To Believe or Not to Believe

I wish I still believed...

When I was a child, I remember the days, even months leading up to Christmas were always filled with wonder and amazement. It wasn't just about the presents, but I'm sure that was part of it. I think partially it was due to school being let out for holiday and another part was a distinct change in seasons and the ensuing snow falling with reckless abandon. But I think a major part had to do with magic. Real magic. A magic I can't explain, but one I think has to do with 'believing '.

I try to reason it out, now as an adult, and I still can't seem to figure out or pinpoint what made it seem so magical for so many years? I try and pick out my lasting impressions from seasons gone by that have left their mark, such as, music, carols, spices, special decorations, twinkling lights, gingerbread houses, presents, Santa, trains, ballets, bells, stories, Christ, service, giving...but none, (at least by their onesies), seem to create the air of magic I crave. (I know because I've tried to recreate this feeling for 6 years, but to no avail.)

This feeling of magic, awe, and excitement lasted all the way up till the year I got married. Some years it wasn't as strong, and other times it was so invasive I thought I might, literally, burst with joy.

In college, I know that I no longer believed in Santa Claus, yet I did everything I could to make this time of year so special and magical. And it was. I always had a Christmas tree with decorations galore, and with the exception of my freshman year, it was always a real tree. Oh! the scent of a real Christmas tree carries such nostalgia.

We would have parties, we would sing carols, we would drink wassail, we would tell stories, we would go ice skating and have snowball fights, we would cook dinners, we would go to the Nutcracker, we would have church Christmas programs, and then I would go home for Christmas break and my Dad would say, there will be no Christmas this year! The running joke in the family, for Dad said this every year. Yet, he would still read the Story of Christ's birth from Luke on Christmas Eve and then we would wake up Christmas morning and somehow there would be a present or two...and sometimes more that just a few! And then there would be the stockings! Stocking were my favorite part, they still are. A lingering treat at the end of a beautiful morning.

I also tried to make the feeling of magic last longer, but it seemed that once the New Year rolled around, the magic vanished. Just like that. I still try every year to leave my tree up till after my birthday (20 Jan), but it never works; the magic is gone and I end up just prolonging the dreaded routine of putting the holiday decorations away and hauling away a dead tree.

This holiday, understandably, has proven to be more trying than most. The Christmas magic has been completely elusive. I tried, but I couldn't even pretend, like in years past when I had my children's memories to create. I had no reason to pretend. And I felt a distinct lack of magic. And absence that was sorely missed.

And so, I have found myself wishing that I still believed...