This Christmas was to be one to remember. I decorated our apartment to the nines. Got garland roping to circle the living room with joy and good tidings. Made my TV into a legit’ fireplace. Bam! Put up those icicle lights across the window, which I then snow frosted. Like it’s winter outside. In the desert!
Even got a real Christmas tree. You know, the one that even smells like Christmas. Frazier Fir. Has real branches and everything. Our tiny apartment looks like Santa’s Elves got done wrapping presents in the North Pole a bit early, took a holiday in the UAE, and just couldn’t relax. Gotta appreciate workaholics.
But seriously, we were set. Cookies had been baked. Hot chocolate made. We were getting ready to put on the finishing touches – decorate the tree – when the hurt hit me.
I was playing basketball when – BOOM – sprained ankle. Massive sprain! The kind of sprain that shoots bone aching wellsprings of pain to your eyes when your ankle is below your belly button. Picture me, fully reclined on my couch, Christmas decorations galore, and my wife putting up our Christmas lights… without me.
This was not Christmas!
Before the words Bah Humbug could come out of my mouth, my wife began to take the star out of the box, the one that would top our beauteous aromatic Frazier Fir. I sprang to life like Santa and his Reindeer were on the roof. Sprain or no sprain, I would star that tree.
One legged, my wife and I perched upon a chair and gently placed the golden star upon the highest bough. We smiled at one another briefly. But then the edges of my mouth quickly shot downward as I felt the rush of blood – and pain – sear through the lower part of my leg.
This was NOT CHRISTMAS!!
The better part of two days was spent on my back watching season nine of Dr. Who (excellent by the way). Nonetheless, I refused to listen, watch, or create anything Christmas. Childish? Yeah. I didn’t care. I was in pain during my favorite time of the year.
But, oh, what a savior! The following morning, as I stumbled around the kitchen, one-legged, in search of food, grumbling about why my wife hadn’t prepared my meal before she hustled off to work, it hit me like a sleigh full of presents.
I had started this season in such spirits because I had decided to make sure this was a season of service. The scrooge-like utterances sledding through my mind were in stark contrast to the real joy this time of year brings.
I looked over my colorful apartment and I remembered why I had done all of this. It was for my wife. It was for my friends. It was for my visiting family. I wanted to do something that would bring that warm feeling my father so often gave our family each Christmas. Despite nine kids and a limited income, I never lacked a warm house, loving parents, and presents under the tree.
This was Christmas.
In conclusion, the best way to make your Christmas unforgettable, like the REAL deal, love yo holiday, spirit filled, kind of Christmas…