"'Do not be afraid. I bring you good news of great joy that will be for all the people. Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is Christ the Lord.'" (Luke 2:10-11)
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My Christmas was so full of joy this year. I’m pretty sure that every year I say it’s “the best” Christmas, so I will remain consistent and tell you that it was definitely the best. Jenn from work offered to switch shifts with me so that I could have Christmas Eve off, which was extremely generous of her to do. (I was so happy to have both Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off!)
That day we went over to my grandma’s house in Spring Valley. It’s a funny thing because she has a hard time distinguishing me from my sisters now that my hair is so dark. I hug her and she hugs me back, but all the while she has this look on her face like she’s trying to pull a name out of the drawer of an 89-year-old file cabinet in her head. I finally just tell her, “Jenna,” and she mutters something about how she can’t believe how old she is. We ate the wonderful dinner that she said was all Uncle Rob’s doing and listened to her talk about the neighbors: who was moving out, why they built that new fence… interesting factoids about people I don’t know (haha). Afterwards, we lingered around the table and asked my grandma questions about her life growing up while secretly videotaping her from the opposite end of the table. I say “secretly” even though the video camera was obviously sitting there with the recording light on. I think she might have just decided to go along with our plan of documenting her past, and I’m happy that she let us (if she did know). My great grandmother knew the Wright brothers, come to find out. You know, the ones who built the first airplane? Pretty interesting stuff, I think. I never knew her journey to California before this Christmas Eve, and I’m so thankful for my new appreciation of where she came from. Born in 1920… you sure would have seen a lot of interesting changes in the world, that’s for sure. And seeing it from the perspective of someone who’d been accustomed to saving tin foil from cigar boxes and gum wrappers to make Christmas tree ornaments is something really special. As we ended the night at her house, we opened presents (a pair of XL pajamas that maybe she thought I might need after all of the Christmas feasting!) while Star Wars: Episode 4 played in the background. Yes, while many families have A Christmas Story on their TVs, we have Star Wars and discussions about Chubaka.
After leaving her house, my family and I went to a candlelight service at FUMC, which proved to be what we all needed on this Christmas: a remembrance of what Christmas is really all about, the birth of Jesus Christ. When we finally got home, the rest of our cars were covered in a thin layer of frost and my grandpa (my mom’s dad) was waiting there for us. I wanted to read some of Luke before we all went to bed (except for my parents, who had to wrap presents), so we pushed the couch over to the fireplace and gathered around its warmth. I had literally just opened my bible when we heard a huge bang somewhere outside. My sisters were convinced that it had come from our back yard and that someone had just broken into their bedroom. While everyone headed out into the back to see what it was, I made my way out to the front of our house where the yellow light of car headlights streamed down the black asphalt of our road. My sister Cristina had just joined me as I saw one of my neighbor’s cars pushed up into the brick wall in front of their house by a white SUV. [oß , this is my best representation of what happened. [ = the wall; o = my neighbor’s car; and ß = the SUV that hit my neighbor’s car. It was obvious right away that whoever had hit their car had to have been extremely drunk. When the police arrived, I realized the drunk driver to be another of my neighbors, the father of some childhood friends. It was suddenly way too personal for me to handle. Christmas Eve and their dad was being arrested by one of my sheriff neighbors for driving under the influence. We went inside, saddened and quieted by the ordeal. I pray there was some resolve for both families.
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Christmas morning came so fast. I consider it one of the perks of still living at home that my little sister runs into my room saying “Merrrrry Christmassss!” at 8 o’ clock in the morning before bounding into my parents’ bedroom to wake them up. She’s fifteen, but on Christmas morning she’s six again. We all stay in our Christmas PJs and take turns opening presents, making them last as long as possible and watching in anticipation as they open your present. I cherish this moment with my family not because of the presents but because we are all together and we are all smiling with so much joy.
We’d just finished unwrapping presents when Josh came over. He looked so handsome in his red sweater while we all still rocked the pajamas. A little flannel family. His arrival meant a few more minutes of present opening and another trash bag for the wrapping paper. His gift to me: a new digital camera, which I immediately started taking pictures with. I told him that he had to get used to me taking more pictures of him now. After all the unwrapping that could be done was finished, we sat down to a delicious breakfast my mom and dad had put together.
We planned on leaving the house by noon to head up to my cousins’ house in San Juan Capistrano, but that soon got pushed back until 1 o’ clock. We didn’t actually leave the house until approximately 1:53, however. The rest of the day and night at their house went extremely well. I was so excited for the rest of my family to finally meet Josh, and I knew they’d love him right away. We ate some great food and watched a beautiful ocean sunset from their roof; Josh smoked a cigar and I told him I wouldn’t kiss him the rest of the day (I couldn’t stick to my guns on that one, I caved); Josh and I played around on their baby grand piano; I proved that I officially stink at table tennis; and we ended off the night with Josh, my fourteen-year-old cousin Kristen, and my cousins’ boyfriend and his bandmate jamming out with their guitars while the rest of us ate pie and tapped our feet to the amazing music. It was a beautiful day. I am so blessed by my family and my amazing, talented boyfriend. As my sister said as I watched him play his guitar that night, “he made me melt.” I’m not sure about the phrase, but as I watched him I just knew how extremely fortunate I am that God brought him into my life.
Thank you, God for such an amazing and joyful Christmas. Thank you for my family and friends. Thank you for sending your only son to die for us.
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