More Than Memories

Christmas with a child in the house is a very different experience. It, like everything else in parenting, has become a much more intentional affair, and just letting it pass by without much fanfare or deliberation is no longer acceptable (if it ever was). I still don’t think she understands all of what’s going on, but she is able to talk with me about it and seems to be processing things. She knows that Christmas is Jesus’ birthday, and is asking for me to make Him a birthday cake. (That will be in a couple of days.)

She knows that the big guy in red is “Slaus” (as she calls him), and points to the fireplace when she asks if he is coming.

She knows that the presents under the tree are not for her, even though she helped pick some of them out and even “helped” me wrap them. Strangely, she remembers who each one is for and can pick out their gift when asked.

I don’t know how much of all of this she will remember, but I take my job of “memory maker” and “legacy leaver” very seriously. The tree and the stockings and the traditions of the season are important to me, of course, but the most important thing to me is that she grow up knowing that Christmas is about more than all of that. A nativity on the kitchen table and a cross on the tree and a candlelight service won’t teach her how much God loves her and the lengths He went to save her. That’s up to me, and she will know.

Oh, she will know.