Christmas Day 2008

December 25th. 

Jonathan woke me up at about 4:30 in the morning asking if we could open presents. Good grief, he's 18 for cryin' out loud. Actually it just seemed like 4:30, because it was dark outside at 7:30 and I had only gotten 4 hours of sleep. I had, it's tradition you know, been up until 3 a.m. wrapping presents again. 

Oh yeah, one of the tough times was about 1 a.m. I thought, hmmm, there should be a Christmas movie on while we were wrapping presents and getting everything ready for Santa to come. But it was just me. That was a lonely time. Nobody to encourage (or be encouraged by) to get it all done before we went to bed. No one to make out with, while the kids were asleep. Well, we usually did that for a few minutes anyway. We had to do something to stay awake. 

So I was feeling a bit contemplative. Not sad really. Just... a bit... detached? I don't know. Excited about the kids seeing gifts in the morning. 

Anyway, Jonathan came in at 7:30 and we all gathered on the bed, that was another tradition. No one got to open presents until we all got on the bed. And then we made sure everyone had contacts in. (Another of Ruth's gifts to the kids, poor eyesight). Then we all went to the living room and sat for a minute. Not awkward really, well maybe just a little. And I started a brief discussion about Ruth. We talked for a few minutes. We were sad she wasn't there. We knew things would be a bit tempered without her, but still there was excitement about opening presents. And more than just opening our own, we were watching the others open theirs. Excitement not about what we got, but about what we gave. 

After the 'snowstorm of wrapping paper', we played with toys and ran remote control cars into the tables, chairs, sisters, anything that got in the way. 

Traditional Christmas breakfast didn't happen. No 14 flavors of cheeses and summer sausage and pigs in a blanket and other familiar fare. Hey kids, whatever is on the table is for breakfast. Dig in. Bethany was singing an old Bill Cosby song. "Daddy's great. Gives us the chocolate cake" Well, leftover birthday cake from yesterday. And other traditional Christmas fare. Pringles, Peanut butter and jelly, powdered milk, Hershey's kisses, granola bars, and peach juice. 

But a great thing that day was going to the north to Jane and LeRoy's for Second Christmas (kind of like "second breakfast" except funner). 

We had a Christmas feast of Turkey and Ham and dressing, green bean casserole, sweet potato pie and all my kids at lunch. Amazing. Then we gathered around the tree and Wesley read the Christmas story, traditionally read by the youngest reader. He read it while trying to eat chocolate and lick his fingers. He has incredible diction. You could hear every syllable. 

And the whole time we are all looking at the tree and all the gifts under that thing. (The story was something about Jesus and Mary and getting born and being given one name but being called another. Those gifts were just so distracting.) 

Oh my goodness. It was another snowstorm of wrapping paper. And guess what? More remote control cars! I seriously think we got 14 remote control cars between us. 

David read a hilarious version of when the house in Blossom, Texas almost burned down. And he was on the toilet. 

We even went shopping on Christmas day. Almost everything is open. 

I had way too much chocolate. Man was that awesome. 

Another tradition at their place is watching "The Greatest Christmas Pageant Ever". Which was fun 70's entertainment. At least for me until one scene late in the movie where they are in church and the organist is playing hymns. One of the pieces in the movie is "Wauchet Auf" by J. S. Bach. That was the song that Ruth processed down the aisle to at our wedding. 

That song. 

It is glorious. And majestic. And simple. And classy. 

An unexpected tough time. But a sweet remembrance. That song has always provoked emotions. Deep content, quiet exhilaration. Especially since it became such a significant song. Tied to more than an event. A happening. 

Completely caught off guard. It blind-sided me. That song brought amazing feelings to the surface. That emptying feeling came over me again. Leaves me tired emotionally. Drained is an interesting word. Like something seeping out. I wanted to be away, be alone, but I didn't want to make a scene either. So I just stayed there. For the next couple of hours on and off I was reminiscing, remembering Ruth in so many ways. Not constantly, but I would often drift back there to those memories. Maybe not memories of places and things, but memories of feelings and emotions associated with the places and things. I am doing a terrible job of describing this. 

Maybe it makes this day more special. A backdrop against which the glories of today shine forth. Wonderful day. 

Not the morose heavy-hearted day people told me it would be. It was still Christmas, and we still celebrated a birth, and we still sang songs and opened presents and loved being together. I'll take days like that any time.