I loved Christmas growing up. I know that sometimes it was crazy busy stressed, but most of the time it was magical.

We chose big bushy trees every year, and eventually made a major Saturday expedition every year and cut our own, then warmed ourselves up over dinner at a well-known country inn on our way home. We had traditions for food, an old English dinner of goose and fig pudding, with modern additions of sweet potatoes and a variety of other vegetables, fruit, and rolls. The table was always full.

My father ordered Danish kringle for Christmas breakfast, from a particular bakery in Wisconsin. My mother always made scrambled eggs too, so that the protein would slow down the sugar rush.

We got to plunge into our stockings first, and then sit down to eat before we were allowed to open the presents under the tree, a pattern we have stuck to with our own children. It helps keep the chaos to a minimum.

I remember some of the Christmas projects we made. My mother always tried to create something for Christmas. Some of our efforts were fun for the season and done, but some endured to be carefully wrapped up and brought out again.

The year in that category that I still remember was when we made three kings out of styrofoam cones with balls stuck on top, then used paper mache and wire to make arms and robes. I was a teenager at that point, and so relatively competent.

We shaved down the front surface of the styrofoam balls slightly to give the contour of a face, and used peach-colored tissues rather than white, dipped in diluted white glue, to smooth over and cover them. We didn’t add any features; these were stylized three-dimensional images.

Then we sculpted the robes out of fabric scraps, dipped in the glue mixture, and placed tiny wrapped boxes into the wire hands, which were stretched forward, almost meeting at the center of the body. I made one king’s robe with a rich red fabric, shot with gold. I remember gluing a fancy bead on the center top of the tiny foil gift.

Our celebrations, and the traditions and surprises that were a part of them, were ultimately all about the Christ child. We knew this, even with the excitement of Santa and reindeer and buying or making presents for our family and friends. The story of his birth was part of my earliest awareness of the Savior.

On Christmas Eve we would pile into the car and go looking at lights. When we came home, our father would gather us together and read the Nativity story out of Luke, and we would have family prayer.

Then we would be sent to get into our pajamas and gathered back to read “The Night before Christmas” and hang up our stockings. We went to bed in happy anticipation, unable to settle easily as we waited for the morning hour allowed to us to knock on our parents’ door.

We baked, we crafted, we sang. We would go as a family and deliver our best efforts with doorstep caroling. Here, so many years later, we do it still after all the years of increasing numbers and ages of children and then departing and decreasing numbers. Even with only the two of us, we sing. Christmas means music, my heart fills too full in this season to be contained in any lesser way.

The somber longing in this hymn draws me, as it always has. This year, perhaps because I have just finished teaching the Old Testament for roughly two years, I find its significance even greater. The music, in plainchant, predates the words by a couple of centuries.

The several verses * refer to the Rod of Jesse, the Root of Jesse, the Wisdom, the Key of David, the Day-Spring, or the Lord of Might on Sinai. Those words speak to the prophecies and promises throughout the Old Testament, as the Lord pleads for his people to turn back from sin, to return from greed and apostasy, and honor Him in righteousness so that He may bless them.

This music video is one of the most beautiful things I have ever seen and heard. Watch and listen to it. As the music echoes, remember: We are all of us Israel, struggling through a fallen world. We are all the children of His promises.

Go to this link to see the whole set of verses (at least the most I could find).

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel has come for thee, O Israel.

Merry Christmas, as you enjoy the ways in which you connect and celebrate His coming, as a simple baby, with those you love.

Joy in Christ, who comes to save us all.