By Randy Haglund
Christmas is not all Candy Canes and Snowmen for everyone.
Mental health professionals say that many people suffer from anxiety at Christmas because of family dysfunction or painful memories associated with the season. I’m sure we all have mixed emotions at this time of year.
But I still love Christmas.
My earliest Christmas memories involve an aluminum tree with a color wheel. I know it sounds weird, but as a young child I thought it was wonderful. I would lie on the living room floor mesmerized by the color changes.
“Mom, look at the color now! That’s my favorite.”
“That’s a good one,” she would say.
The vision of presents piled under the tree added to its glory. When my parents weren’t looking, my brothers and I would try to guess what was in each package.
Sometimes I would go out to the front sidewalk at night and admire the sight of the colorful tree through our front window. It was a message to the world that this house on “E” Street celebrated Christmas with joy.
For me, Christmas was a time for sledding, snowballs, and snow forts. Sometimes we made our own sledding hills from snow we piled up in our yard, but at times my dad would drive us to Downriver Golf Course where the most exhilarating sledding hill ever existed. Back then, I still had the energy to climb back to the top dragging my sled behind me. And I’d go down again. And again.
At the age of twelve, we had the greatest snowfall ever. It was so deep that when we looked out the front window we couldn’t see the neighbor’s house except the roof. My older brothers shoveled the roof and jumped into the snow pile in the yard. I wasn’t allowed up there. I don’t know why. If I would’ve fallen off, it wouldn’t even hurt. Maybe my mom was afraid they couldn’t find me in the snow.
My friend, Ron, and I built some really cool snow forts that year. The one in the back yard looked like a big igloo. We cut a hole in the side for a window, and left an opening for a door. The floor was cold and wet, so my dad gave us a couple old pieces of carpet for a floor, which lasted a day or two. Then the carpet became even soggier than the ice floor. He also found a can of blue Krylon in the garage which we used to write “THE HIDEOUT” above the door, announcing to the world exactly where our hideout was.
As a family, we watched all the usual Christmas specials on our old black-and-white R.C.A. console television. Shows like the Charlie Brown Special, The Little Drummer Boy, and Rudolph delighted me. My parents liked watching Andy Williams, and Lawrence Welk. We gathered around the T.V. again when Miracle on 34th Street came on.
At church, My mom sang soprano in the choir at Hillyard Baptist during their Christmas pageant. Over the years, I played various parts in the play depicting the birth of Jesus.
On a side note, I remember when my son played one of the wise men in the pageant several years ago. He and two other boys came down the center aisle carrying what appeared to be gold, frankincense and myrrh. He held a large bottle which he imagined was a machine gun and pretended to mow down the congregation.
Not one of my proudest moments.
Getting back to my childhood: every Christmas eve we celebrated at my Aunt Anna May’s house and I ate lots of my grandma’s peanut butter fudge. One year I asked my cousin Benny if there was any pop to be had. We opened the fridge to find a large green bottle that looked like Seven-Up. It didn’t quite taste like the yummy lemon-lime sweetness I was looking for, but it was all they had. I had three or four glassfuls, and Benny had a couple, too. Later, my uncle Jimmy bellowed from the kitchen, “What happened to the all the tonic water?”
I got in trouble that Christmas Eve.
The most anticipated day of the year was Christmas morning. I got up before the sun, and dove into my stocking which always had an orange, nuts, and a small toy. Later, the rest of the family awoke and we opened all the presents under the shiny aluminum tree. Strangely, the only gift I remember over all those years was when I got a giant box of Lincoln Logs.
But the anticipation is what I remember more than the toys themselves. And the cheer that came from spending time with friends and family. The gifts under the tree didn’t bring lasting joy.
To be sure, not all my memories from Christmas are good.
Tragedy struck on Christmas Eve in 1971 when we received word that two of my cousins died in a car accident. Jack and Jill (yes, that was really their names), were 20 and 14 when they got in Jack’s VW Bug to drive into town that night. They had received electronic gifts that required batteries they didn’t have. They lived a few miles outside of Roseburg, Oregon and went to find an all-night store with C cells. A drunk driver crossed the centerline and extinguished their young lives.
What I remember the most is seeing my Grandma Olson sobbing and repeating, “Poor Jean! Poor, poor Jean.” My aunt Jean had lost her only two children that night.
That drunk driver robbed us all of a Merry Christmas that year.
On December 23, 2014, another tragedy rocked my world. I got a call from my mom’s best friend. “Something’s wrong with your mom, you better get here right away.”
The nursing home was ten minutes away. I got there in five. When I arrived, the paramedics were using paddles on her. That horrific image is indelibly etched in my mind.
A few minutes before midnight, my mom breathed her last with me and my brothers weeping at her side. I hadn’t spent Christmas without her in my entire life. How could I celebrate the holiday now?
That Christmas Eve, my kids opened gifts their grandmother bought them. But there were no smiles. Only tears. They would be happy to give all the Christmas gifts in the world to have their grandma back.
I know what it’s like now to have a gloomy Christmas.
But as horrible as those two Christmas’s were, I still love the Christmas season. That’s because I know it’s not about the gifts under the tree, but the gift that God gave to the world over 2,000 years ago. The gift came wrapped in what the Bible calls swaddling clothes.
In 1970, I accepted that gift. It included eternal life (John 3:16) and abundant life (John 10:10). Jesus promised his disciples on the eve of his crucifixion that “In this world, you will have trouble.”
No kidding.
“But,” he continued, “take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)
That promise is what helps me face every day. No matter what disappointments I face in this life, I know that my future is secure, and that the world will never win. I hope this Christmas season finds you well, but if it doesn’t, would you put your trust in Him? I promise you won’t regret it.
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Tell us your Christmas memories.
Wow Randy! What sad occurrences with the death of your cousins and your Mom dying just before Christmas.
You are right though- if we trust in Christ, that takes precedence over any pain and sorrow in this life.
My worst Christmas was 1971. I thought it was going to be my best. I had saved up money to buy my girlfriend a new 10 speed bike. I was invited to her house for Christmas and at the appropriate time I went to the side of her house and brought the bike to the front porch.
I was so excited thinking about her reaction. She was not enthusiastic about the gift and to make matters worse, her mother insisted that I take it back. I was devastated.
Even though we had talked about getting married, I quickly learned she had been dating other guys while away at college. She felt guilty about accepting an expensive present. She clearly did not regard me with the same love and affection I had for her.
What I thought was going to be a special Christmas ended with a broken heart that took months to get better.
So true, David! Knowing Jesus makes all the difference! Sad story, but I get the impression that God had bigger plans for you! Thanks for the input!
Christmas does bring back memories. We too had one of the aluminum trees. Thought it was the best.
I remember that my mom at that time said she remembered stringing popcorn to decorate the the tree. Me being the wise guy said said that I remember when we had a real tree. Of course we don’t have a real tree now either.
Thanks for the memories especially the the winter of 68 – 69.
I think you have many of the same thoughts that I do about Christmas. Thanks for the input Tom!
We never had a silver tree (though I wished for one) but my mother loved to bathe our green tree in silver tinsel- the real stuff. A vivid memory I have is lying on the floor looking up at the tinsel, reaching out and getting the shock of my life!!! I never quite enjoyed silver tinsel after that. Ha ha ha.
We never used tinsel. You’re safe here.