Origins and Legends of Christmas

          We had an awesome program at Relief Society earlier this month. The theme was on the origins of Christmas – why we use various icons in our holiday celebration.

          The star, the angels, the nativity . . . those I could figure out.  But where did Santa Clause come from?  Or Christmas lights? Or the candy cane – though growing up I had always believed that it was to represent the crooks of the shepherds who were “abiding in the field, keeping watch over their flock by night”  but there’s actually more to it – or so goes the legend. 

          Origins have become fabricated over the centuries.  Or else the decorative plant life was adapted from pagan celebration and reasons were made to fit the Christian holiday – which (unfortunately) often gets overlooked about why we have a Christmas and why we started celebrating it in the first place.

          I’ve now come across two sources which tell me that the candy cane originated in Indiana – a treat designed as a reminder to why we have Christmas.  The original candy cane in red and white. 

          First off the candy cane is hard – that was to symbolize comparing Christ to a solid “rock” and white stands for purity.

          The shape of the cane is not only in the shape of a crook (symbolizing the Good Shepherd) but when turned, it becomes the letter “J” which stands for “Jesus”

          Jesus atoned for all of our sins.  His blood was shed. The red of the candy cane symbolizes that blood. 

          This may have some truth to it, but according to this web page the claim is false.  But I do like the quote, “meaning is still there for those who “have eyes to see and ears to hear” – I think that’s true with all symbols if we just focus on the possible reasons as they relate to Christ.

          Clement Clarke Moore had written a poem for his children.  This later became known to the world as “The Night Before Christmas”  Using the description of a jolly man dressed in red, an artist drew the symbol that would later be accepted by the nation as “Santa Clause” a symbol of commercialism.

          I LOVE the book “I Believe in Santa Clause” written by Diane G. Adamson and illustrated by M. Chad Randall.  The book has received criticism from the Pharisee types – “How dare somebody compare Santa Clause to Jesus.”  While others rave, “This is really cool.” 

          I’d rather see a Santa Wreath decorating somebody’s car bumper than the nativity scene. I’d rather see Santa drinking coke or riding a Norelco shaver than have the commercialism of Christmas desecrated or Savior by portraying him as the one drinking coke or using Norelco. 

          Santa Clause has been made fun of, abused, loved, accepted, rejected, used, given, smiles, loves children, wears red, brings gifts . . . Jesus has been made fun of, abused, loved, accepted, rejected, used, given, smiles, loves children, wears red, brings gifts . . . granted the gifts that Jesus gives are eternal and intangible whereas the gifts we receive from Santa are tangible and don’t last quite as long. 

But there are similarities between the two that don’t have to be viewed as sacrilegious.  Santa is a part of Christmas whether you like it or not.  Maybe the problem is he’s become almost bigger, more important than the “Guest of Honor” – but with Santa symbolizing the commercialism aspect, he helps to keep the sacredness of our Redeemer.

There are some symbolisms or décor that are offered that I don’t so much care about its origin – such as the Yule Log, Wassail Punch or Figgie Pudding.  They’re not a part of my Christmas.  That doesn’t mean they’re less important to others. 

From stars evolving into candles on the Christmas tree to lights (because candles start fires – and actually so can lights) improvements have been made on many Christmas symbols.  At the same time, commercialism has desecrated so many others. 

Whether the legends and/or origins have truth or not, I really appreciate the symbolism that ties so many icons to the true meaning of Christmas.

Untraditional Thanksgiving

The thing I enjoyed most about Thanksgiving was that each year was spent with a different group of people than the year before – not always.  For the most part our Thanksgiving dinners were intimate.  10 -12 people.  Nothing overwhelming like the 30+ number that my neighbor from across the street likes to have.  The more, the merrier – or so is her opinion.  I prefer less people.

          Sometimes we would enjoy the Thanksgiving holidays with various neighbors.  Sometimes extended family.  Sometimes just us.  Each one different.  Each one with positive memories.

          I recall one year spending it with a couple who had two children.  I think mom and dad had only three at the time.  The movie, The Jazz Singer (the version with Neal Diamond as Jess Robin), had just gone to the dollar theatre.  It was part of a double feature.  The other movie was Scrooge.  Our neighbor, Mary, LOVED the Jazz Singer and I still love the musical Scrooge. 

         So after our dinner we went to the theatre to see both movies.  I believe it was the only time I had ever gone to the movies on Thanksgiving Day.

          Mom’s neighbor from across the street LOVES Thanksgiving.  Her idea of a perfect Thanksgiving is having dinner with OODLES of people.  30, 50 – though not always an overwhelming amount, I think it is the norm.  We’ve probably had dinner with their family at least five times during my life time. And it hasn’t always been with all of the same people.

          I remember having Thanksgiving dinner with my dad’s family one time.  We had gone to my aunt’s apartment.  We usually didn’t spend Thanksgiving as all of us.  My dad’s brother spent the holidays with my aunt’s family.  But there was that at least that one time.  It was a long time before Corey or Kayla.

          After Patrick got married, they would often alternate holidays – spending every other Thanksgiving with her family and then Christmas with ours and vise-versa.  One year when they’d gone out of town, we asked my dad’s sister and her family to come spend Thanksgiving with us.  The year my dad passed away, we drove out of state with Patrick and Sunny to spend the holidays with her family.

          The thing I love the most about Thanksgiving is we get to spend it with a new group of people pretty much every year.  It may seem nontraditional to do it that way.  But it’s truly what I enjoy most about Thanksgiving.

          This year we had Thanksgiving dinner (lunch) the Saturday prior to Thanksgiving.  We held it at the Church building that Patrick and Sunny attend.  Sunny had decorated the table so nicely.  18 chairs had been set up and each family contributed to the meal. Kayla made her first sweet potato pie ever.  Corey really missed out with that one.

 Each of us had also brought games to play.  My family ended up playing only one.  My mom was becoming more and more restless and Roland and I took her and Jenna to the movies.  It was nice to hear my mom enjoying the movie.  I thought she’d nod off but she didn’t. 

We missed Corey this year, but I am grateful that he has the opportunity to spend the holidays with his honey (for a change).  I am grateful for our non-traditional Thanksgivings.  And I am grateful for my families and for Sunny who seems to hold us all together.

It hurts just a little bit

          Since we were children, mom has made it a tradition to take each us out for lunch or dinner on his or her birthday.  I don’t know how old we were when the tradition started.  We used to go out as an entire family and gradually just the birthday child.

          This continued for the grandchildren after Patrick and his wife started having children.  I remember going out with the oldest two with the entire family – which gradually turned into just Patrick’s family and then just the grandchild. 

          I know my youngest nephew was four when my mom took him out.  His mom and I just happened to be with them.  I don’t know where we went to eat (probably somewhere exciting – like McDonald’s) but I do remember him choosing a pair of green overall shorts that probably only fit him just that one day. 

          I remember him saying, “I am four.  Today is four.  And I wear four”  The overalls were marked size four – I think they must have been mismarked however.  I seriously don’t believe he wore something that small since he was two. (My nephew is quite large in stature)

          After I married, my mom continued to take out Patrick’s children, but never mine.  She did acknowledge the boys’ birthdays for the most part.  But she stopped remembering when Jenna’s birthday even is.

          My mom and sister were both in the hospital with me the day that Jenna was born.  But my mom does not remember.  It’s not her fault.  She may have dementia.  There’s a lot that she doesn’t remember.

          My sister’s baby is almost two.  Grandma’s favorite grandchild – or so it appears.  But I don’t know if she remembers what month she was born either.  Although she might have an idea as their birthdays are only a week apart (eight days).

          So it’s not just Jenna who won’t be celebrating birthdays with Grandma.  My sister’s two children will probably never know my mom the way Patrick’s children did.  Before she had dementia.  Before when she had more independence and a driver’s license. 

          I miss my mom.  I’m sad for the loss that her three youngest grandchildren may never know first handedly.  I am grateful that each of us have memories to share.