I have always loved Christmas. As a child, I remember driving to a local gas station

where they were selling Christmas trees. My dad, mom, brother, and I looked at

various trees, breathing in their piney smell until my parents chose the tree that was

right for us. In the living room, my dad wrangled the tree into the stand, my mom

added water, and we decorated. My dad skillfully arranged the crayon colored lights,

angling the bulbs away from the branches to avoid possible fire. My mom hung the

beautifully reflective glass balls and baubles in an artful manner. The shiny tinsel, so

popular in the late 1950s, was irresistible. In spite of careful instruction from

parents, my philosophy was the more the better. And so Christmas began, building

and growing in my young heart, full of beauty, magic, and the sweet regularity of

Christmas traditions.

From my current vantage point of seventy years, I think about how my husband and

I can pass on our Christmas heritage to our grandchildren. We certainly did this

with our own children but somehow our efforts are in sharper focus for the next

generation. With the help of our kids and grandkids we typically decorate our tree on

the first Sunday in Advent. The grands have done this often enough that they

recognize many of our ornaments as old friends, especially if an ornament involves a

story. Children love stories, and decorating the Christmas tree has become an

opportunity to share stories of Christmases past and the people who were part of our

family history. Designer trees have their place, but I love hanging objects with a

connection to the past. We have told our grandchildren stories connected to their

ancestors, using items like my great-grandmother’s wooden clothespins, made festive

by a ribbon, to talk about her coming here from Sweden. We have shown them the

bell which my husband’s mother wore at Christmas on a red cord, now shortened to

hang on the tree. We are able to tell them about this good and godly woman, and

they connect her with the bell. My babyhood plastic angel rattle has become a family

joke (my husband thinks it is ugly!) and he used to hide it in the back of the tree.

Now my grandson loves to hide it, although I always find it and restore it to a place of

honor.

Holiday foods are another great way to pass on a Christmas heritage. These foods

often connect children to the place their ancestors left to make a new life. In our

family I make a number of Swedish cookies, some of which my mother made when I

was a child. I still use some of her cookie cutters. I have a few vintage cookie cutters

from my husband’s grandmother to which (you guessed it!) I attach a ribbon and

hang on the tree, providing another story. A tradition that I began for my

grandchildren includes baking special gingerbread Christmas trees to enjoy with

eggnog while they decorate the tree. I have told the stories of my childhood

Christmas Eve dinners, when my mom always fixed potatis skorv (Swedish potato

sausage) and lutefisk, a dried and salted cod, cured in lye (for my dad’s Norwegian

heritage). It becomes a white, gelantinous mass when rehydrated and heated. My dad

always poured melted butter over it, the lutefisk’s only redeeming feature. But what

a fun story for the grands!

Repeated and expected foods, rituals, and experiences are an integral part of the

delight of Christmas, but taken by themselves they are only outward trappings, like a

beautifully wrapped gift with nothing inside. The heart of Christmas is Christ and

all the rest of our traditions and celebrations point to Him. The sweetest and best of

our Christmas comes in worshiping together, singing carols, hearing the Christmas

story, and learning about the Best Gift, and the Greatest Gift-Giver, the source of all

other gifts. May those who come after us know Christ, our true Christmas Heritage.