I remember the days when we lived on the farm; Mom and Dad didn't have an extra cent to spare, but we had the best Christmases and a whole lot of fun. We'd eagerly get up Christmas morning to open our gifts, which were new socks and underwear. Now, that may not sound like a big deal, but it was for me because I wore the boys' hand-me-downs. Seriously - we were that poor.
My dad liked my hair short (probably because I was always playing in the pig pen and it was a ratty mess), so Mom would cut my hair short. We were at the grocery store one day (I was maybe 5), me in my boy clothes and short hair, and Dad runs into someone he knows who asks, "and who is this fine young man?". :| Really? Maybe that explains why a transvestite once told me I need to dress like a girl.
I don't know why I threw that paragraph in.
So as I reflect on the true meaning of Christmas - God's gift to us, to bring us back into relationship with Him - I think of the days when material items weren't such a big deal but relationships were. When life wasn't so busy and for fun we did things that didn't cost a dime - like playing in the creek (or the pig pen), or walking along the stream (as a family) all the way around town and back home. Maybe I'll take a stroll along that creek again.
And by the way, it still isn't Christmas unless we get our new underwear and socks. ;)
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