The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

Paul Baloche, Worship Leader

“Open the Eyes of My Heart,” “Above All,” “Your Name”

My favorite recollections of Christmas begin with an appreciation for the fact that my parents created memories for us year after year, memories that I will always cherish.

Growing up in South Jersey, across the bridge from Philadelphia, we were part of a blue-collar Catholic community, where much of life was centered on the church. In those days, we dressed up in our finest to attend midnight mass. I remember being up past my bedtime, dressed in my tie and wingtips. I felt like a little man ascending the church steps.

We would all attend mass as a family with parishioners from all over our little town crushed into pews, shoulder-to-shoulder, singing loudly the familiar songs of the season. The magic, mystery, the wonder of the candles, decorations, poinsettias, hay and the crèche and Nativity statues displayed carefully around the altar — all evoked a sense of wonder.

After returning home, it was hard to go to sleep knowing that, in a few hours, we’d all wake up to presents under the tree. That morning, my Aunt Elise and Uncle Harry would arrive, and my dad would break out his old 16-millimeter camera with the blinding lights.

I have tried to create similar traditions with my own family over the years, and I hope that my children carry the same joyful memories in their hearts.

Cherie Calbom, Author

The Juice Lady’s Turbo Diet, The Juice Lady’s Living Food Revolution

I have always loved Christmas. It’s my favorite time of the year. But there was one Christmas in my early 20s when I was very down and couldn’t find the joy of Christmas—no boyfriend, no immediate family in Southern California, nothing special going on.

I couldn’t shake the dark cloud of loneliness as I sat staring at my tree. What could I do to get out of this blue mood? Help a family in need! That was an interesting, out-of-the-blue thought.

I made some calls and learned about a single father with a couple of children who had nothing for Christmas, not even a tree. It was only a few days until Christmas, so I sprang into action. Though I didn’t have a lot of money, I took all I had and bought presents, a tree and anything else I could think of to make a great Christmas dinner. What fun it was!

I drove up to their house with the tree tied to my car’s roof. I packed up presents and made my way to their door. The whole family was excited, but the little girl was especially thrilled to have Christmas come to her home. After everything was unloaded and wishes and goodbyes were said, I drove away with a completely different outlook on the holiday season. It truly was more blessed to give than receive. My heart was filled with joy.

I’ve had decades of Christmases with my husband, surrounded by extended family, dogs barking, people laughing and the warmth of family and friends. Yet there’s one Christmas that always stands out in my mind—that Christmas long ago when I gave nearly all I had to help a family in need. That’s the spirit of the season, when we celebrate the one who gave everything He had to save a world in need.

Beth Shriver, Author

Rumspringa’s Hope, Annie’s Truth

I was very close to both my grandmothers as I grew up and later when we all lived in the Denver metro area for many years. My children loved going to their homes every Christmas because they were filled with things they weren’t familiar with, things of the past, heirlooms and black-and-white pictures of unsmiling faces who were their ancestors. It piqued their curiosity and opened a new world for them to see Grandma Maurine darn a sock or crochet a blanket for them, instead of throw it away or buy one. She was a master storyteller, so I told her to write down these stories. She did and had them published to give to each of her seven children. They later returned the favor and gathered their memories together and had the book published for her Christmas present. I use some of their stories in my books. This grandma was a prankster who loved a good joke. She played five instruments and was runner-up in the Miss Senior Colorado Contest.

In her younger years, my Grandma Isal taught in a one-room schoolhouse and was able to tell the story of baby Jesus born in a manger. Later, she lived on a ranch and made the best Christmas dinner ever!

Remembering all of this made me realize all over again why I like writing about the Amish. It takes me back to my grandparents’ ranch and to the farm my dad grew up on. Riding horses and pretending we were cowgirls or cowboys if my cousins were there—winters riding in the sleigh and summers swimming in the river. And there’s no better place to play hide-and-seek than a farm. We worked hard and played hard.

I can still hear my grandmothers talk about the land and how they joined together as a family every day to do chores. It’s a lifestyle I’m glad I was able to experience. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be able to create that world in my writing.

Worship with Christmas songs from Michael W. Smith, Paul Baloche and others at christmasworship.charismamag.com