Christmas emotions change with years and generations

This post was originally published in the Wilson Times Dec. 28, 2019.

In practical terms, Christmas is over. The after-Christmas sales have begun. But indulge me as I think of Christmas in the present tense on this fourth day of Christmas, with eight of the 12 days of Christmas remaining.

When the children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren and great-great-grandchildren of my parents gathered in Charleston, S.C., “the Holy City,” last weekend, I found myself reflecting on Christmases I have known over my lifetime. My conclusion is that life goes through several episodes of Christmas emotions.

As children, we are consumed by the excitement of Christmas, an excitement too great for young children to examine and understand. The word “miracle” pops up frequently in young children’s thoughts. They hear about the “Christmas miracle” of God made flesh-and-blood human in the form of a helpless baby in a stable. “Miracle” is also an apt description of the assortment of gifts, candy and celebration, in quantities with usually unimagined magnitude. Candies, nuts and fruits overflow stockings in quantities that are normally forbidden. Children get what they ask for, with some exceptions, and parents loosen their rules on candy consumption and behavior. A mysterious benefactor in a red suit and a magical sleigh makes this impossibility happen — one day out of the year.

Christmas is every kid’s favorite holiday. You can find them out on the street or front yards at daybreak, playing with new toys — bicycles, air rifles, dolls and games. This inexplicable mystery is played out against the soundtrack of Christmas music that every radio station and every store’s sound system plays endlessly leading up to Dec. 25, then the music goes away for 10 or 11 months.

I was sure my parents, who struggled to feed and clothe five children, could not afford the expensive toys that appeared magically in the living room. It had to be a part of the Christmas miracle discussed at church and of the legendary Christmas saint, who loved children so much he provided toys for them. It had to be a magical conjuring that got all those toys into all those houses. Nothing could be better than being a child on Christmas morning.

Then, when the child matures, questions myths and expects rational explanations, something else happens: The grown-up child discovers that there is one thing better than being a child on Christmas morning. It’s being the parent of a small child on Christmas morning. While a child glows with excitement, a parent feels a greater joy, greater gratitude, and a greater understanding of what human happiness really is. In family lies the greatest happiness of all.

As parents age, they observe the maturing of their children, and Christmas becomes not just a bonanza of toys and treats but also, and more importantly, a family ritual of celebration and renewal built around shared memories and a dining table that now includes grandchildren. The consumption of treats and the sparkle in the eyes of children with new toys mean less than the re-stitching of the family fabric. Grandparents enjoy the vicarious excitement they feel with each new grandchild. While nothing can replace the thrill of your child’s first few Christmas mornings, seeing grandchildren experience that same joy offers a time machine experience.

As a new parent many years ago, I wanted to show my children what my Christmas mornings had been like: a pre-dawn awakening, excitement that made my whole body shudder, and a drive in the dark to my maternal grandparents’ rural home, where a large breakfast and a crowd of aunts, uncles and cousins awaited. More gifts would be distributed after breakfast, then a hefty lunch would be served before our exhausted carload returned home.

I could not replicate that experience for my children, although we did something quite similar for several years. I could only tell them how I felt about that Christmas routine. Now my children and grandchildren have their own routines, and my wife and I have ours, which we try to mesh with those younger generations.