And so it begins.
I withdrew a piece of blindingly white paper from the notebook, and wrote the names of my family in precise rows, next to which I put the letters S - stocking, and P - present. I stare thoughtfully at the corner of the ceiling, and contemplate which whims of my people I can afford. I'm keeping it small this year. Well, actually, I've always kept it small, formerly because I never had enough money to go more than $5 a person big. But not this year. I'm rich this year. And I'm still keeping it small. I hate to sound like a magazine article, but seriously more and more I laugh in disbelief at the insanity of the season.
I fill in the blanks of my list, and smile when I anticipate the barrage of sly questions people will ask me. "What are you getting for Halleleyah this year?" my little sister Halleleyah will casually say, making her voice sound as much like Michael's as she can. My brother will pretend to eavesdrop at the door, even though he wouldn't dare spoil his suspense for anything.
I guess when it comes down to it, I love Christmas. I love keeping people in suspense. I adore surprising them with something they were SURE I would never get them. Or something unexpected they never said they wanted, but secretly hoped they'd get. I love how much we laugh. I love stirring the fruitcake concoction, and breathing in the warm spices. I love sharing the first candycane of the year with my beautiful little sister. I love the crisp bite in the wind, even though I don't like being cold. I love that Jesus somehow decided we were worth leaving the spirit realm, and becoming a mortal human for. I love that He couldn't let us die for our sins, but died for us, even though we mocked Him for it.