"God bless us, everyone."

So what is Christmas?
Well, Christmas is a lot of things.
Christmas is when the radio stations play the Christmas carols before Thanksgiving's even begun, and it drives you and your mom insane. 
It's when the weather starts to get cold. It's when exams are over and done with. 
It's when we're on break. 
It's when the only thing your younger brother is worried about is what song to play, and if Santa got his letter, and that nineteen hours until he can open presents is far, far too long.
It's the cheesy remakes of A Christmas Carol and It's a Wonderful Life that seem to be required for every TV series. It's when you're watching those, even though you know you don't like them, and you know what'll happen.
It's when your family piles up in the car, and you drive around just to look at the Christmas lights.
It's when your mom has flour and dough and icing everywhere from using her new mixer to make cookies.
It's "Let it snow, baby...Let it reindeer."
It's trying to get your little brother to understand the joke in the title of the aforementioned Christmas CD.
It's having the most amazing pajamas to sleep in on Christmas Eve, even when the pants remind you of MC Hammer. Not that you mind. The PJs are awesome.
It's when you go shopping, because you have to find a gift that means something, shows you pay attention. Something personal. Something you know for sure they'll like.
And then it's smiling because they really do love the present, and you know you chose well.
It's that moment when you have to realize that Jesus really is the reason for the season. And you know that the phrase sounds corny, but it's the best you can think of.

Merry Christmas Eve!!! (Here's another story from a guest writer!)

"The Unconventional Christmas Gift" by Melissa!

I look through my closet trying to find something to wear because today is December 25, and that means today is the most anticipated family holiday of the year, for most people anyway. I feel like I’ve seen this all too many times before, so I move my eyes from my closet to the half open boxes lying around my floor full of the newest items in my wardrobe. “Santa” had done very well this year, yet it’s just not as exciting to get exactly what I want. I bend down to grab quite possibly the softest sweater ever created and pull it over my head as my hair starts sticking to ever surface within reach. (Don’t you just LOVE static?) 

“Lesley! Can you come help me finish cleaning before everyone get’s here?” 

“Yeah, Mom. I’ll be down in just a sec.” This is what my Christmas had become - a routine. I wish it could be more than that. Jesus is the reason for the season, right? Well, it hasn’t always been that way for me.

Uncle Allen is the last to arrive with twelve little gift bags filling his hands - one for each niece and nephew. I promptly shut the door behind him trapping in all the heat I can; Christmas in Massachusetts is brutal. As we enter the living room where all my family is waiting, I sneak a peak into the bags Uncle Allen has and see little envelopes in each one. I’m pretty sure of what these envelopes contain considering Uncle Allen’s new business has had the highest sales rates in Osterville this year. “Mom! Everyone’s here!” I yell across to the kitchen where she and the food await. I look over to my little brother Cayden and whisper, “The faster we eat; the faster we can open the presents, and I think Uncle Allen brought the perfect gift.” 

All the kids are shoveling in their food just trying to get enough before they can open presents. Although they finish in record time, the adults render their efforts futile. “We have to wait for everyone to finish eating before we can open presents,” my mother informed us all. A simultaneous sigh released from our lungs as if it had been practiced. I wait with very little patience but too much anticipation. Finally we gather round the Christmas tree with stacks of intricately wrapped boxes and bags stuffed with matching tissue piled high. My aunts and uncles along with my own parents begin grabbing the gifts with the names of their children on them when Uncle Allen announces, “I would like for the kids to open my presents last because I have some special planned this year.” 

“I knew it!” I mouth to my brother. “I wonder how much?” I ponder to myself. Once again our living room and its guests are submerged in wrapping paper, ribbon, bows, and all the other sorts of trash that come with Christmas time. 

Now we sit with Uncle Allen’s little gift bags in front of all twelve of us. “This may surprise you,” he states as we pull out the single piece of tissue separating us from the envelopes inside; they are plain white with no clue as to what they may contain. I eagerly rip the seal to find a folded piece of ordinary computer paper with Acts 20:35 printed across the top. Under that is a list of gifts I saw just last week in a newspaper article printed about the local Crisis Center. “Instead of buying you all presents this year, I decided that I would let you share in the idea expressed in Acts 20:35, ‘It is more blessed to give than receive.’ On your piece of paper is a list of toys that need to be donated to the Crisis Center in order for children in less fortunate families to have a good Christmas too. You can all pick one item, and I will donate it to the Crisis Center with your name on it. I wanted this Christmas to keep it’s focus on the reason we have Christmas at all. It’s not about the presents, it’s not about the decorations, it’s not about the delicious food we eat; the whole reason we celebrate on December 25 is because a baby was born over two-thousand years ago - a baby that would change the world.” 

Uncle Allen and I have become much closer this past year; especially since last New Year’s Eve he led me to accept Christ as my Lord, not just my fire insurance. I can’t even explain how much my life has changed. I still don’t have everything exactly figured out, but Christmas has become a time when I like to reflect on the one thing worth celebrating, my Savior. From His birth, Jesus knew that He was here so that He could one day hang on a cross - for you and for me. This year I realize how different I am particularly because I’m not even excited about the presents, well except for one. “I wonder what Uncle Allen will do this year,” I mention to my mom. 

“Honey, who knows. Who knows.”

Storytime with P. Meggy "Christmas Songs"

I sit at the old piano, loving the feel of the keys under the tips of my fingers as I play through the beginning of Pachelbel’s Canon, because the beginning is all I really know. Besides, playing through the same notes, to the point where it becomes rhythm and melodic and nearly systematic, that’s when my mind is the clearest, I think. At least, it’s when it’s easiest for me to sort things out. 

It’s Christmas Eve.

Woo.

So what?

My fingers hesitate on the black and ivory keys, and the melody falters. It’s Christmas Eve. Duh. We’re celebrating the birth of Jesus Christ.

Aren’t we?

I take this moment to flip through the book of Christmas music. The pages fall on ‘Silent Night.’ I look around at the decorations that cover my house. Nativity scenes, stars, mangers. So, everything is centered around Jesus, yet somehow we continue to forget. But I’m different. It’s true. Because of Jesus Christ, I’m a different person, a ‘new creation.’ I’ve been changed. So why do I sometimes forget, too?

I jump into the first verse of ‘Joy to the World’ and smile. It’s a cheerful sounding song, not so slow as the other ones I had been playing.

You know, this always happens. We get so excited for Jesus and for God, on Sundays, on holidays, on youth trips. It’s amazing. In fact, it’s the most awesome thing I’ve ever felt, it’s exhilarating and I love feeling like that. But then it all just kind of fades away, and I hang onto it as long as I can, but once it fades, I’m falling away again.

It’s kind of like New Year’s Eve, strangely enough. We make these ‘resolutions.’ We promise to try to change, to become a better person. But who really keeps their New Year’s resolutions?

My thoughts are interrupted by my mom, who pokes her head into the room. “Hey, are you ready?”

“Ready for what?”

“We’re going to the Christmas Eve service at your cousin’s church. Did you forget?”

“Now?”

“Um, yes.”

“Alright, just let me brush my hair and stuff.”

Whenever we go to my Aunt’s little church, it’s always for something special. Like Christmas, or the annual barbecue. The church thinks these of equal importance. But not in a bad way. Tonight was one of those services where you all hold candles, and the person next to you lights yours, and you light the next one. Tonight, we sang Christmas songs with only the light from the candles.

But before we began the preacher only had one thing to ask us. “Why do we celebrate Christmas? Why is there ‘Christ’ in the word?”

It seemed like another ‘Duh’ question to me. We celebrate because Jesus was born. Happy Birthday, Jesus.

Then we launched into ‘Angels We Have Heard on High.’ Hearing all those voices in the little chapel in the middle of nowhere is just amazing. The notes bounce off the walls, until there’s nothing left but voices. We sing mostly a cappella, if anything accompanies us, it’s the beautiful piano.

As we transition into yet another Christmas song, I feel absolutely thrilled. I love Christmas songs already, but this is beautiful. That’s when I start thinking about the preacher’s question. This is where Christ is, in Christmas, at church. He’s in everything, though, but it’s almost like you can feel it here. Then I’m lost in the feeling, and the songs, and the notes.

I smile at my parents once it’s over, and we’re walking out of the chapel to our car. “That was just awesome, don’t you think?”

They agreed, though I don’t think they thought it was quite as amazing as I did.

But that’s okay, because I also don’t think that this feeling will go away quite so quickly as it normally does.

Why?

Oh, yes, because I realized something. Yes, we celebrate the day Jesus was born. But there’s a little more to it. We celebrate the day Jesus was born, because it was when He stepped down from heaven, and became human. So He could die.

So He could save my life.