Just One Picture

It seems like such a long time ago, when the celebration of Christmas was new to me, and so exciting, and sparkly, and holy. And yet, in some ways, it just seems like a short time ago, when I posed in my red velveteen skirt in front of Grandma's tinsel-covered Christmas tree in Bloomfield, my newest doll in one arm, with my other hand resting possessively on the handlebars of my new (to me), light blue tricycle.

Little Danny had something new to ride, too, a rocking horse, possibly made by Grandpa in his basement workshop. His left hand was poised on the horse, ready to ride into the sunset, sixgun pointing at some invisible villain. He was even dressed for the job, just like every other little boy who lived in the late 1950's.

This is the only Christmas picture I have from my childhood. Black and white photos, like this one, were only taken on special occasions and, even then, we weren't guaranteed a good picture, since we had to wait and see what developed, weeks later, when the pictures finally came back from being processed.

Just like this photo, Christmas was simpler then. Christmas trees were usually real, often free, cedar trees, cut from someone's pasture. The lights were multicolored, the ornaments were breakable, and the tinsel was essential. Most people I knew kept their decorating to a minimum, with a wreath on the front door, and a nativity set displayed near the Christmas tree. Some town residents strung lights outdoors, too, and put up nativity scenes or lifesize, wooden cutouts of Santa and his sleigh, in their yards or up on their roofs. Every town had some sort of decorations strung between light posts, zigzagging their way back and forth across Main Street. It wasn't unusual for a city park to include a lighted, life-sized, nativity scene.

The radio stations started playing Christmas carols a few days before Christmas. Television networks were just beginning to air a few, fuzzy, black and white, Christmas specials.

Every school had a Christmas program, with a mix of Christian and secular music. Every Sunday School presented a Christmas Eve program, with kids in costume, acting out the Christmas story, and singing "Away in a Manger" and "Joy to the World." After each program, every child received a brown paper bag of goodies--an orange and, maybe, an apple, unshelled peanuts, ribbon candy, a couple of chocolate bonbons, and a red and white striped candy cane.

Parents and most grandparents were fairly frugal in their gift-giving, but the kids were excited, just the same.

Most of the things I've mentioned still happen today, but on a much grander scale. Many families have more than one artificial Christmas tree, and those who decorate their homes and yards go all out, with decorations sometimes covering every available surface. Presents are plentiful. Digital photography and videography, in full, vibrant, color, document each family's celebrations, and are shared on social media.

Christmas celebrations are often more secular now, but many of us still remember the reason behind it all. I still see kids with sparkling eyes, eager to help tell the story of Jesus' birth via the internet technology that we already take for granted. I am as excited now as I was then, so many years ago, to sing "Silent Night" in the candlelight, on Christmas Eve. 

Because, no matter how we choose to celebrate Christmas, one thing remains the same: God sent his son, Jesus, to be born a baby in far-away Bethlehem. That tiny, helpless baby grew up and accomplished the impossible when he died and rose again for us, simply because God loves us that much. 

Christmas, 2020, in the Bauer household

For a child is born to us, a son is given to us... And he will be called: Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  
Isaiah 9:6-7

 (I'm sure I can find a few more old Christmas photos in an album or box in Mom and Dad's basement. I intend to look, next time I'm in Fairbury.)