Home for Christmas

Home for Christmas has whole new meaning now that I live in Tennessee. I was born and raised in Michigan, and my parents still live in my childhood home with my brother and sister. This is my first Christmas being married and living away from home, and as my husband loads up the van to travel, the anticipation within me nearly overflows. We are going home for Christmas.

A Childhood Memory of Christmas

It’s Christmas Eve 2007 and Dad is gathering his various snacks together. Mom wrinkles her nose at the smell of his pickled baloney and retrieves another blanket from her room. My five-year-old brother, Christopher, throws a handful of white cheddar Cheez-Its into his chocolate malt and sits down at his spot at the kitchen table. My eleven-year-old sister, Kaelyn, leads the way as we hurry down to our room to pick out which pajamas we want to wear and select a pair of Christmas socks from our growing collection. The Christmas tree is lit. The fireplace is crackling. I am nine years old.

The Christmas lights from atop the doorway and an apple cinnamon candle burning add a touch of warmth to the room. Kaelyn grabs our VHS copy of It’s a Wonderful Life. I gather some of my stuffed animals and my special blanket, and then I snuggle into my favorite love seat that we always called “the little couch.” Mom can barely be seen for the pile of blankets she has upon and around her. Kaelyn puts in our favorite Christmas movie of all time and pushes play. In 1986, the classic film was colorized, but never once have we seen it in color.

The Liberty Bell announces the opening scene. The jingling sleigh bells ring and “Buffalo Gals” pull us into the ambiance of the 1940s era. The stage is set. A shiver of anticipation rises. Snow starts falling steadily in Bedford Falls as prayers for George Bailey from people all over town are heard. Although we can quote the movie by now, newfound excitement builds with each unfolding scene. Every Christmas Eve, we gather our snacks, snuggle in with our comfy blankets in our Christmas pajamas and re-watch the classic film.

As night falls, we’re hurried off to bed. Kaelyn sleeps in the room we shared when Christopher was a baby and Christopher sleeps over in my room next door—just for tonight. I don’t know how long it takes Kaelyn to fall asleep, but Christopher and I are too wound up, so we read the Christmas Story together from the book of Matthew before eventually drifting off to sleep. Excitement wakes us early and while we wait for our sister to wake, we read the account from Luke. When the lights come on in the living room and Mom and Dad are up, we wake Kaelyn, who never has been a morning person, and venture down.

Dad has the camera rolling as we enter.

‘Santa’ had been there. The stockings are full. Some of the gifts are sitting unwrapped beneath the tree. There are several wrapped packages as well. Mom always picks out the prettiest paper. Sitting on the top shelf next to the fireplace is season two of the Waltons, my favorite show—a gift for the entire family. Matching purple bicycles for my sister and me stand behind ‘the little couch’.

Dad hides the pickle ornament--a tradition he started when we were small--and we search for it to see who gets to open the first gift. After opening all the gifts, we open our stockings. We kids had already snuck things into Mom and Dad’s stockings. Still in our Christmas pajamas, we have flakes and milk and toast for breakfast and then slowly throw away the card board, paper trash, and twisty ties that lay scattered on the living room floor.  Picking out a few favorite things to show Grandma later, we take the rest of our gifts to our rooms to be put away.

There is just enough time to go outside and play before heading across the street for Christmas dinner.  Dad makes time to play with us—a chance rarely afforded to us because of his busy work schedule. He pulls us in our sleds. Then we race down the hill to see who can get the furthest. He always has the best ideas.  

When the time comes to continue the Christmas festivities with her side of the family, mom calls us in. After changing clothes, we help her load up the car. Everything that mom has made smells so good, but my favorite thing of all is her peach pie made from the peaches we preserved together from the orchard down the road at summers’ end. The flavor gives me the same warm feeling as one of mom’s hugs. My mouth starts to water as I carry it out to the van.

Christmas dinner at Granddad and Grandma’s house is always special. We have so many good things to eat, much of which comes right from Granddad’s big garden. It’s not so much the food that makes it special, but the people we share it with. Granddad laughs and shares a story from his childhood in North Carolina—his southern drawl still evident though he’s lived in Michigan since 1957. Uncle Tim hovers over mom’s peach pie and licks his lips—his eyebrows rising up and down. When I show Grandma Hall my special things, she smiles and pays attention to each one. After dinner, we gather in the living room to open gifts with Granddad and Grandma, Aunt Becky, Uncle Tim, and our cousin’s, Josh and Caleb.

All decked out in one of her Christmas Snoopy sweatshirts, Aunt Becky laughs at one of Caleb’s sarcastic jokes. Kaelyn and I hand out the gifts. Josh, the oldest grandchild, rolls his eyes as Christopher attempts to tickle him again. I hand Grandpa a special package; a homemade bright yellow fuzzy hat. He puts it on his bald head and ties it in a bow beneath his chin. We all laugh at how funny he looks.

Later that night, we head back home across the street and snuggle in to watch our two favorite Christmas episodes of Little House on the Prairie. Later as I close my eyes and fall asleep, I thank God for the best present of all, the gift of Jesus, and I fall asleep thinking of the very first Christmas.

How long ago that seems. Today, things are very different—although some things remain the same. Grandma is in Heaven now and Caleb doesn’t always make it home from New York. Josh married Felisha and they have two children, Gabe and Blake, who are already nine and eight years old. I’m married to Daniel and we live in Tennessee. Kaelyn and Christopher still live at home with Mom and Dad. Granddad still hosts Christmas and sometimes mom still bakes peach pie.

I miss the way things were—mostly because I miss Grandma being there. I miss her laugh and the way she would get all worked up when things got chaotic. I wish Daniel could have known those days, but I’m glad he’s with me now and we’re going home for Christmas.