My Christmas was filled with small joys and family traditions.
Our youngest son came home to sleep on Christmas Eve. Our eldest son, who isn’t a big talker, yakked away to him for ages in the jargon of computer gamers and young tech heads, a language their Dad and I are not fluent in! It was a simple joy to listen to their chatter.
We played games and ate too much. The Writer doesn’t really enjoy board games but got into the spirit of it and , as always seems to happen, by the end of the night the three men were united in rubbishing the lone woman of the household. I was glad to have them all there – the rubbishing was a small joy as well as a tradition.
Board games are well and good , but Christmas Eve is not complete without Charades- there was much wild gesticulating, laughter and groans, as we worked our way through such classics as Startrek, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Askahban and A Stitch in Time Saves Nine. The boys were totally ignorant in the proverbs department so we had the joy of being able to educate them a little about what an actual needle and thread are and what you use them for – a concept that delighted them with it’s antiquated ideals of thrift and frugality.
After the games The Writer lit the candles and dimmed the lights and with Christmas music filling the house we chatted for awhile before we all drifted off to bed.
Christmas morning started with eggs and bacon followed by waffles and raspberries. Both are traditions in our house but we each usually limit ourselves to either the sweet or savoury- this year we all had both. The Writer has been on a fat free diet recently and so I’ve been joining him – we both enjoyed the Christmas breakout.
The morning disappeared in a flurry of gift opening. We all had put a lot of thought into our gifts and everyone was happy to see they had given a gift that was appreciated. I was grateful that my art earnings had made it possible to donate to my favourite charities the same amount I had spent on our family. As much as I appreciated my gifts I felt true joy to know that there would be people that would have their sight restored , food on their table and help when they needed it.
The rest of the day was full of food, games, laughter and music.
It was a small Christmas, only the four of us, but that first Christmas started with a family of three in a humble shelter. There was wonder,love and hope, I’m sure there was concern andworry about how life would work out for their small family. It’s not always easy being a family but there is joy to be found in the small things, , the unexpected hug from the non hugging son, the quiet chat that reminds you of the protective feelings one son has for his less socially adept brother, the sacrifice The Writer makes in asking for one more game just so we can prolong the day as we draw closer together over shared memories and traditions.
Whether you celebrate Christmas or not I hope you have your own quiet joys and traditions that give your life depth and meaning. That you feel loved and needed, that you can help others in some way and that you feel connected to our shared human family .