Christmas Through The Years

My earliest real memory of Christmas was the year I got the Almond. It was amazing and I will never forget the feeling. First let me explain the story behind the almond. In Denmark there is a dish called risgrod. It is a rice porridge that is mainly eaten around the advent and Christmas season. A rich meal that is eaten with Elf Beer. Now leftovers are used to make another dish called Risalamande. Basically the left over porridge has sugar, vanilla, chopped almonds and whipped cream added and then one whole almond is added. It is served for dessert on Christmas Eve with a cherry sauce. Whoever gets the almond from the pudding has to keep it quiet until the entire dessert is finished and then they receive a prize. I received the prize of a small bag of sugared gumdrops and they were for me alone. It was heaven, although my Mom did encourage me to share. That was a magical Christmas in my eyes and yet I remember nothing else. I must explain though that as Danes transplanted in Canada, our tradition is somewhat different. Apparently my fatheer as a young child, didn’t like the pudding. And so my Farmor (Fathers mother) started to make a rum flavoured mousse which has been carried on now with my family for about 100 years. We also never used cherry sauce as raspberries were more available. But the almond and the prize are still a very important part of the Christmas celebration.

As the youngest child of a large family I remember the excitement of my older siblings coming home for Christmas. As immigrants we didn’t have many relative here. My Mom had that one brother who spent time with us but although he was married three times he had no kids. Well apparently he had a few, but not with his wives. He was that guy who blew into town late in the evening with whoever he was hanging out with in the bar. Those who had nowhere else to go for Christmas. It was interesting as he lived about four hours away and there was never notice given. My Dad rolled his eyes and my Mother just found them places to sleep. Other than that Christmas was just us with my Grandmother. The only memories were the boys coming in with bags and hiding away in a bedroom as they wrapped gifts that had been purchased that day. I don’t remember the gifts really, more the feelings of coziness as my family was all home together. One funny story was the year my parents returned to their car after shopping in the city and there was a bag of gifts in the back. Back in the day when no one locked their cars, someone had apparently mistaken our car for theirs. They never did find the true owners but it made for a funny story. There was the Christmas when I turned nine that my brothers all bought me a barbie together. She was a twist and turn talking Barbie with bendable legs. A big ticket item back in 1970 at ten dollars. My sister made five outfits for her and they bought a few accessories for me. That was the only gift that year and it was the most magical. She was the ony Barbie I ever owned. The joy from that one gift spread over many years. It was magical.

I became an Aunt in grade two when I was seven years old. Things changed then. A few years later another nephew arrived and then a brother got married. I was ten. That was the last Christmas eve I spent with my entire family until I was 28. That year my brother finally came home for Christmas Eve. Everyone came that year. I was a Mom of two by then and the magic I felt that year brought me back to my childhood. Things change in a family when siblings get married. My own life changed quite a bit when I married my hubby. We felt it would be perfect as we celebrated the 24th and his family celebrated the 25th. But traditions are different. The first Christmas eve my husband and I slept at my Mom and Dads, his sister phoned at 6 a.m. wondering when we would be over at his Moms to open presents. He was so angry and embarrassed. Everyone was asleep at my parents house and his sister was 25 years old. I soon came to understand how hard it was to please people during holidays. You can’t.

The magic we know as children is often something we want to replicate for our own kids. And it is hard because as adults we often buy into the idea of perfection. But if we ask our kids, they see it the way we did. Magical. I never noticed if the house was clean. I don’t remember any gifts except the Barbie. I remember the year my Farmor forgot to put an almond in the pudding. I remember the smells of the food and how warm and cozy the house felt. I remember my Mom spending so much time decorating her advent wreath with oranges and spruce from our own trees. The baking all before Christmas. I remember ginger ale in a wine glass. There was the year we went to cut down the tree and Dad put our coke bottles for our lunch into the stream to get cold. They were gone when we returned, washed away under the ice. The way my Dad put up the tree and my Mom so lovingly decorated it. So many handmade ornaments. The spray painted strings of popcorn. The special Danish foods we ate at Christmas. The prunes and apples Mom used as stuffing and the beautiful sweetness they added to he gravy. The candles. The soft lighting. The card games. The candlelight service at the church singing all our favourite hymns. Dancing around the Christmas tree as we sang and laughed because we didn’t know any of the words. Sleeping beside the tree. The calm and the lazy morning after. Aebleskiver or Danish pancakes with jam and sugar. It was magic.

Throughout the years as my own family grew things changed and traditions were added and some were set aside. I spoke recently to my niece who mentioned her cousin had been lamenting that Christmas was so different now. How it had all changed since my parents passed away. She is mourning a time that was her childhood. My own Christmas has been so different in the last five years. My husband passed away. That was such a hard one. My oldest daughter has become estranged from myself and her siblings. But she never really had anything to do with us at Christmas or holidays. That was hard as well in the beginning but life is about finding peace in your own heart. I spent many years doing what I was told and bowing down to pressure from others. Because traditions were all that mattered. Looking back I realize that in so many ways traditions were often what caused the most problems in a family. Because the love of the tradition was from the childhood feelings. And as we age, we try so hard to capture that feeling. Not just for our kids but for ourselves. But you can’t go back. Every experience in life is wonderful because it is new and unique. The same goes for Christmas. Change is what makes it special as well as helping us develop new traditions.

This was the sixth Christmas we have spent without my husband. The first five were a mixed bag of somethings missing and heartache while trying to create the magic for Grandchildren. This year, I have ot say was the first in a long time that felt like the magical Christmas of my life. It was perfect. My son and his girlfriend were late which wasn’t a surprise and his sister was worried about the bird being dry. Oddly enough it was probably the best turkey I have ever had. My son, like his Uncles before him had last minute gifts and bags of unwrapped goodies. The pudding I made was lovely. One of my best. One grandson kept mumbling to himself “I have to win” as he ate his pudding hoping for the illusive almond. And he got it, after his Mom slipped it under the table in a secret hand pass. You see, adults never win the almond prize. Dishes were done as we made our way into the living room. The tree was pulled out into the room and the lights were shut off as we all held hands. Once again singing and partially mumbling the songs. Laughing as someone randomly switched directions causing traffic jams. Our traditional last song was always Silent Night until one Christmas eve about seven years ago when someone asked “What are we going to sing next?” And a little boy piped up “Spiderman”. And while we did sing my favourite Silent Night, we ended with the new tradition of the Spiderman song. Just like the pudding that my Dad didn’t like, his great grandson Beau will always be remembered as the little guy who wanted to sing the Spiderman song.

This year Beau read the Christmas story from the Bible. He did such a good job. It caught my heartstrings as it has for so many years. As the gifts were passed out and there was a flurry of paper being torn, I watched as my kids put their own gifts aside and watched my Grandkids open theirs. Just like we did when they were young. Just like my Mom and Dad. Because we want our children to feel the magic. We need to watch their faces. My Grandkids were so excited to watch their parents open gifts they picked out. And the voices of my own children “Do you like it Mom?” They take after their Dad. He gave the best gifts. And like their Dad, their gifts are about me. Who I am. What I am. The gift that caught their eye and they just knew. That is Mom. It isn’t about money. It is about love. My kids learned that in spades from their Father. It was as if he was there with us.

Later in the evening we played cards and ate snacks and had a wonderful time and I was transported back. We all stayed overnight and as I headed upstairs to bed with my Granddaughter I mentioned that we hadn’t taken any pictures the whole night. To which she replied “Because we were living it.” A very wise twelve year old. The magic we feel isn’t lost as we age. It is passed on. When we miss our childhood we forget that the magic is within us. Each day with loved ones is magical. Its not in the gifts. It is in our hearts. Christmas isn’t the end result of a journey. A let down of too much stress and spending. At least i shouldn’t be. It is the beginning of a new journey. Where we ponder the magic of life and find joy in passing the gift of our presence into the lives of our loved ones. The Danes have a word for this feeling. Hygge. That is what our children and Grandchildren will remember when they look back. It is Hygge. They won’t be able to explain it but they will feel it. A warm and fuzzy blanket of peace and love that brings joy into their hearts. Merry Christmas my friends. May your lives be filled with Love, peace and of course Hygge.