This year, I discovered the real meaning of Christmas.  All this time, my head has been packed full of The Wrong Purpose Of Christmas, and I never really appreciated the holiday as I’ve learned to appreciate it this year.

As a young child, Christmas was a “Better Watch Out” sort of tradition, where our parents disciplined us by saying, “Now what do you think Santa thinks of this sort of behavior?” Whomever said that bribery was wrong didn’t have young kids.  It worked.  Christmas was about behaving so that I would stay off of Santa’s shit list and ultimately get lots of toys (everything I asked for).

As I grew into an adolescent, I learned that Christmas was about some special baby born in some city I’d heard of in Sunday School.  I was familiar with the tales, the stories, the nativity.  I was raised singing Christmas carols and lighting candles on new years eve.  All of the church groups touted sneers towards the secular Santa and reminded us that Christmas important because it was God’s birthday.  God was some omniscient, omnipotent crazy jealous guy in the skies.  I knew it had to be important, but I never did like spoiled kids who insisted everyone know and celebrate their birthday.

In my teenage years, Christmas was about seeing how many different parents’ houses I could visit in one day.  First, Christmas was celebrated at home with my mom and step-dad, then I’d go to my dad, Derric’s side of the family, and then I’d try to squeeze in a trip to bio father, Keith’s. It was extremely stressful, very overwhelming, and I usually overate by a long shot before the end of the day.  The good note was that I got lots of presents, and the bad part was that I never bought anything for anyone because there was no way that I could afford presents for three different families.

Once I moved into adulthood, I adopted a sort of bah humbug attitude towards the holidays.  I started thinking that I never had any money, I hated going shopping–especially at malls, I couldn’t stand carols and I despised Christmas commercialism.  The whole holiday was a crock– people would be guilted into buying overtly atrocious gifts for their beloveds just so they could feel a sense of self-worth.  They would know they couldn’t show up for Christmas Eve Candy Cane Pie without a diamond from some money hungry blood-diamond selling slave trader lest they be considered inadequate.  I hated this part of the holiday more than just about anything else.

This year, though, I learned about the REAL purpose of Christmas.  It wasn’t at all anything I’d ever been taught before.  I was almost taken aback at how simple the real purpose of such a misunderstood holiday is.  Christmas is about children.  Christmas is about providing for your loved ones.  It’s about being able to ensure a satisfying holiday without losing your temper, bursting into tears, or having to file bankruptcy afterwards.   It’s about spoiling people you love with smiles, laughter,  ham or turkey or prime rib, gift bags, tissue paper, ribbons and wrapping paper.   It’s about putting up a tree in your front window so everyone can admire your beautiful decorating job.  Christmas is about giving.  It’s about homemade ice cream and pie.  It’s about dealing with the family you don’t like and spending more time with the ones you DO like.  Hearts always come home for Christmas, they say.

I think I grew up some yesterday.  I realized why the ladies of my family do the dishes after dinner and the men hang out and watch football, letting the ladies do all the clean up.  I realized that sometimes traditions change, and when they do, it’s often a good thing.  If it doesn’t quite work like you thought it would, try something differently next time, but always remember that there’s a reason for change just as much as there was a reason for the traditions.

Yesterday was my first Christmas with my new “grown up” family.  I brought children to my childhood family’s gathering and am now “suddenly” thrown (willingly) into the role of Parent with the Kids (who were absolutely the best, most well-behaved kids any of the “elders” had ever met).  My family whole-heartedly embraced my new role, my new family, and they, too, provided.  It was beautiful.  I provided, they provided, and we all spoiled the kids together.  I’ve never really understood it until now.

Christmas is different now that I have someone to share it with.  I’ve had plenty of boyfriends, but none who were actually willing to be part of my family–until this year.  It’s very different than being Single Ash versus being Family Ash.  I think I like Family Ash and Family Christmas a whole lot more than I’ve ever liked it.   I remember telling my family back several years ago about how much I hated Christmas.  I can understand now from a new perspective just how hurtful that could have felt to them.  I GET it now, and don’t think those words would ever come from my mouth again.  Christmas isn’t about commercialism or about being bad or good.  It’s not about anyone’s birthday– except maybe Natalie’s.  What Christmas is about is being able to provide for your kids and loved ones– it’s about giving gifts and eating great food.  It’s about family– as much as you love and hate them…

I have a whole new appreciation this year.

1 Comment »

1. 

   This is great info to know.

   Comment by Kuniko — October 27, 2008 @ 7:53 am

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