Embarrassing fact about me: So great is my love for Christmas, that when my Mom told me Santa Claus wasn’t real, I just carried on believing anyway. It’s like I completely blocked out that conversation that took place in the car on the way to Stop n’ Shop one Sunday afternoon. I was afraid that if I stopped believing, Christmas would stop. It wasn’t until a couple years later when Sharon, my little sister, stopped believing in the Guy that I finally gave up the Ghost of Christmas Past. But we soon realized that though our belief in Santa had ceased, our family’s 5,678 Christmas traditions did not. While our reasons for loving the holiday seasons have matured over the years, we still love to revert to the giddy and dizzying excitement of girlhood. Why not?
One of the great pleasures of Christmas is all the tins, boxes and bags filled with Christmas sweets and goodies that are delivered by family and friends. Can I get an Amen? Our family calls it “Something for the right hand,” as a mug of something warm will be occupying the left.
With Dad being a minister, we get more than our share of Christmas cheer. I love coming home from the supermarket or a last-minute shopping trip to find a tin on the front door step, the contents of which will invariably be in our hands with a hot cup of tea in the next fifteen minutes. But the best tins (which have been the same for the last 20 years) are delivered by our Granny and Papa when they arrive a few days before Christmas. Aside from their superior sugar Cookies (lovingly iced and decorated), Granny and Papa’s Christmas goodies are not the norm. We have a candy made from Cap’n Crunch cereal, fudge (with and without nuts), peanut brittle, and my all-time favorite, Church Windows. For as long as I can remember, these same Christmas treats have adorned plates for dessert or have served friends that drop by during the holidays. Frankly, it wouldn’t be Christmas without them.
The Church Windows are incredible – not only because they taste so good, but because I’ve never understood how they are made. How does she get the little colored marshmallows inside the chocolate? I think it’s time to understand, because unlike Santa Claus, this is one tradition I’m not willing to give up.