Those red, green and white traditions

By now most of you have climbed into the attic or sunk into the depths of the basement to haul out those boxes of treasured relics. No, I am not talking about the 1965 baseball card set you inherited or the prom dress from your first prom. I am talking about the most treasured set of boxes in the storage area of your choice. The Christmas stuff.

Some of you just went “Ahhh,” like when you see the baby for the first time, and some of you went “Egghh,” like when the flashing red and blue lights show up in your rearview mirror. Nevertheless, it is time.

With boxes filled with ornaments that have been hung on trees for generation after generation, and ornaments that have barely seen one Christmas celebration, these boxes hold a tradition of joy, peace and love. But for others, these boxes are like a torture that we can never escape from. It comes every year like the tax man and promises to come again next year.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I love Christmas, and I love the holiday feeling that these little once-a-year, elven decorations evoke. But when our wives say, “Honey, could you get the Christmas stuff for me?” we cringe. We don’t think of the nativity scene or the animated Santa. We think of lights, and moving furniture, and lights, and going shopping, and lights, and putting it all away again in less than a month.

Someone needs to invent siding for your house that already has the lights built in - but it has to be programmable. That way, when our wives pick the coldest, windiest day of the year for the lights to go up, not to mention on a Sunday when the football game is on, we can just go flip a breaker and … “Ahhh,” the lights are up. No bad bulbs, no knotted up strands of lights, no 30 trips to the store for more. What? Wrong color. Just a couple of taps on the keyboard and “Ahhhh,” the lights go from pure white snow to Santa’s Red Hat.

Of course, we could just be smart and think ahead and not have to be told. So she just told me. We have tried that; that’s why we want to leave them up year round. That does not work either. Although it does come in handy when we have that BBQ late night dinner in July and we need the extra mood lighting outside. But alas, the lights will come down, more than likely when it is even colder outside in January.

But this time we will plan head. We will wrap every strand of lights perfectly and gently lay them in the box so that when the time comes for the next torture treatment (next year) we will be a well-oiled, light stringing machine. Nevertheless, we all know, we will be purchasing the newest and greatest lighting invention and our perfectly wrapped up and prepared lights go into the yard sale pile or the trash. And we swallow hard.

Of course, once we get the lights up, the tree trimmed, stockings hung and gifts wrapped, we always take a big breath and look around. We see the ornament our grandmother gave us when we were young. We see the star on top of the tree that sat on top of our mom and dad’s tree every year. We see the twinkle of the hung lights in our child’s eyes. We see our relatives shaking their gifts and trying to guess what the treat is inside. Our wife in the kitchen preparing cookies and fudge, smells of warmth and memories fill the space. We realize that once again this year we made it, we did it. Slowly, as we slip into bed on Christmas Eve it hits us. It is worth it.

We would take this torture treatment with pride again tomorrow to see that child’s face filled with wonder and excitement again. We would even hang strings of lights in the most difficult places at the coldest time to see the smiles on our wives’ faces. As we drift off to sleep on this night and we prepare ourselves for the visions of sugar plums, pumpkin pie and a wrapping paper explosion, we know. We know that Christmas is a time of tradition, love and family. With that comes some sacrifice. A sacrifice that we will gladly take on again and again for the love of our family. Kind of like the sacrifice a certain person made for us a long time ago. The same person that happens to have a birthday on that very day we were decorating for. A sacrifice for you and me. Yep. Love, it is a powerful thing.

So this year when you’re surrounded by twinkling red, green and white, take a moment and remember grandparents, parents and others that made your Christmas extra special. Plus the person responsible for making this all possible anyway. Christ.

Oh, and could someone please invent that siding. I’m just saying.