The 3-foot, Plastic, Light-up Santa

That time of year has rolled 'round again. Lights are going up all over the neighborhood. Stores are playing Christmas music on repeat, and the Internet is rife with blogs and "grams" hosting virtual holiday home tours.

As I write this, the dining room of my own little casita has our seven foot pencil tree perched in the corner, yet bereft of ornamentation, eagerly awaiting tiny hands to fill it profusely as high up as their small arms can reach.

This approaching season sparked a conversation the other night between Tom and me about childhood Christmas memories.

There's something about traditions. The repetition, the sameness, the predictability that fosters a sense of comfort, safety... belonging. The Christmas Eve candlelight service. The childrens' pageant. The familiar carols. The pews crowded to overflowing with family and friends gathering once again under the same roof to worship the newborn King.

When I was a kid, my aunt, uncle, and cousins attended the same church as my family and I did. We spent a number of years together on Christmas Eve celebrating first at church, and then after at my grandmother's little house. My Nana and Grandad lived but a few blocks away, and after church we'd all head over there for tamales and chili, eggnog (usually reserved for the adults), chips and dip, and some Christmas treats complete with Nana's favorite: chocolate-covered cherries.

Upon entering, we'd find Grandad in his familiar chair in the living room, watching TV. He wore these earphones that were plugged into the television by a long cord spanning the width of the room. I don't recall if it was because he was hard of hearing or just that he didn't want the noise to disturb the visiting. I remember one year, when I was old enough to wear heels to church, greeting him with a kiss and subsequently catching my spiked heel on the cord, yanking the earphones off his head! "What the... (bleepety, bleep)!" came the response before he just shrugged and laughed it away. Ahhh... good times.

Nana would be in that tiny kitchen, cooking away, stirring the chili, heating the tamales, and always soo happy to see us all there together.

My grandparents had a converted porch that was added onto the back of their house. It had jalousie, louvered windows on three sides, and a linoleum covered concrete floor. That was the place most of us, especially us as kids, hung out. One end had a large chest freezer, and on the other was a Dearborn gas heater. Their house was small, a two - bedroom, one bath, just like the casita, but it certainly was cozy, and at least to me, exuded a warmth no heater could match.

I remember in particular the one, solitary Christmas decoration Nana always had at Christmas... this three-foot, plastic, light-up Santa. It sat on the chest freezer, and my grandmother would place the gifts around the base of it. I can still hear her say with a kind of excited twinkle in her voice, "I get to play Sant-y Claus!," as she handed the presents out to all of us.

That memory. Those years, which in my opinion went by all too fast, lasted until Tom and I got married, and Nana became too frail to continue the tradition.

What a stark contrast their house, that single ornament, the simple gathering was to the perfectly manicured trees, color-coordinated decorations, charcuterie boards, and elaborate parties so many people have become accustomed to these days!

Back then, it was simply about being together... celebrating first the Christ-child and then, with our family.

Maybe that's why I like living in this little two-bedroom casita ourselves... where the family, our grown kids and spouses, our grandchildren crowd in and fill this space with so much love it can hardly be contained. We still celebrate the Savior's birth first, each family in their respective cities and churches now, but then we come together here to feast on tamales and chili, chips and dip, Christmas treats and, yes, even with an honorary box of chocolate-covered cherries.

I know that one day time will steal away these gatherings as it does with all things... but until then, these memories, these traditions, the sameness, the predictability will, I hope, create that sense of comfort, safety, and belonging in my own grandchildren, and will one day be remembered fondly by them too.

When it comes to celebrating Christmas, perhaps the simpler really is the better. Worship and celebrate first God's gift of our Savior, and then celebrate the precious God-given gift of family. It needn't take weeks of preparation or be elaborate in any way. It can be with a single, seven foot, profusely ornamented pencil tree, or even just....

a three foot, plastic, light-up Santa.

God's blessings to you as you prepare your heart for celebrating our dear Savior's birth.