Ten Speeds and Two-Story Snowmen

Merry Christmas!  I thought I’d start the week with something fun.

Our church service tonight was different.  When sermon time came, our pastor turned it into audience participation.  Sunday night services at our church draw a smaller crowd, so this worked well.  He asked whomever wanted to share memories of Christmas…whatever we wanted to tell.  Many people spoke up.  Stories ranged from poignant to funny, and it turned into one of my favorite Christmas services I can remember, despite pricking me with homesickness.  Most of the memories came from childhood.  It seems like our hearts permanently tuck those away, don’t they?

So, I thought we could do the same thing here.  Are you up for it?  Share whatever Christmas stories you want – funny or serious, or simply something that stuck with you.  I’ll start with a few random memories of my own.

– When I was really young, Santa set up shop inside a huge snowman near our house.  I was fascinated by the whole setup.  The snowman sat in a shopping center parking lot, and Santa lived inside with nothing but a chair, noting our dearest wishes for Christmas.  You know how as kids things loomed bigger than they were?  The snowman had to have been five floors tall to me, but in reality was maybe two.

– I loved Christmastime with my family–my parents and older sister.  Every year my mom, sister, and I would make Christmas tree cookies with the same Mirro cookie press.  The best part was sprinkling candy decorations on each one, making each a unique creation.  …A unique creation that was soon gobbled up.  My parents gave me my own Mirro press the Christmas I was engaged.

– My sister and I had different ideas about what time to get up each Christmas morning.  She thought that more sleep was needed before finding out what Santa brought us.  I thought that bordered on heresy: dawn was a very reasonable time to go see our big Santa surprise. The unwritten rule was that we had to go to the living room together.  One year my patience with Sleeping Beauty was wearing thin.  I thought that if I snuck into the living room and previewed the Santa gifts and then reported to her, she’d be more motivated to get up.  She woke up to me informing her that Santa had brought her a new ten-speed bike.  She scowled.  Apparently ruining the surpise only motivated her to keep this story running in the family for close to 30 years. (Love you, Sister!)

I could go on and on, but I’d love to hear from you. What’s your story?  I’m all ears.