Because I Know Now

A nine-year-old child learns the true meaning of Christmas.

Two of my older siblings and I rang the bells on Christmas morning, it couldn't have been later then four in the morning, but who could wait? It was Christmas day, and Santa had come! It was snowing outside, below freezing, and the silver moonlight mixed in our living room with the tree lights. Yet it was warm and nice in our house as my sister, brother, and I rang those bells ferociously to wake up our other siblings and parents.

"We're coming!" my oldest sister yelled down to us. "Stop ringing!" Jeni, Kevin, and I ran into the living room to claim our areas. Jeni took the spot right on top of the air vent, and right in front of the window looking into the bleak winter sky. Kevin, being himself, sat right next to the Christmas tree, so he could get to the presents faster then the rest of us. I, being the youngest of my family, and therefore most likely to be kicked out of the better places to sit by older siblings, settled myself on the other side of our L shaped couch.

After what seemed an hour at least of waiting, our other two siblings made their way down the stairs. Kori was holding her camera that she received the previous Christmas, and taking pictures of the beautiful sight. Eric and Kori took their places, and we turned on a Christmas movie to watch while waiting for my parents to come down.

After about twenty minutes or so, my siblings sent me upstairs to bang on my parents' door to get them out of bed.

"We're up! We're up!" my dad cried to me. "We'll be down in just a minute, Red," my mother added.

When I was on the landing of the stairs, I watched my sister put the baby Jesus in the manger scene above our fireplace. That Christmas I was only nine years old, I wasn't sure about Santa, and I started to realize more and more that December that it isn't because of Santa that all the good little boys and girls get gifts on December 25, it's because God gave us the greatest gift of all. He gave us salvation when we deserved none. He gave us His only Son to come down from Heaven and save us from our sin.

As soon as the baby Jesus was in His manger, I ran over to our other Nativity Scene and pulled Jesus out from behind it. This set was, still is, old. My father bought it for my mother their first Christmas together, before my father even celebrated the same beliefs as we do. The paint on the golden hay was chipping, and discoloring, some places it was completely gone. The brown painted clay that was the wooded part of the manger was also chipping and discolored in places, but the little baby Jesus, He laid in His manger, completely complete. No paint was discolored or chipping, no paint was missing from the ceramic child. I kissed the little manger piece, and laid it in between Mary and Joseph, one Holy Family.

My siblings had already picked up their handmade stockings by this time. I've always known that my dad's mom had made them for us, but I didn't really think much of it. She made each one individually for us, the years that we were born, each one different; different patterns, different threads, different pictures. The holders that hung our stockings, the holders that have hung our stalkings for as long as I can remember, my mother's sister made them for us. I looked at our tree last as I was reaching for my stocking, most of our ornaments were made by childrens' hands, mine and my older siblings. Pictures of family were inside of some of them, some of them had finger prints, and Hershey Kiss noses, others were forgettable, they faded into the background. Yet every year when we go out to cut down our tree, we bring it home and put the same ornaments on it.

There were things about Christmas that I never noticed before, little things that can bring people who share almost nothing, together. The stockings that my non-Catholic grandmother had made us, the stocking holders that were beautifully made by my aunt. Little trinkets on our tree that would mean nothing to anybody else, but we look at them and remember times in the past, times when Eric was an only child, times where I was only a baby. Things that trigger memories, make us laugh each year when we see them, and sometimes they make us wish to cry.

I was sitting back in my spot behind the couch when my parents came downstairs, I looked real quick at our little manger scene, and I realized for sure at that moment, none of this could be if that little child had never been born. None of this could happen if God didn't give us the best gift of all so many years ago, going back to the very first Christmas; the day that our savior was born.