Greg Awtry

What is Christmas? It’s the celebration of the birth of Jesus Christ, of course. But it’s way more than that. It conjures up childhood memories from long ago and marks the end of another year with nothing but our unknown future in front of us.

As a child, my sister and I were always anxious for Christmas, but nowhere near as much as my mother. She was the kind of soul that just enjoyed living every single day. We didn’t have much, she didn’t need much, but she insisted on a real Christmas tree, not an artificial one. She insisted it got flocked, which is a fancy way of making it look like it had a light layer of snow on it. That meant only one thing. Dad would buy a bag of flocking, get a spray bottle of water, head to the basement, stand up the tree, hook the flocking bag to the blower side of the 25-pound canister vacuum cleaner, and begin spraying it all over the place.

Christmas morning was fairly typical. We took turns opening gifts, gathered all the crunched up wrapping paper, had a quick coffee and donuts breakfast, which was the only day we kids could drink coffee, but it was more like syrup when we got done putting enough sugar in.

Then in a flash of years, we were the parents teaching our kids about the real meaning of this day. We did our best to live up to what our parents had taught us. We tried our best to carry on family traditions, although I didn’t flock the tree, but it was always a real tree in memory of my mother.

My now heavenly wife Josie was a Christmas decorating guru. We had, and I won’t exaggerate, forty tubs of Christmas decorations. Everything from her nutcrackers, angels, and nativity sets collections, along with boxes full of little porcelain Santas. Josie has been gone for seven years now. We donated about twenty of those tubs to goodwill, and the other twenty? Well, I think every year I will find the strength to open those remaining tubs, but nope, not this year, still not ready, if you know what I mean. I honestly don’t know if I will ever be ready, but I do hold on to every single memory.

I still look forward to Christmas, but now it’s all about the grandchildren. We gather at my daughter’s house on Christmas Eve and read aloud the story of Jesus’ birth, ending with singing Happy Birthday to him! Then as our family tradition allows, one gift each can be opened by the kids. Then Christmas morning it’s nothing but pure joy watching the gifts torn open along with all the oohs and ahhs.

My, I think how my personal Christmas list has changed over the decades, from toys, then tools, then ties, and now hope.

As I reflect on this year my hope is, if Christmas truly is the season of peace and joy, then may its spirit have a profoundly good effect on our world this next year. If Christmas truly is the season of hope, may it help us focus attention on a bright future and allow us to think less of any darkness in the past. May it touch the souls of those in power to do what is right, simply because it is the right thing to do. And may the spirit of Christmas overwhelm the hate and division. May it rekindle our childhood dreams while making memories for our kids and grandkids. May the reason for Christmas remind us of the fragility of life, and the promise it brings be everlasting.

As we close out 2025, I hope we can look at the children’s faces on Christmas morning, see not only the joy of the moment, but a boundless energy for life. I hope we can find it in our hearts and actions to leave them a world better than the one that was left to us, ensuring opportunities for them with unlimited possibilities.

And finally, one last hope. I wish each and every one of you a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year.

Share any of your Christmas stories or traditions with me at Gregawtry@awtry.com