If you missed the first part of this series, go to The Spirit of Christmas – Part 1

Christmas Morning
As a boy, going to sleep Christmas Eve and waking up Christmas morning were always agonizing.  First of all, it was impossible to get to sleep at night knowing that Santa would soon be coming down the chimney, and then the slightest noise or light would wake me up way too early several hours later and I would lie there in agony waiting for Mom and Dad to rise – usually early for them around 6:30 AM.

My brother, Jim, and I were not allowed to place one foot out of the bed on Christmas morning until Mom and Dad “woke” us and OK’d our rising. Then teeth were brushed, beds were made and robes were donned with hearts a’pounding as Dad would be the first to go downstairs and put on the Christmas music and announce with great surprise that, in fact, it looked like Santa had been there a few hours before.

I was always in the bathroom first before Jim and then had to wait the interminable wait for him to brush.  I swear he took more time than usual just to drive me crazy.  Then I learned to play my little game with myself.

We had a two story cathedral-roofed living room with a small balcony on the second floor overlooking the living room big enough for maybe 3 people to stand.  If I were to stand there Christmas morning and look down upon our Christmas tree I would be able to see stacks of presents, perhaps a new bike with bow, perhaps a new addition to my drum set and definitely the whole shebang.

So while my brother brushed, I would close my eyes and make my way out on to the balcony, eyes shut and stand overlooking (but not looking) the loot of Christmas.  I would stand there eyes tightly shut and count slowly to 25 and then turn and walk back out of line of sight into the hall still with eyes shut and heart pounding.  It was the royal tease.  It was the supreme anticipation.  It was the last of the moments before the climax of a month’s longing.

In all those years, I never peeked.

Had I done so, it would have broken the spell of Christmas.  I would have cheated and lost a great experience.  Here I learned that the anticipation was a great part of the true excitement of Christmas.

Finally Mom would go down and Jim and I were allowed to “walk, don’t run” down the stairs and “walk, don’t run” into the living room.  There we were always met with the wondrous sight of Christmas – piles of presents, our 12’ tree and Mom with a tray of hot chocolate.  There we would sit and oh so carefully drink that hot chocolate in a living room that would not see kids with drinks in their hands for another 365 days.

As we drank and waited for the next sip to cool, my eyes would stray over to the waiting treasures beckoning, beckoning, beckoning…

Finally, when mugs were drained, we were allowed to open the first present – youngest first.  That meant me.  It would be me, then Jim, then Mom, then Dad and then me again and so on.  And it would go on like this for the rest of the morning – taking turns, patiently waiting as each one slowly unwrapped, exclaimed, thanked, hugged, admired and often even played with, for a moment or two, the gift.

Years later as an adult I was invited to spend Christmas with another family with three little kids.  By the time I woke Christmas morning, the 3 kids had already awakened, rushed downstairs and en mass, ripped open ¾ of their presents all at the same time within about 20 minutes as their parents slept on.

By 8:00 that morning Christmas was over, the kids were screaming and crying in their disappointment and frustration at having nothing else to open and nothing to give.  The experience ruined my Christmas.  I didn’t even want to go downstairs and join in the “fun”.  For me it wasn’t fun; it was just Christmas Pandemonium.

As a child, we would take hours to unwrap, no two presents could ever be unwrapped at the same time and we all had to watch each other unwrap.  If one person had to take a potty break, we waited.

We’d stop for breakfast around 10:30 and go back to it after breakfast until noon savoring the delight of each gift.  In our little family of 4, it quadrupled the anticipation, the joy of giving and, yes, the joy of getting.

It made giving just as important as receiving and I recommend the practice to all families.  It was a wonderful lesson in discipline and family togetherness.

A few words on the importance of robes and hot chocolate. What is it about these two elements that make them so ingredient to Christmas morning?  To me it’s equivalent to tuxedos and champagne on New Year’s Eve.  Or perhaps bathing suits and hotdogs on the fourth of July.  Robes create an immediate intimacy, (though I don’t ever remember my father ever wearing one.  I think Dad was always either fully dressed or in the bath tub.) an intimacy that pulls a family closer together.  If the neighbors were to show up, one would immediately get dressed.  Without the neighbors there, you were just a family in special costume – the costumes of intimate togetherness, drinking hot chocolate, the food of filial bonding.

The other great tradition of Christmas morning was ‘thank yous’.  They were a major part of the morning and were a part of every moment of giving.  If you forgot to say “thank you”, you could miss your turn at gift opening and once you did that once or twice as a youngin’ it was unlikely that you would forget again.

Finally, when all that was left was the wrapping paper, it was time to clean up.  This was not Mom’s job; it was all our jobs.  Bows were separated out and kept for next year and all boxes were gone through again to make sure no instructions or extra parts were thrown away.  When the living room was returned to Christmas normalcy, we were then allowed to jump to that favorite present and begin to play.

Strange that I don’t remember a single thing about any Christmas afternoons that I ever had.  I don’t remember playing with any longed for toy or the slightest detail of any of it, but I can recount the details of the anticipation, the excitement and the gratitude of Christmas morning in great detail.

This doesn’t say a lot for material possessions, but says everything for family traditions, discipline, togetherness, giving and gratitude – all the more spiritual elements of the spirit of Christmas.

I tried hard to maintain many of those traditions raising my own son in the face of a world that seems to want to discard tradition and place most of the value on whatcha get.  As an adult Christmas remained a special time for me with all its excitements intact because I remained the giver.  Therein lies the true joy of Christmas.  Now my own son has grown up, moved out and the season is longer, more commercial and somewhat more confusing.

But the true spirit still remains secure in my heart and soul, for what my family had as a unit was the spirit of the Christ, the giving, healing togetherness of one – one family united in love.  This was a great blessing to grow up with and one that I shall never forget.  I was one of the fortunate children on this earth – to grow up with the true spirit of Christmas.

For more inspirational music, thoughts and ideas from Peter Link,
please visit Watchfiremusic.com.