Christmas "presents" are hard to appreciate. I've found that, for me, it is tempting to live Christmas in the past tense rather than in the present. Growing up, Christmas was the best time of the year. It was pretty much the only time that my parents purchased toys (that and our birthdays, of course). The whole Santa Claus deception made the December air tingle with mystery and excitement. Even after the demise of Santa, that same feeling of electricity remained as I would search the house to discover my hidden presents. I remember vividly every aspect of my childhood holidays: the TV specials, the school Christmas programs, the bustle of Fred Meyer department store, the eggnog, the Warnick extended family party, the decorations on the tree, the Christmas lights. I remember the stories we used to read as a family, particularly a story about children who trick their parents on Christmas Eve by turning the clocks ahead. I remember all our old family vinyl Christmas albums and the church Christmas parties. I remember driving to a needy person's house to secretly deliver toys and food. I was always the first one who was ready to start celebrating Christmas, usually around mid-November.
Additional memories were added as I grew older. In high school, Christmas meant band concerts, the beginnings of basketball season, and first adventures in love (alas, always unrequited). On my Mormon mission, Christmas meant the excitement of discovering foreign traditions (fireworks!), along with deeply spiritual moments of friendship and service -- moments when I proved to myself that Christmas could be much more than presents and decorations. Christmases in Champaign, Illinois, were marked by new friends and memorable participation in an extremely talented and dedicated church choir (if you don't know, I like to sing, in a pinched-and-faltering-bass kind of way).
With such poignant and powerful memories, it is hard not to try to spend my current Christmases trying to recreate those of my past. I often try to relive those past moments, but they never seem to be quite as powerful as I remember. Dickens had it right when he describes the spirits of Christmas as ghosts, fleeting, ephemeral, and appearing on their own timetable. The songs and Christmas TV specials, for example, are still loaded with memories. Yet, even as I recall how I once felt listening to them, I am aware that the current feeling does not match the past intensity. The disjunction between past memories and present emotions can feel a a bit troubling, as if suggesting that the best of life is behind me, never to return. But that feeling is, I hope, ridiculous.
It has slowly dawned on me over the years that, rather than trying to forever summon the ghosts of Christmas past, I need to raise a toast with the ghost of Christmas present. I need to deeply inhale the new memories swirling about my young family. Instead of feeling the mystery and excitement myself, I can appreciate it through the eyes of my children. The sights and sounds of Christmas, rather than existing in an unchanging past, should be forever supplemented with new experiences. Memory can serve to enrich the present, but it can also be a prison. Carpe Christmas diem!
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