain drops on the windows
for anyone passing to see; when hope was so large in your chest you could
hardly breath; when the joy of the season drew you in and kept you enthralled
and impatient until midway through Christmas afternoon when you could finally
say, “Wow, it’s over, wasn’t it wonderful?”
Next year, I’m going to …
