Christmas in Norfolk
When I think of the ideal Christmas tree, I always think of my Grandma and Grandpa Vawser's tree. They always chose a large, pungent, real evergreen tree with rather sparse branches, so we could see and appreciate each delicate glass ornament. Old-fashioned, multi-colored strings of lights were looped around the tree, blinking on and off randomly in the dimly lit living room. (I miss that kind of Christmas tree; now, my allergies dictate that our Christmas tree must forever be artificial.)
The presents were piled high under the tree on Christmas Eve, spilling out onto the surrounding floor. Grandma was never extravagant in her gift-giving, but she always made sure that every one of her six children, their spouses, and eventually, her 20 grandchildren and numerous great-grandchildren, always received a gift. She thought carefully about each gift, even though she and Grandpa often gave duplicate gifts to people with similar interests. One year, the boys who were around six to ten years old were thrilled to receive identical robots that actually lit up and moved. Another year, several great-granddaughters were blessed with lovingly hand-crafted Cabbage Patch dolls. Many no-longer-young children and grandchildren still treasure the beautiful, hand-painted ceramic nativity sets that were doled out, two or three pieces at a time, over several years.
I remember, somewhat vaguely, one or two Christmases at the farm near Bloomfield, where we all squeezed into the small living room to celebrate Christmas together. At that time, when the grandchild count was only at five or six, the Vawser family still filled up a room when we all got together. A few years later, we were able to spread out in the new house in Norfolk. I remember one year when Uncle Lee dressed up as Santa. The older grandchildren were giggling in the kitchen, shaking the sleigh bells at the top of the basement stairs, while Uncle Lee admonished us to make sure we didn't let the little ones in on the secret that Santa was really their uncle.
Family Christmases usually included much extended family and in-laws (even in-laws of in-laws, if you know what I mean.) We knew our cousins' other grandparents and aunts and uncles quite well. My little sister was probably ten years old before she sorted out which relatives belonged in which family, because everyone was always invited to the Vawser's house for holidays. Christmas was never boring for us at Grandma and Grandpa Vawser's house, because we always had plenty of cousins to play with and lots of good food to eat.
Every Christmas Eve, the Sunday School kids presented the Christmas story at the evening worship service. Grandpa and Grandma Wegner drove from Bloomfield, through the lightly falling snow, to attend the Christmas Eve program with us. I'm sure that some of the Vawser relatives were there, too. The year I was six, I wore a red velveteen full skirt with straps, and a white, long sleeved blouse, white tights, and shiny black shoes. That year, the program was held at a school auditorium, because there was not room at Mt. Olive Lutheran Church for all of the children and their families. The children sat quietly in rows of chairs on the stage, under the spotlights, with each class standing to sing, in turn. I still remember the words for "Oh Come, Little Children," and "Little Children, Can You Tell?" and "God Loves Me Dearly," although it's been many years since I've sung any of those old Christmas songs for a Christmas Eve Program. Like most children my age, I first memorized many familiar Christmas carols, like "Silent Night," and "Joy to the World," so I could sing along with my Sunday School class for a Christmas Eve service.
Santa Claus came while we were at the program, helped out by one or two of the old men who were permanent residents of the Oxnard Hotel. (Putting our presents under the shiny, aluminum tree was probably the only Christmas celebration for those men, who considered us to be their family, too.) We really didn't spend much time at our apartment for Christmas, but we stopped at home right after church to see what Santa had brought us, before heading back over to Grandma and Grandpa's house, just a few blocks away.
On Christmas Day, we drove the fifty miles to Bloomfield to eat Christmas dinner with Grandma and Grandpa Wegner. That celebration was much smaller and quieter than Christmas with the whole Vawser clan, because the entire Wegner family included only my immediate family of five, my grandparents, and Mom's younger brother and sister, Uncle Gary and Aunt Ellen. We enjoyed sharing gifts with one another, then playing cards or board games in the afternoon.
It's fun to reflect on past Christmases and family traditions. Some things never change, just as Jesus' love for us never changes. The ways we celebrate, some of the songs we sing, even the people in our families may be different now than they used to be, but the real message of Christmas is still the same: Long ago, in Bethlehem, God sent His only Son, Jesus, to be born a baby, to live and die and rise again for us, so that we can live with Him forever.
I remember, somewhat vaguely, one or two Christmases at the farm near Bloomfield, where we all squeezed into the small living room to celebrate Christmas together. At that time, when the grandchild count was only at five or six, the Vawser family still filled up a room when we all got together. A few years later, we were able to spread out in the new house in Norfolk. I remember one year when Uncle Lee dressed up as Santa. The older grandchildren were giggling in the kitchen, shaking the sleigh bells at the top of the basement stairs, while Uncle Lee admonished us to make sure we didn't let the little ones in on the secret that Santa was really their uncle.
Family Christmases usually included much extended family and in-laws (even in-laws of in-laws, if you know what I mean.) We knew our cousins' other grandparents and aunts and uncles quite well. My little sister was probably ten years old before she sorted out which relatives belonged in which family, because everyone was always invited to the Vawser's house for holidays. Christmas was never boring for us at Grandma and Grandpa Vawser's house, because we always had plenty of cousins to play with and lots of good food to eat.
Every Christmas Eve, the Sunday School kids presented the Christmas story at the evening worship service. Grandpa and Grandma Wegner drove from Bloomfield, through the lightly falling snow, to attend the Christmas Eve program with us. I'm sure that some of the Vawser relatives were there, too. The year I was six, I wore a red velveteen full skirt with straps, and a white, long sleeved blouse, white tights, and shiny black shoes. That year, the program was held at a school auditorium, because there was not room at Mt. Olive Lutheran Church for all of the children and their families. The children sat quietly in rows of chairs on the stage, under the spotlights, with each class standing to sing, in turn. I still remember the words for "Oh Come, Little Children," and "Little Children, Can You Tell?" and "God Loves Me Dearly," although it's been many years since I've sung any of those old Christmas songs for a Christmas Eve Program. Like most children my age, I first memorized many familiar Christmas carols, like "Silent Night," and "Joy to the World," so I could sing along with my Sunday School class for a Christmas Eve service.
Santa Claus came while we were at the program, helped out by one or two of the old men who were permanent residents of the Oxnard Hotel. (Putting our presents under the shiny, aluminum tree was probably the only Christmas celebration for those men, who considered us to be their family, too.) We really didn't spend much time at our apartment for Christmas, but we stopped at home right after church to see what Santa had brought us, before heading back over to Grandma and Grandpa's house, just a few blocks away.
On Christmas Day, we drove the fifty miles to Bloomfield to eat Christmas dinner with Grandma and Grandpa Wegner. That celebration was much smaller and quieter than Christmas with the whole Vawser clan, because the entire Wegner family included only my immediate family of five, my grandparents, and Mom's younger brother and sister, Uncle Gary and Aunt Ellen. We enjoyed sharing gifts with one another, then playing cards or board games in the afternoon.
It's fun to reflect on past Christmases and family traditions. Some things never change, just as Jesus' love for us never changes. The ways we celebrate, some of the songs we sing, even the people in our families may be different now than they used to be, but the real message of Christmas is still the same: Long ago, in Bethlehem, God sent His only Son, Jesus, to be born a baby, to live and die and rise again for us, so that we can live with Him forever.
Comments
Post a Comment