Sharing our special family celebration

Tomorrow we celebrate the birth of Christ. Christmas it is for Christians a happy time a time of expectation a time to build family memories.

Attempting to mine my own memory of the earliest Christmas experienced I was led to the old Stone Church. Extant today it sits alongside Highway 17 some 15 miles south of Culbertson. The rugged old building sitting by the crossroads is hallowed for my own family. Our great grandfather was the stone mason who shaped those building blocks of native limestone. He had emigrated from Ohio, a veteran of the Civil War, along with a strong-willed bride, to homestead alongside the Driftwood Creek. Gramma Hoyt was definitely the matriarch of the clan but that is a whole 'nother story.

It was Christmas Eve and I was seeing it through the eyes of a three- maybe four-year-old. Fresh snow lay on the ground but the Stone Church was warmed by a wood fire in the iron stove back by the door. We sat in a pew near the front really close to a huge, freshly cut and decorated Western Cedar. What intrigued this small boy were the lights, many white candles in saucer shaped holders each with a handle. All were pinned to the cedar branches. The other decorations were most likely home made paper chains simple but elegant. Memory reminds that I was terribly disappointed because the candles were never lighted. They just sat there poised and ready but never lit. Good sense now tells me that lighting them would have been a huge fire hazard but for a young boy those were all future concerns.

Probably Santa came that night; he always did at later Christmas Eve programs. Santa's gifts would have included a paper sack filled with an apple, an orange, ribbon candy and peanuts in the shell. Oranges were a rare special treat in that day.

Later that same night my excitement peaked at seeing Santa's sleigh tracks in the fresh snow. I spotted the tracks while riding back home in the family's Model-A Ford, a Tudor, after church services. Most likely I stood between my two older sisters, Margaret and Virginia in the backseat. Brother Tom would have been a babe sleeping in mother's arms. The two tracks I spotted in the snow were narrow and fresh. I remember that my dad seemed a bit skeptical that they were made by Santa but I just knew that the jolly old gent was headed for our small home dug halfway into the side of a hill. Whether Santa made it there I remember not as most likely I was asleep at the end of our journey.

Seventy some Christmases have come and gone since that special first night experience. While a child the family tradition was to attend special Christmas Eve services when available. Then presents were opened next morning after farm chores were finished. Probably the most exciting present ever was finding a brand new Whizzer Motor Bike on the front porch obviously left by Santa for brother and me.

Married and with children of our own we celebrated Christmas while living on both the East and West Coasts, near the Canadian Border and in the Rio Grande Valley. We made it back home to Nebraska to celebrate the special time whenever possible. Only once was I separated from family serving temporary duty in Alaska while Ann and children were in Oklahoma.

That Alaskan Christmas was really special. I was privileged to ride on a helicopter with Santa as we landed on the frozen Yukon and handed out presents to the native children at the little village of Ruby. That was quite a contrast to passing through Hawaii other years just before Christmas and seeing palm trees colorfully decorated with Christmas lights.

I've always loved the special Christmas music, well maybe Handel's Messiah not so much. Children's programs at school and church warm my heart. Bright young faces are special to watch and remember doing the same. Best of all is hearing and understanding the message that God did indeed send his Son to live on earth and preach the message of redemption for all who believe.

This year Grannie and I are driving to California to celebrate with our son and his young family. Dusty wants to build memories for his children to remember the special happy family time that is our Christmas.

His youngest is four years old and hopefully her first memory of our special celebration of Jesus' birth will include Grannie Annie and Papa.

That is how I saw it.

Dick Trail