Christmas Supplement

Grandma’s house and Dad’s stories are special memories

By Laura Stevenson (Special to The Criterion)

My mother’s family always got together on Christmas Eve every year.

My Grandma had a big old house that was great for family gatherings. There was lots of good food brought in by everyone.

But the best part of the celebration was the opening of the living room door to see the Christmas tree, decorations and presents for the first time.

Grandma would line us up in front of the living room door by age—youngest to oldest of the grandchildren—then the door would be opened.

We never saw who opened the door. I think it was Santa since we heard him working behind the door all through dinner. I could never eat much because I was too nervous about what was going on behind that door.

Grandma’s tree was real so she did not buy it until Christmas Eve. Then the adults gathered to decorate it, put up her decorations and lay out the presents.

How did we not notice that one or more of our parents were missing while Grandma herded all 11 grandchildren through dinner to get to the best part of the night—the living room door opening?

The living room looked just like something out of a magazine and presents were everywhere.

As an adult, I realize that there really weren’t that many presents and the decorations were beautiful but normal.

But as a child, it was the anticipation, the love, and the gathering of family and cousins that made this night so magical in my mind.

My Dad believed in the true meaning of Christmas. To him, it was about the love of family and time well-spent celebrating family.

Before gifts were exchanged, we all gathered around his chair in the living room to hear him read the Christmas story about the birth of the Christ Child in Bethlehem and a poem on the meaning of family, whether it be by blood or friendship.

He read this story and poem every Christmas for 56 years, even telling it from memory after he lost his sight in the last few years.

For the few minutes that it took to read the wonderful account of Christ’s birth and the story of family, there were no differences, troubles or problems in the world or in our small family.

Although I have heard the account of Christ’s birth many times over the years, nothing will ever compare to having my Dad read it to us on Christmas Eve then look at us and say, as Mary did with her Son, “ ‘Ponder this in your hearts’ throughout the year, and remember how lucky we all are to be here tonight celebrating once again our family and the family of our Lord. Let’s think about and say a prayer for those in our family that are not fortunate to be here with us tonight. … Now let’s open presents.”

Dad has been gone for two years, but the family tradition is living on—and the memories of what Christmas means and memories of my Dad are just as bright.

(Laura Stevenson is a member of SS. Francis and Clare Parish in Greenwood.) †