Christmas Eve

     All through my childhood, I recall Christmas Eve in particular. The family ritual of midnight mass was upheld strongly in our home. For a six, seven, or 8-year-old, that's sort of difficult. Especially knowing Santa was to come in the morning. My parents installed wonderful traditions and atmospheres for my siblings and me for every holiday, but most cherished was Christmas eve. Daddy would sit in his chair and I would crawl on his lap watching Perry Como or Bing Crosby sing "White Christmas" or "Silent night" on the old box TV that had no remote, just knobs to turn. I recall one time when something was wrong with the TV and Dad's Navy buddy " Willy", who just happened to be a TV repairman, was working away while I sat and watched, praying that it would be able to be fixed, (and of course it was), especially in time to watch all of the Christmas specials. "Rudolph the Red-Nosed reindeer",  "Frosty the snowman"" "it's a wonderful Life", "White Christmas", "Holiday inn", are just a few of the regular shows that were a must-see in our home each year. I watch them now and it transports me back to a time where I felt safe and loved. 

   Having to go to bed, for a few short hours and then having to get up from midnight Mass each year, usually walking in the snow because our house was just down the street, wasn't  a to desirable thought for me. I wanted to dream and lay in my warm bed of sugar plum fairies and presents that Santa would bring me. But every year, we did it. No one complained. The five children and mama and daddy made it there to witness and experience another year of joyous celebration at the birth of our Lord. The miracle that took place, so long ago, was as fresh and new each year as it was the first time in Bethlehem on that starry night. 

    There was a woman named Mrs Vidal who always created a spectacular scene of Bethlehem and the stable with all of the animals and Jesus, Mary and St Joseph in the stable. Her magnificent artistry presented the most glorious scene. I can close my eyes to this day and still see it in my mind. The mass was long but for some reason we were all able to stay awake. We would arrive back home where, at 1:00 a.m. my mother would fix a magnificent breakfast of sausage and eggs and hash browns, fit for a King. A glass of red wine was toasted at the beginning of the meal with my father standing there, raised glass, to say the blessing. I remember thinking how I couldn't wait to be old enough to taste the wine also, because of course, us little ones weren't old enough yet. 

    Finally off to bed. A full tummy and a loving home. The excitement of the morning swirled through my head with me thinking I would never get to sleep, but somehow I did. 

    Waking in the morning to a front room full of toys and candy. We would all sit there tearing into the presents. What a joy! What a memory! Mama and Daddy surely made it seem like Santa's elves had been busy all year because everyone always got what they wanted. 

   I remember thinking after the adrenaline of the morning had calmed, me looking deep into the crib scene that always was placed on the mantle and thinking "finally you're here sweet baby Jesus".

    Instilling family traditions into your home are quite necessary in my eyes. They are still reliable constancy and in this world today it's much needed. 

     Jesus, Mary and St Joseph never fails us with their constancy of their arrival each Christmas. Bringing to us a joy, that all the toys and presents in the world could never measure up to.

     Letus always keep "Christ" in Christmas and may the Peace that that sweet baby brings us each year, remain in our hearts forever. Merry Christmas! 

   May Peace lay over this world this night at that holy hour as we recall the spectacular event that "Christ" was born to all