But first, you need some background. (Straight out of Norman Rockwell, I swear.)
The church in which I grew up was one of the hundreds of small, rural Lutheran churches that dot the landscape of outstate Minnesota. Not only was I baptised, confirmed and married there, my mother and many of my aunts and my uncles were, as well. The cemetery which surrounds the church on three sides is filled with family members which have gone before us, including all four grandparents, and most of my great-grandparents. I had my first child baptised there, too. So for me, as for most people who grew up there, it is a comfortable place filled with my own history.
Gol Lutheran Church in 2009.
Back in the 60's, the church looked a little different. Instead of the part of the building sort of growing off the front like it does now, it was a majestic stone church in the classical style, with the double front doors opening more or less straight into the sanctuary, and just a tiny [and in the winter very COLD] entryway between you and the great outdoors. (I tried to find a picture of it as it was, but don't have one available.)
On a side note, for the architectural purists in the reading audience - when the addition was built, the original stone front was preserved, and they built the addition onto it. So we can still see the beautiful entryway as it was, but now it is from inside the toasty warm building. Personally, I think that was inspired.
Anyway, contrary to popular perception, living in Minnesota means you are hearty and stubborn, it does not mean you don't feel the cold. Every time those doors opened, you would feel a blast from the biting wind licking at your bare legs. (Unless you kept on the pants under the dress that your mother made you wear back then.)
As soon as Thanksgiving was over, the moms would get excited, and it would be time to put on the annual Christmas Sunday School program. They would devote countless hours to finding the right program, making the costumes, and whipping the reluctant participants into shape so we would be ready to perform for our proud parents and grandparents, and the rest of the congregation.
These days, I think it's a lot harder for churches to put on the annual event, because they never know how many children will actually show up for it. Families are more mobile, church seems to be less the center of the community, and the annual Christmas program at church is one more thing to check off for a lot of families, I think.
Where I grew up, though, the yearly Christmas program was an Event to Attend, whether you had children or not. Families would arrive en masse, everyone dressed in their Christmas best for one of the most exciting evenings of the year. For the parents and grandparents, I imagine the fun of the evening was in seeing your offspring perform the Christmas story once again, nothing new or different, but moving none-the-less.
For the children, however, the program was something to be gotten through so you could get to the main event - The Presents. Several weeks before the program, the children in each Sunday School class (we had one or two grades per class) would put their names in a hat and each child would get a name for the gift exchange.
The cost was minimal, but that gift was something I looked forward to all year, because it was a gift from a classmate who would always find something frivolous and fun. [Think "champagne" bubble bath, paint by number sets, yoyo's, hula hoops. In the practical world of a Minnesota Lutheran, this was a thrilling departure from the norm.] I still have several of the gifts I received, including a couple of handmade items that a classmate decoupaged for me.
There would be some additional gifts under the tree, as well, perhaps something from your teacher, or another adult at church to whom you were a special child. When the fun was over, and it was time to go home, every child was handed a brown paper bag filled with peanuts in the shell and ribbon candy, and everyone, adults and children, received a shiny Red Delicious apple.
Every time I walk past a display of Red Delicious apples, especially if they are near the door and it's cold outside, I am blasted back to my childhood Sunday School Christmas program. The crisp, cold scent of those apples permeated the entryway of the church, wafting into the back of the sanctuary. When you opened the door to walk into the church, you would be enveloped by the aroma of those apples, a silent signal that something wonderful was about to happen.
The other night, my daughter and I were at the store, and I walked past a display of shiny red apples that were near the door. The combination of that apple scent and the unseasonal cold which resulted in a draft that I felt on my face triggered that memory once again. It was, as it always is, almost euphoric, and I had to share the memories with my daughter, who listened with polite interest, but who didn't really understand the power of it all.
A few days later, I read a Facebook entry written by a friend from that same little rural church, one of wistful recollection for the simpler lives we all led back then. It prompted me to recall the apples and the bag of nuts, which were, in an odd way, truly the highlight of the evening of that Christmas program.
Not only did he recall those bags (turns out his mother ordered the apples for the program every year, of all things, who knew? So I tell MY mother, and she says, oh ya, his mother was the Sunday School treasurer. Huh, you learn something every day, I had no idea, I thought they just magically appeared because it was Christmas or something.... Wait, where was I?) Oh ya, not only did he recall the bags, but he recalled the very scent I was talking about.
I was even more delighted when, a couple days after that conversation, another friend, who attended a different church, chimed in with her own memories of the same thing. Apparently this was a town of Kenyon thing, not a Gol Lutheran Church thing, and there are more people than I realized out there enjoying the same Red Delicious high that I experience at random and unexpected moments.
It struck me, once again, that the most pleasant memories for us were not of the gifts or the trappings of a holiday gone wild, whatever the advertisements of that time (or this time) may have led us to believe. [I remember the Norelco electric shaver commercial, where the shaver was a sled that flew over the snow, bringing Christmas cheer to some lucky guy who would now know the thrill of a closer electric shave, making his Christmas a success.] The most memorable moments of those long ago evenings were the simple gift of an apple and a bag of nuts and candies, handed out by someone's dad at the back of the church as we headed home.
In all the hustle and bustle of a modern Christmas, the meaning in the season is often overlooked in the effort to create the perfect holiday experience. I think my own children, and perhaps someday my grandchildren, will be surprised to find it is the simple experiences, what seem like throwaway moments at the time, that will stay with them, and which they will recall most fondly.
This Christmas, I wish each of my faithful readers, wherever you are, and whomever you may be, a bag of nuts and ribbon candy, and a shiny Red Delicious apple. Spread the Christmas cheer in this hectic week of last minute everything. Remember that whatever is left undone will not be remembered in the years to come. Instead, it is the quiet moments of time together that really matter, and which will be remembered in all their beautiful simplicity. The true joy of Christmas is found not in the trappings of the commercial holiday, but in the humble manger. From my stable to your heart and home, Merry Christmas!
