Christmases Past and Why Growing Up is Hard to Do.

Well, folks, in a few short days I will be making my way back to my parents' house in Tulsa where I will partake in all sorts of Christmasy pleasures. Gatherings of friends and family, finding the perfect gift for each specific person, baking peppermint into everything I can think of, sipping a "Dirty Santa" at my favorite coffee shop: all give immense pleasure which is intensified by the fact that not one thought will be given to school. No. Not one.

However, in looking forward to these rare treats, I cannot help looking back to years past. Years when my mom's family was there, present and accounted for at our house every Christmas Eve. Years when I literally couldn't sleep because I was so excited for the festivities, which would ensue the following day, so I would beg my mom to read The Night Before Christmas to me just one more time. Years when we would make the trek out to Beaver, Pennsylvania for a Christmas Day filled with cousins, aunts and uncles, an abundance of food, and an even greater abundance of hugs and kisses. Someone always got the most ridiculous gift imaginable  - like the watch my dad received from Grandma Kullen one year with Bill Clinton's profile as the face and his growing Pinochio-style nose as the second hand - and the house was filled with laughter and joy and family and adventure.

It is hard to put into words what these Christmas Days entailed fully.  I remember the cold and trudging through the snow to and from the car but I remember it being warm and cozy inside. I remember being forced into my snowboots against my will and in later years being chastised for complaining of cold feet in favor of fashion. I remember playing Connect Four in my grandma's basement and hardly being able to wait to get my hands on whatever new babies there were (there were always new babies at Christmas). Mostly, they all run together into one great memory of being surrounded by the people who loved me most in the world and vice versa.

Now, we still have family Christmas and it is equally wonderful but with those formerly distant, the ones who used to call the house in Beaver every year and talk and the phone would get passed to you long enough to hear what was important, "I love you! Merry Christmas!" Roles have been reversed now and new traditions born. And it is good.

It is odd to think, though, that this will be my last Christmas in college. My last as one of "the kids." This time next year I will be graduating and starting real life and things will become far more complicated. At this point, it is a little hard to know exactly where I fit. In transition, I can only foresee Christmas and life becoming even more hectic. I suppose, this is what I mean when I say that growing up is hard to do. College turns into an awkward phase of in-between and sometimes it seems like things will only get harder. What I do know is that despite the awkwardness, the Light and Life will continue to be present.