This time of year, one can’t help but wish to be a kid again. The wonder and anticipation of Christmas is all too real for children. They clammer about the tree, snooping in presents, shaking stockings...
Oh, wait that was me. I was the nosy one, expertly peeling back Scotch tape from gift wrapping and sliding the paper off the packages to get a peak inside. I was so good at it, I could replace the wrapping back on the present without any rips or tears. I could even line the creases back up to the sides of the box and match the tape to its orginal position. If the tape lost its stickiness, I scrounged up another piece and placed it directly over the old one - viola! Re-wrapped present! What a devious child was I. The trouble was, in all of that peaking, I don’t remember finding a single one of my own presents. For some reason, I always ended up opening one of the my brother’s. Perhaps Mom didn’t label gifts back then?
It was good to be a kid at Christmas-time. If the anticipation of gifts didn’t kill you, having to pose for family Christmas photos might. No one ever smiled at the same time and by the time 15 pictures had been taken, no one had smiles left.
The holiday excitement was usually dampened by having to trudge through preparations for the annual Sunday school program. Practice, practice, practice singing carols, filing out of church pews, fighting for position in front of the microphone (oh, that was me too). I remember being forced to wear a new dress for the Christmas program (oh, how I hated dresses!) and mortifying my mother by somehow managing to put a gigantic run in the front of white tights right before it was my grade’s turn to sing. There I was, curled hair sticking out every which way, navy blue dress making me very uncomfortable, a two-inch streak running up my left leg and I wasn’t giving up an inch to the right or left of the prime property in front of the mike. I was going to SING! If I remember correctly, there were at least three girls in my class that had the same intentions come program time. Sometimes it’s cute when kids belt out into the microphone, but playing tackle-the-mike stand isn’t so much.
Ah, yes. I could probably go on and on with all my memories of Christmas time, but I wouldn’t want you to think poorly of me. I really did enjoy most parts of the holidays. (Did I mention the toys?) To this day, I can’t get the Toys R Us jingle out of my head: ”I don’t want to grow up...”
I wish I could can some of a child’s enthusiasm over snow, Christmas, putting up a tree, etc., and drink it down like a Coke. Maybe then I’d be a little less “adult” about toys and gifts and shopping and baking and family get-togethers.
That’s why I have to chuckle at my boys when they believe all their problems will be solved when they get bigger.
Boy #3 got upset with me last night when I wouldn’t let him have a snack before bedtime. I sent him to bed for the third time and pulled out the last two pieces of chocolate cake for me and hubby. Like most children (okay, okay, like me) he somehow sensed there was a snack out, ready to be devoured. He was out of bed within 15 seconds, down the stairs, and peeking over the railing. “Why do you get cake?” he demanded.
When our usual platitudes about being Mom and Dad didn’t please him, he huffed back up the stairs, muttering, “When I’m a dadult, I’m having cake!”
Boy #2 has been wondering what he should be when he grows up. I told him he’ll figure it out soon enough (he’s five) and not to worry, but that advice fell on deaf ears.
“I just don’t know what I should be. I think maybe a police man, and I’d really like to be a rock star.” I had visions of the Village People in my head so I’m really praying for Divine Discernment for that child.
It’s just incredibly interesting to me how we, as humans, and no matter how young or old we are, tend to think our problems will be solved by growing up, getting rich, getting smarter or even doing X, Y and Z.
We can’t comprehend sometimes that when we get bigger, we let our problems get bigger as well. We have pie and we want cake. We have a perfectly nice dress and we want to wear pants. We want to be big, bigger than God. So much so, that we often forget that He is the ultimate problem-solver, answer-giver, present-gifter and love-offerer.
This Christmas, perhaps we could recapture some of the excitement of children by simply doing two things: giving and receiving.
Give glory. Give worship. Give praise.
Receive love. Receive love. Receive love. And, who knows, maybe even a new dress.
