I am a Christmas fanatic and I am not ashamed. I am excited when Christmas decorations begin appearing after Thanksgiving (although I do believe the way that stores begin popping up Christmas stuff after Halloween is a bit excessive) and I love listening to pretty much nothing but Christmas music throughout the month of December. I love lights, ornaments, the smell of pine, pretty gifts wrapped in fancy bows, and snowmen (although I have to relish in the fake ones, not having much of a chance to make one for real).

I have happy memories of Christmas.

I remember cheese and crackers on Christmas Eve. I remember riding in the car on the way to church on Christmas Eve, so giddy with excitement I could barely contain myself.

I remember eerily beautiful choir renditions of carols. I remember pulling out the special Christmas records every year, and listening to Silver Bells and The Little Drummer Boy.

I remember my sister playing the orchestral version of Sleigh Ride and putting on a special dance performance just for five year old me, complete with realistic horse gallops across the living room. I remember being surprised years later when I discovered there were words to that song.

I remember putting out milk and cookies for Santa. I remember leaving a not so great cookie out for Santa and finding it in the morning with one bite taken out of it. I remember finding a crumpled beer can next to the empty plate of cookies every Christmas morning, with my dad complaining that Santa stole one of his beers yet again.

I remember jumping on the bed every year, trying to drag my dad out of bed who was shoving his pillow over his head, mumbling that we could just save the presents for next year. I remember loads of wrapping paper thrown into the hallway, much to the kitties’ glee.

I remember carefully helping my mom unwrap our nativity set, taking extra special care with baby Jesus. I remember getting a wrapped gift from my Aunt Char every year, knowing it was a handmade ornament. I remember every year pulling out the Christmas decorations and lovingly hanging those handmade ornaments in special places. I remember my special handmade Rudolph ornament made from clothespins that I have hung on every tree since I made it.

I remember my mom giving me a Steven Curtis Chapman Christmas CD early so I could listen to it throughout the season, and I do not remember a single other gift from that year.

I remember stringing lights up outside the house and like a lightbulb going off in my head, making the realization that it was the Christmas season that I loved so much, not just Christmas Day.

I remember walking through the neighborhood in the chilly air, admiring the lights.

I remember celebrating Christmas away from my home and my family, miles and miles away in California, with 24 excited African children. I remember decorating a tree and a cabin that year. I remember celebrating the next Christmas at my home, with my family, and yet missing my African family.

I remember decorating a tree with my four year old nephew, and having most ornaments three feet and under. I remember sitting quietly by Christmas trees and worshipping. I remember helping my soon to be husband decorate his first tree of his own. I remember getting a wedding gift of a free, big, beautiful, live Christmas tree and coming home to the fresh scent of pine. I remember moving the day after Christmas and being so upset that we were not able to put up a tree. I remember that same year sitting in front of a beautiful tree in quiet on Christmas Eve before taking communion. I remember pulling our cute little tree out of the box and putting it up in the living room of our new home.

I am thankful for each and every memory and look forward to creating many more.