Voice of Christmas Past

Christmas Eve

Today, Blaine and I made our way to Catoosa. It was well past noon, well past lunch and by the time we arrived at our destination it was time that most were leaving. 

As a child, Christmas morning constisted of waking up extra early and racing into the living room with my oldest brother Chad.  Chad and I would sneak a peak of what Santa had left while Jason and my parents slept.  We would then sneak back to our bed and wake just a few hours later till as we could no longer wait to share what Santa had brought with the rest of the family and open all that Mom and Dad had wrapped up for us. 

Mom always fixed the same breakfast, prepared the night before so we could eat while we unwrapped the gifts.  Side note but so many Christmas' we ate or had to pull the plactic wrap out of the food cause mom had cooked it forgetting to take it off before putting it in the oven... still funny!  Dad would then kick us into gear to get dressed and ready to be at Granny and Papa's by noon.  We had to be there by noon... not a minute later because Papa wanted to eat a noon. 

After lunch, we would unwrap gifts and play with our cousins till we were all too cranky and tired and our parents made us go home.  Christmas day would end with us looking over everything we had received and would just glow in delight. 

This tradition lasted every year till just a few years back when the patriarch of my mothers' family, Cletus Melvin Chadwell, AKA Papa, passed New Year's Eve.  All the family who lived near by moved in to help Granny take care of Papa and make his passing easy. Christmas day was when Papa got really sick and one week later he went to meet with Jesus. 

Papa never meet my husband, Bobby.  Papa never meet my son, Blaine.  Papa will never meet my future children either but when I walk into that grand country house I feel his presence, I look for him when I enter, I smell him when I breath and I see him laughing playing dominoes and playing with the children.

It is days like today I feel the meaning of Christmas.   Tonight, on Christmas Eve, Blaine was held in the presence of Granny in the house I spent every Christmas and I know that God is real. God is alive. God came to save me and I accepted at the age of ten. While Blaine ate his last bottle, I told him the story of Christ and pray that one day he too sees Christ alive in this world and accepts him as his Savior. 

God thank you for memories, for love, for family but most of all thank you for Jesus Christ who came to earth, never sinned and chose to die for my soul.

I pray that each of you when you read this find Christ alive in your world, in your life and most importantly in your heart.

Merry Christmas!

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