The day before Thanksgiving I woke to a world white with snow and the neighbors Christmas lights shining through the grey dawn. In that moment I felt cheered. The colored lights made me feel hopeful and optimistic.
In town I saw a city truck piled high with sparkling “snowflakes” to be hung along the main street.
On the face of the Commonweal Theatre is advertising for their Christmas show – words proclaiming the return of a family favorite the Sanders Family Christmas by Connie Ray, with musical arrangements by Gary Fagin and John Foley.
The signs of the beginning of the Christmas season are a welcome reminder that what is beautiful is still within reach and that each day is a gift to be unwrapped.
The setting for my formative years as a child took place in a Victorian home in Huntingdon Valley, Pa. A hallway proceeded from the front door separating two living rooms. One faced south, the other faced north. Both had fireplaces where wood was stacked ready to be lit at will. Our Father was a tree surgeon. There was always a pile of logs split and ready for a fire.
As a child I looked forward to Christmas morning. My two older sisters and I would sneak down the stairs and marvel at what we saw. Both living rooms had live trees, floor to ceiling covered with lights. Under each was a mountain of presents in sparkling array. We headed for the south living room where there was a fire, flames dancing in the fireplace. Here the family gathered to begin the days festivities. Our father pulled back the curtain revealing the contents of the “Representation.” Each year he brought out the wood stage he had constructed, which was about four feet in length. On the left there was a flock of sheep coming down a grassy hillside. To the right was a shelter where Mary and Joseph looked down on the baby Jesus asleep in the manger. In the middle was a small angel dressed in white surrounded by light.
In the center of the room was a card table covered with a white cloth. On it rested the “Word” which was open and marked with a red satin ribbon embroidered with Hebrew letters which spelled Jehovah. A lighted red candle lent a soft light to the scene.
Then in the comfort and warmth, our Father would begin to read. “…and there were in the same country shepherds abiding in the fields keeping watch over their sheep by night, when the Angel of the Lord came upon them and the glory of the Lord shone round about him – and He said, “Fear not, for I bring you good tidings of great joy which shall be for all ‘people’”!
After the reading we made our way to the north living room where our mother took her place at the piano and accompanied us as we sung our favorite hymns.
This was followed by a parade to the dining room where the oak table was covered with a white linen table cloth. In the center was an arrangement of pine branches and cones and shining glass decorations, which were lighted by tall red candles. There was an abundance of food, meat and vegetables, including mashed sweet potatoes covered with toasted marsh-mallows. Dessert was a production. Our mother carried proudly her plum pudding from the kitchen. The lights in the room were dimmed in order to see the blue flame that rose from the dessert, which had been sprinkled with rum.
The climax of the day came when we were satiated with red Port wine and the sumptuous feast. It was time to open our gifts. There was much excitement as the shiny wrappings and ribbons fell away, disclosing the contents of the packages.
As the years go by, traditions may be altered by time, but each year still brings the promise of love, hope and “peace on earth”!
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