BYU/UTAH GAME Although it was a total bust- We all had a grand old time watching the Football game. Afterwards was the best part... digging in to Paul's famous Guac! and Stephen even made tasty Brazilian lime drink! Mm Mmm!
And of course... LOVING another tradition! The Annual Gingerbread house building!!! Thanks Meemaw and Granpaw- for the fun kit! Always so much fun!
And.... since here we are so close to Christmas we just want to tell you all how much we love you!! We didn't send out cards this year (I know... what is wrong with me? The first in 16 years that we haven't sent them out.) But.... we have loved getting yours! We love you all so much, and wish you a very Merry Christmas!
We hope to set our goals high this year, and remember what matters most! Actually.... because we usually don't do a very good job at this, we tried something new this Christmas. We followed the book "The Last Straw," and picked names to serve each other each week. With each act of service we get to put straw in the manger-- surprisingly it's worked-I know... shocking! Our manger is growing with straw! The kids have been so excited to secretly help each other... it's been fun to watch! We are thankful for ideas that help us along the way, and help us learn what matters most! I love the story that Cheri wrote up a few years ago (below-long- but I love to read it to my older kids- Thanks Cher!).... And since this has become my mini journal, I thought I'd include it. I have it framed so we can always remember how blessed we are, and how watched over we are! I hope I never forget to give all I can- and lighten other people's load along the way! We are so thankful for the example of our
Savior Jesus Christ, and love Him so much!!!
Have a very Merry Christmas ! We love you!!!
The Spirit of Santa – Christmas Eve 1978
(By Cheri Christensen 12/17/07 )
It was late Christmas Eve, 1978. I had just turned fourteen. In some ways this Christmas Eve was like all the others: beautiful dinner, program and family. Christmas dinner in those days was ham, au gratin potatoes and the three-layer Christmas jello. Mom always played “O Holy Night” on her violin and Grandma Christensen accompanied her. (I loved this. The piano part was grand with a lot of rolling chords. Mom’s violin playing was filled with emotion, with grand crescendos praising the birth of our King, and yet at times tender and sweet to remind you of the sacredness of the event. Mom has such a gift for music!)
Just like every Christmas Eve we enacted the nativity in ‘78, with all seven of us children taking part. This year Douglas, the newest 8- month old member of the family, was baby Jesus. Cosi was a sweet Mary. Dan was himself, an energetic and teasing Joseph. The rest of us – Dave, Debbie, Rich and I filled in the other parts, all dressed in our finest bathrobes and towels. We always acted out the story of Christ’s birth as the second chapter of Luke was read from the scriptures. But this year was different. Dad was not there. He always read the scriptures. But this year Grandpa Christensen read instead. Dad had been called home to our Heavenly Father by way of a scuba diving accident in March. It was still unbelievable. And even though we seven children we were filled, no I should say bursting, with anticipation of the soon approaching Christmas morning, there was a very real absence in our happiness. Being fourteen I was keenly aware of the reality that Dad’s absence was difficult. After his death, Mom had renewed her teaching certificate at BYU, and had been teaching orchestra part time. How she ever managed I will never know. My responsibilities at home had increased and I had begun working that summer--working at ‘Zestos’ a local hamburger shop for $1.60 an hour. (Not much even back then, especially considering the fact that mom had to drive me to downtown Provo twice a week.) I would save some of my paycheck for school clothes and give the rest to mom as “milk money.” I don’t know if she really needed it but I was happy to be helping.
After the program and dessert Grandma and Grandpa went home. I’m sure the kids (I, of course, no longer considered myself a ‘kid’) went straight to bed. We knew Santa would not come unless we were in bed! At fourteen I knew all about Santa Clause. A few years before I had asked Mom those brave words, “Is Santa real?” Her response was something about the Spirit of Santa . . . giving . . . but the only words that seemed to matter were these: “Those who don’t believe, don’t receive.” Nothing more was ever said about the subject. I knew my happy responsibility as the oldest child was to not tell and to continue enjoying the magic of Christmas. So Santa…or should I say, the Spirit of Santa, was to remain in our family!
After the Grandma and Grandpa left, I remember helping Rich who was two year old at the time, into his pajamas. ( I always laid down beside him in his bed and pretended I was asleep. And when I knew he was finally asleep, I carefully crept out of his bed and snuck away without making a sound!) I was just heading downstairs to go to bed when from the top of the stairs Mom asked, “Cheri, could you stay up and help a little bit longer?” With Dad being gone now and being the oldest child, I knew what she was asking! I was going to be a part of the big picture of Christmas! In a way I felt honored to be filling in for Dad. And with such and invitation into the adult world, I eagerly turned around and went back upstairs to help mom.
Well, helping was not what I thought. After what seemed like several hours of cleaning up and washing dishes, I was wondering when the Santa stuff would begin. Maybe we did have to wait until the middle of the night! After a while Mom came into the kitchen (where I was doing dishes) and softly said, “Cheri, come here.” I followed her to the front door. She motioned for me to open it, the cold swept in as I did. There on the front porch was a huge box! A box the size of a washing machine! With great effort Mom and I pulled it inside and closed the door to the cold outside. The top was not closed and I could see unwrapped gifts for the whole family! Someone was helping us with Christmas! Someone cared. Someone unidentified. We began going through the gifts. There were toys and games, socks, clothes, candy and wrapping paper – and even things I unassumingly knew were for me! We quietly carried the gifts up the stairs. (The box was too big and heavy to carry all the way up the stairs and into the family room where the tree was!) As we did this I wondered who could have done this – people from our church ward? Grandma and Grandpa? The gifts were exactly what we needed and wanted! During the evening Mom explained to me that the “Lions Club” – who I could only associate as some unknown group of non-LDS men – had called and asked if they could help our family that year. Mom had told them what we needed. I can not describe the feelings I had at receiving those gifts. The child in me was ecstatic at the thought of all the Christmas gifts, but the budding adult in me was so sad that we (and especially my mom) were in the circumstances of being so needy. While Mom was thankful to receive the gifts, there was no beaming smile on her face. We missed Dad so much. But the Christmas child inside me naturally won! Mom and I cheerfully wrapped the gifts. My mind was filled with thoughts of how delighted each of my brothers and sisters would be in the morning. I was so excited to be “in the loop” of knowing what everyone was getting! I could hardly wait to see their faces as they saw all the gifts under the tree – and Mom and I were the only ones to know that Santa had really come!
As the years have gone by and I have reflected on that Christmas Eve in 1978, I am humbled. We were so blessed. My mother’s grief and heart ache is unfathomable to me, but we had so many people willing to help. Mom’s cousin, Max, owned a small shoe store and that year for Christmas we all got to pick out a ‘free’ pair of shoes from his store. I remember Dave really wanted hiking boots and we all knew they were too expensive, so Dave picked out a different, less expensive pair of shoes. But Max had noticed Dave eyeing those boots and insisted that Dave have the boots! I’ll never forget Dave’s radiant smile! I know for years to come my grandparents helped Mom with Christmas. Ward members were always kind and always looking out for us. How blessed my family was to have been surrounded by such love.
I wish I could remember what my mother told me about the Spirit of Santa. But as I have grown older, I think I understand it better. While some parents think it trickery to let their children believe in Santa, I do not. I want them to believe that someone cares. I think Santa portrays in us a desire to unselfishly give -- anonymously. To seek out those in need. To give without any expectation of receiving. Is that not what Christ has done for us? Is that not the true meaning of Christmas? May that Spirit of Santa always reside in all of our hearts. Merry Christmas!
2 comments:
Great post Cosette! Love the Thanksgiving recap and the Christmas festivities! You guys always are the life of the party! Seriously, you are so much fun to be around. You're the best! I love the story by Cheri too...And... it's okay to not send out Christmas cards sometimes... I didn't do it for the past 2 years :P
We had the most wonderful Thanksgiving at the "house hotel" as one of the grandkids called it. Thank you Colorado Cranes for hosting the Crane Thanksgiving gathering.
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